Our Pilots in the Air Part 26

Blaine knew good advice when it came. His own more c.u.mbersome machine having at last the right slope for rising, even in its crippled state, did rise, and rapidly, so that Lafe was much encouraged.

Bangs, still overhead, darted forward at a startling pace directly for the nearest enemy plane that intuitively dodged. He swooped to the left and engaged in the subtle, lightning-like maneuvers which so often accompany the opposing efforts of two skilled antagonists seeking to gain the advantage one over the other.

This, as it was intended, gave Blaine his first chance to rise uninterruptedly and gain such height and distance as he desired.

Meantime the gray dawn was slowly growing, enabling him to see in the south certain ma.s.ses of men, disordered, yet moving with a common impulse towards the east. Undoubtedly they were the retreating Germans, at last giving way before the offensive that had been launched upon them by the Allies early the evening before.

The series of explosions and flames that they had seen dimly, from the forest surrounded oval, was the destruction made by the enemy along the lines of their night's retreat. They were going back to what has become known as the famed Hindenburg line or base, which for some time marked the end of the now retirement of the Boche forces on the west front.

Having attained sufficient height, Blaine turned more westward; on account of Stanley, he was determined to make the shortest cut towards the home aerodrome. But here, too, another flock of enemy fliers was hanging over the advancing Allies so that Blaine, for sake of caution, rose up, up, still higher in the effort to avoid these new antagonists.

Looking back, Blaine now saw Bangs engaged, in fierce conflict with two of the rearward squad of Boche fliers. Again he admired the marvelous speed and dexterity of his chum as the circlings of the three were faintly apparent.

All at once came a burst of flame from one of the three and down went the burning plane like so many had gone before.

"Was that Buck?" gasped Blaine, greatly excited. "The other two seem strangely harmonious. I must see more."

Round he wheeled and sailed towards the two remaining planes that were zigzagging about each other a mile or more in the rear.

At a speed of two miles a minute, Blaine found himself almost immediately being circled by the first plane, which was so much like Buck's that he at first distinguished no difference. What first aroused him was a roar of sound and a spatter of bullets that stabbed his planes as the stranger flew by.

"By hokyl It's a Boche!" Blaine was already maneuvering to get some shots himself when from the second plane, came a code signal that instantly informed him of his first mistake.

"Go home!" the flashes commanded. "Leave, me to take care of Fritz."

Quick as a wink Blaine turned to the homeward flight again. But his plane moved heavily. Back again came the German, but Bangs suddenly intruded and the two scouts were soon banging, diving, dodging each other while Blaine, pursued his former course as best he might.

But his speed was strangely slow. He had trouble in maintaining an even flight, and there were more planes coming from the west. This was the rear squadron of Germans, that had been overhanging the Allied advance and signaling their own men further east.

"Buck and I -- we'll be overwhelmed, " though Lafe. "I'm growing weaker. What the h.e.l.l is the matter with me anyhow?" meaning his planes of course.

But before the approaching Boches could surround Blaine or Bangs, still fighting his foe, there rose suddenly out of a cloud to the southwest a new flock of airplanes that instantly attacked the retreating foe.

All this time a terrific artillery fire was roaring out of the east, as the result of the Boches signaling from their rear squadron, now being rapidly whipped into flight by the new onslaught of Allied planes.

Where was Bangs? Just then Blaine saw the solitary Boche flier that had first attacked him and afterwards got it hot from Buck, speeding at a crippled pace towards the east. It pa.s.sed Blaine who, having a sheaf of ammunition ready, turned loose upon it forthwith as it pa.s.sed.

This was all it needed, for the foe, one wing swinging loosely, sagged earthward at a great pace, its pilot working frantically to keep on an even keel.

Two pa.s.sing Allied planes each gave it a shower of bullets that caused it to topple over in mid-air, and go crashing down towards that grim and gory field below. But where was Bangs?

Blaine's anxieties were deflected from Buck to his own plane which at last turned earthward, not, crippled more by enemy aid, but - but --

"Why -- confound it! I'm out of gasoline again. Well, here goes!"

And he proceeded to carefully spiral down as gently as he could, no easy job when all motive power is suddenly exhausted.

He landed in a broad sh.e.l.l-hole and at once began to apply restoratives to Stanley who, very weak yet undaunted, asked where they were.

"Why, we're somewhere behind the Allied drive in what was No-Man's-Land. But don't you bother! What I've got to do is to get you back to our base somehow."

"You've been mighty good, Lafe. I'll do my best to help by laying still and trying to get a mite stronger."

Here a groan was heard that caused Blaine to begin to investigate their immediate surroundings. Nearby was a wrecked plane in which we two Germans, one dead through the fall, and the other evidently dying. The dying man was conscious and had heard Blaine and Stanley talking together. Then came the groan. Instantly Blaine, rushing over, recognized him.

"Why, it is Herman Bauer!" he exclaimed, as much for Stanley's benefit as to show Bauer that he recognized him. "Anything I can do for you, Bauer?"

"N-nein -- no," Bauer corrected himself. "I've got mine. Himmel! Eet vas to me coming I guess -- vat?"

Here Bauer was seized by another convulsion that left him speechless, staring and all but dead.

Blaine surveyed him coldly.

"I didn't know you were much of a flier," he said. "Were you that chap's observer? Well, you must have photos, plans or something."

Then Blaine coolly proceeded to search both men, the dead pilot and the one about to die. Bauer's eyes gleamed with hate as he managed to say:

"Gott strafe Englander!" He choked, panting, then whispered with his last breath: "Gott strafe Amerikanner - schwein -- sch--"

The whisper died away in a choking deep in the throat. Bauer was dead.

He had paid the last great penalty. Blaine, still cool and unruffled, continued his search until he was in possession of all the two men had that was worth the trouble of taking. Among these were maps, air-craft photos of the Allied trenches and one valuable map the communicating transport and railway lines behind the new Tlindenburg front to which Germans generally were retiring.

With Bauer dead and Stanley more comfortable, Blaine began looking over his machine. It seemed all right but for lack of petrol and wings being more punctured and ragged than usual.

"Where can I get petrol?" he more than once asked himself. "I could either get on myself and join our men, or get back to the station. But I can't leave Stanley. Hang it all! What'll I do?"

Lafe was about to give it up for the present, when Stanley from his rec.u.mbent position said:

"Why don't you try that Boche plane? Seems like I heard Bauer say something about petrol. Then he swore because he could not get up. I didn't know then it was Bauer."

"Right you are, Stan! Why didn't I think of that before? I hope the fall didn't smash their tank."

It so happened the tank was nearly all right, only a little of the oil having leaked out through a twisted nut. Blaine got busy and in ten minutes he had transferred the German petrol to his own tank, and thereupon felt, as be phrased it, quite "like a new man."

Meantime stray sh.e.l.ls were falling here and there, but none within a dangerous margin. Still, it would be better to get somewhere else.

"Come on, Stan," said Blaine. "I don't like these stray duds and coal-boxes. One of them might drop too near. Let me put you back in your manhole."

Before this could be accomplished, Blaine heard another nearing noise, at first high up in the air. Looking up he saw a tiny burst of flame from a dark, swirling object that was plainly descending fast, then faster still.

"Why, that must be a falling plane!" he exclaimed. "It's coming down mighty close, too. What'd I better do?"

Apparently there was not much to do for half a minute but to watch.

And watch both he and Stanley did, wondering if it was enemy or friend, for the burning plane was careening, fluttering -- not unlike a broken-winged bird. In the gray dawn they could see the pilot, still seated, dexterously manipulating every agency that might enable him to keep his balance without falling out.

Down, down he came, finally plumping to earth, just outside the broad sh.e.l.l-hole with a gentle crash. With this the flames burst up anew, enveloping the crushed wings, and rendering the very nearness a danger.

But the goggled, leather-coated masked man had already sprung out, his personal belongings in hand, and stumbled up the outer slope of the crater. Suddenly he was halted by the stern command:

"Hands up -- you!" There was no mistaking Blaine's voice by one who had often heard it before.