The Big Five Motorcycle Boys on the Battle Line Part 4

The third rider slowed up as he approached the spot where they awaited him. No danger of the two men starting their car, and swooping down on the allies; if they commenced to run on foot toward Rod and his chums it was only necessary to leap into their saddles and be off like the wind.

"It worked like fresh grease, Rod!" panted Josh, as he threw himself down from his seat, and held one hand to his aching side, for that boisterous laughter was weakening him more or less; "oh! they fell into your little trap like innocents. It was like taking candy from the baby to work them like I did."

"There they are, shaking their fists at us right now!" burst out Hanky Panky, as he pointed along the road toward the deserted house.

"It's about all they can do; when you come to think of it!" grinned Josh.

"We were getting cold feet when we heard them shooting, old fellow; and I hope none of the lead so much as touched you! I saw the dust fly up after nearly every shot, it seemed to me."

"I rather think the fellow meant to hit my wheel and disable it,"

explained the latest arrival; "but it isn't so easy to do a thing like that, when a motorcycle is speeding along at the rate of a mile a minute. No matter what he aimed to do he missed his guess, and I gave him the slip."

"Rod here says you must have jammed his self-starter so it wouldn't work when he tried it; how about that, Josh?" asked Hanky Panky, who never would be satisfied until he had learned all the particulars.

"You just bet that was what I did the first thing," the other told him exultantly; "but I had another card up my sleeve, too. You see they might hammer that back into shape again, and get a move on; but I fixed it so they'll not chase after us to-day."

"What did you do, then?" demanded Hanky Panky.

"I had my big knife all ready," said Josh grimly, "and I used it with all my might and main."

"On the tires, do you mean, Josh?"

"Every one of them is sliced and slashed the worst way you ever saw,"

replied the other. "I never was guilty of doing such a mean thing before in all my life; but it was absolutely necessary if we meant to shut off pursuit. You ought to have heard the air sizzling out after I jammed that big blade through, and ripped it along! Whee! it was mighty exciting, because I half expected to see one of the men come rushing out any old second, and chase after me down the road. But I was lucky, and nothing like that happened."

Hanky Panky looked his deep admiration. He often wished Nature had made him as smart as Josh, with that underlying streak of Yankee blood in his veins. Hanky was willing to try to accomplish anything that came his way; but being a bit clumsy in his actions there was always a chance that he would bungle his job, and fail to attain the expected results.

He slapped the late actor in the stirring little drama heartily on the back.

"Good boy, Josh!" he went on to say; "you're all wool, and a yard wide.

Why, even Rod here couldn't have done a whit better. There, see, the men are starting this way as if they meant to make us get a move on."

"Oh! we're willing to oblige Jules," laughed Rod; "especially since we've accomplished all we meant to do, and their car is placed out of commission. Good-bye, Jules; if we meet again before we've played this game out it will be where the cannon are roaring, and the battle is on!

Until that time, then, adieu!"

Immediately the trio started along the road leading to Ostend. Rod had figured some time back that they would soon be across the border, and traversing French soil. The last glimpse they had of the baffled plotter he was standing in the road and still staring hard after the vanishing Motorcycle Boys.

CHAPTER V.

ON THE ROAD TO CALAIS.

"What's this I see ahead there, boys? Looks like there might be some other motorcycle fellows around these regions, though I guess they've left their mounts behind."

It was Hanky Panky who said this. They had halted at a wayside spring to refresh themselves, for the road was proving pretty dusty.

At noon the three boys had swung through Ostend on the Belgian coast.

The famous watering place did not look just the same as on other summers, when tens of thousands visited it for the sport to be enjoyed in the sea. True, it was swarming with people, but in the main soldiers walked the sands, and there was a decidedly martial air to the place generally given up to gaiety.

The boys had, of course, been stopped quite frequently. With war in the land this was only to be expected. Still the papers they carried always won the day, and they were allowed to proceed. This could hardly be wondered at when one of those little doc.u.ments was written wholly by King Albert himself, and contained an express desire that the bearer and his friends should be given every possible courtesy by loyal Belgians, as they had proved their friendship for the little kingdom to the utmost.

Then later on the motorcycle trio knew they were on French soil, for they had been stopped by a patrol in the famous blue tunics of the republican army. Once more had their pa.s.sports been scanned, and after a little consultation, in which Rod was able to mingle a few sentences, he speaking French, they were saluted respectfully by the patrol, and allowed to proceed.

After that they had arrived at Dunkirk, where later on hundreds of thousands of British soldiers were destined to be landed.

Once through this city the boys headed on south, aiming to reach Calais before evening came. So far nothing serious had hindered their forward progress, and all of them felt light-hearted indeed.

Then had come the halt at the cool wayside spring; and it was after drinking their fill of the delightful water, thanks to a gourd some kind person had supplied, that Hanky Panky announced his discovery.

Josh took a look, and then burst out into a loud laugh.

"Why, if you're going to believe because a fellow wears khaki he must own a motorcycle," he told the other, "you'll have the whole country full of spinning machines. Those are British soldiers, Hanky; Tommy Atkins, you know, come over to France to give a helping hand to keep the Germans out of Paris."

"Sure they are," grinned the other; "as if we didn't spy a lot of the same up at Dunkirk when we slipped through. I was only guying you, Josh.

But we must be near Calais, don't you think, Rod?"

"Only a few miles more and we'll get there," the leader advised him.

"Like as not there's a regiment of Britishers camped near by, ready to start off in the direction of Paris when trains can be supplied."

"Huh! they'll need all the hands they can muster to hold back that army we saw pa.s.sing through Brussels, I wager," said Josh.[1]

"Hundreds of thousands of Germans, if there was one," added Hanky Panky; "why, they pa.s.sed on the dog-trot for hours all that afternoon; and in the morning the drab-colored line was still moving steadily through the city, headed south."

"There, those two men are going down the road now, in the same direction we are," Josh went on to say; "I'd like to come up with them, and hear a few words in my own mother tongue. Let me tell you I'm tired of listening to only German, Flemish and French."

The two soldiers, hearing the splutter of the motorcycles behind them, drew to one side of the road so as to allow the trio of boys to pa.s.s.

Instead of doing this the chums dismounted and saluted.

"We're three Americans boys who got caught in the whirl of the war on the border of the Rhine country," Rod hastened to explain. "We've had a pretty warm experience getting through Belgium with our machines, but by great good luck managed to do so. Now we want to get to the front where the fighting is going on. We've a good reason for wishing to do that, you see. Where is your camp, may I ask, fellows?"

The two young Britishers exchanged surprised looks. Evidently they hardly knew whether to believe Rod or not, his story seemed so remarkable. Still they must have been favorably impressed with his looks, as nearly every person was, for presently they smiled broadly, and insisted on shaking hands with each of the motorcycle boys.

"Our camp is about a mile ahead, and alongside the road," one of them hastened to explain; "you will be held up there, unless you sheer off on a little side road that lies just beyond that batch of squatty trees."

Evidently this was intended as a gentle hint. Rod, however, only laughed.

"Thanks for the tip, my friend," he said gaily; "but we mean to spend the night in Calais, and will be only too glad to meet your commanding officer. We have papers he will be pleased to see; and there isn't a general on French soil but who would gladly let us pa.s.s on the recommendations we carry."

"When do you expect to start for the front?" asked Josh just then, as with his companions he prepared to move on.

"We have received notice that a train will be ready for us an hour after sundown; and let me tell you we are highly pleased to know it," came the reply, accompanied with a good-natured smile.

"What is the news from the front?" continued Josh eagerly.