Our Pilots in the Air Part 19

Deeply depressed, for he was very young and impressionable, Stanley, regardless of his own safety, punched up the fire and from his own and his comrades' kits procured such remedies as aviators carry for just such emergencies. In the dark he hunted for water but found none.

From a flask of good French brandy he managed to pour a spoonful or so down each throat, taking a swallow himself, for he felt he sorely needed it.

Poor old Blaine never stirred. Erwin at last shivered slightly.

"Isn't this a deuce of a fix?" he sighed at length. "Where are we?

For all I know, Blaines may be dead. Here, feeling again of Lafe's pulse, its steady beat somewhat rea.s.sured Stanley. "How about Orris?"

If anything, Erwin's pulse was coming back. The brandy had restored such vitality to the lad that his arteries were again sending the life-giving fluid upon its unceasing task.

"What can have become of Buck?" Stanley replenished the fire with stray fuel, for he knew that it would be a signal to Bangs and perhaps to the enemy; but as to the last he hoped not, amid that chilly darkness and night fog.

Here a slight noise from his rear caused Stanley to wheel in his tracks and stare stupidly at a dim figure under the shadow of a portico in front of the bas.e.m.e.nt of the main edifice, which was, in fact, about the only part of that vast group of buildings that seemed unharmed.

"Who are you? What brought you here?" came an unmistakably feminine voice.

More wonderful still, the language was English -- good English, too.

Was there not also an American tw.a.n.g about the tone and accent?

Stanley could have pinched himself, had he thought of it. But so surprised was he that he seemed actually paralyzed, when an unmistakably girlish figure emerged more into the light.

Still the young observer stared, hardly noticed that another older form had made a dim appearance. It, too, wore skirts, though rather raged and soiled. The girl's habiliments also evinced that her recent abode had not been where style and cleanliness were at all dominant.

"You -- you are not Germans?" This tremulously from the girl. "You understand me, don't you?"

"Yes, ma am," Stanley almost stuttered.

"Y-you s-see -- I'm some surprised --"

"Some surprised!" The girl was smiling hopefully. "That sounds like good old United States talk."

"We heard so much noise overhead, then some nasty bombs exploding. So Brenda and I have lain hidden in the cellars for -- for hours. Haven't we, Brenda? The dim form in the rear nodded emphatically. "But who are you?"

Here she caught sight of the ruined planes and the prostrate forms of Blaine and Erwin, with also the more distant figure of the dead German.

"Oh -- oh!" She clasped her hands. "How dreadful! What can we do?

May we not help? Are they all dead?"

The girl was genuinely aroused, so much so that her natural horror of the strained situation was lost in genuine concern. Stanley briefly explained the series of incidents that had preceded the present situation, at the same time pointing at the dead German aviator, and concluding with:

"The poor chap used to live in Chicago. Before he died he gave us his parents' address there. He spoke good English."

"Why, Chicago is where I hail from," said the girl. "Good old Windy City! I wish I was there now, although I have been over here many months."

Meantime Brenda, with the ready adaptability of Belgian women, had been examining the persons of the two still insensible aviators. All at once she rose up, saying to her mistress:

"Pardon, miss." This in her own Flemish tongue. "We must move these Americans to our under ground rooms. They will recover, but they need attention."

"You are sure right, Miss - Miss --" Stanley hesitated, but the girl paid no heed. "We don't want to inconvenience you, but something will have to be done right away."

With the able a.s.sistance of Brenda, while the girl went ahead carrying a small lamp that had been produced as if by magic from somewhere - possibility by Brenda -- they picked up poor Erwin and followed. Down some half ruined stone steps they went, then through a long pa.s.sage, then down more steps to a half open door.

Once inside, Stanley saw he was in quite a sizeable room, with two beds, one large, the other a mere cot. The girl led the way to the large bed, and there they laid the still swooning man who gave a slight groan as he was deftly covered by the girl who murmured as if to herself:

"Poor fellow, he has suffered!"

Already Stanley was leaving, saying:

"We must get Blaine down here quickly. He is in a bad way, I fear."

Seizing the lamp, the girl hurried after. On reaching the other stricken aviator, what was their surprise to find him leaning on one elbow, trying to rise, but vainly.

"Wha -- what's the matter? Where am I?"

"You're with friends, old boy," soothed Stanley, seizing Blaine's arms, while Brenda took up the lower limbs. With the wounded man muttering aimlessly, again they wended their way to the lower chamber, evidently used by the girl and Brenda as a temporary sleeping place.

With deft efficiency the girl had s.n.a.t.c.hed up Stanley's kit of dressings and other medical paraphernalia and hurried on ahead with the lamp. In a trice they had placed him on the cot. Immediately the two women were busy with these things and some stored aids of their own, dressing the bruises on both the boys and applying restoratives, so that in a short time both were awake, sensible, and staring with grateful wonder at these two women -- angels of mercy -- and the strange yet comfortable surroundings.

Mutual explanations had already begun when whirring, semi-thunderous noises again were heard. Stanley was instantly on the alert.

"All of you remain quiet while I slip up and see what is on," he said, flinging back: "If your light is apt to shine through any hole or opening, better douse it or hang up covers. Make no noises until you hear from me." He was off, but not before the girl called to him:

"Be very careful, sir! We cannot spare you - yet."

"No, we can't, ma'am," remarked Blaine from the cot where he now sat upright with a bandaged head.

"Indeed, Sir," said the girl almost wistfully, "we cannot spare any of you. Just think, we have been here a week, and with more or less bombing going on each day and sometimes at night."

"May I ask, mademoiselle --" began Blaine.

"Just plain Miss," interrupted the girl. "Miss Daskam from Chicago!"

"Well, well!" Blaine was smilingly openly now. "That surely sounds homelike! Well, we're all Americans too. We were on an air raid and had a good deal of mixed luck. Blaine's my name; that's Erwin over there," pointing at the cot where Orris was grinning and smiling. "The chap who went out just now is Stanley. He is my observer. But our machine is smashed now and how we will all get back is more than I know. Eh, Orry?"

"Looks that way. But what's the use of worrying while we are in such charming company? I'm all right."

And to prove it Erwin stepped out on the floor, a little teetery perhaps, but once more himself. He made a not ungraceful bow.

"May I ask, Miss Daskam, how you happened to get cornered down here in this poor old chateau? It must have been a grand place once -- but now!" He shrugged slightly, regarding Miss Daskam sympathizingly.

"The wife of the owner of this place is my sister. I came over as a member of the Belgian Red Cross. Both my sister and her husband are, or were, at headquarters when I left the Belgian lines. I had a permit to visit his chateau; for in the days before I came over here I had left there certain papers most important to them both. I wanted to see the place and I had a friend that was chummy with the Boches in Brussels. He had forwarded me a pa.s.s. So I insisted on taking Brenda along and trying it alone. You know western girls are not much afraid of things."

"Well, you were plucky enough, anyhow, interposed Erwin and Blaine nodded.

"Up to that time, after the chateau had been bombarded by our Allies in their final advance towards Paschiendale after Vimy ridge, it had rested unharmed further."

"But you can never count on what Fritz will do, or when he'll begin,"

remarked Blaine. Then as the girl went on, Erwin sat down suddenly as if something within him had all at once given way.

"Keep still, Mr. Erwin," she cautioned. "You're not well vet. As I was saving we got through the lines all right. If either my sister or the Baron had gone, they would have been made prisoners at least. I was a Red Cross nurse. We had done good work over there and even the Germans were well disposed. But if it wasn't for Brenda, I hardly know how we'd have managed Brenda is a -- a whole team, you know." She pressed her servant's worn hand as she continued. "We reached the chateau, secured the papers with out much trouble, for Brenda, being an old family servitor, knew where to find them. That very night, while we were in these underground rooms, the Germans began dropping bombs all about.