The Guns of Europe Part 29

A rifle cracked in the air, and a bullet struck the ground between two of the horses. Then came a sinister burr-r-r and shots rained near them.

It was a machine gun in one of the aeroplanes, flying so low now that the angle at which it was fired was not acute.

John was brave and his will was so strong that it had great control over his sensitive and imaginative mind. Yet he was never in his life more terrified. That vivid picture of primeval man fleeing with all his might from monsters of the air, grew more vivid every moment. He was fairly drenched in terror, as his dim ancestor must have been in like case, nor was he ashamed of it. He had one look each at his comrades, and their faces were ghastly white. He knew that his emotions were theirs too.

The bullets flew thicker, but aim is uncertain, when one is flying from a moving machine in the air, at speeding targets, and most of the bullets flew wide. Carstairs was grazed on the shoulder, and Wharton's horse was touched lightly on the flank, but gasping, both horses and riders, they plunged into the wood, reckless alike of trees and undergrowth, desperately seeking safety from the winged terrors that pursued them.

It was fortunate for the three fugitives that it was not the ordinary European wood, trimmed and pruned like a park. It was heavy with foliage, and there was much undergrowth, in which the horse of Carstairs tripped and fell, throwing him. But he did not begrudge that, as the vines and bushes not only broke his fall, but meant safety.

"Since you're down Carstairs," said Wharton, "it's the duty of a comrade to join you."

He sprang off his own horse and stood, rifle in hand, among the bushes.

John also dismounted, although in more leisurely fashion. His heart had ceased to beat so heavily when they entered the wood. The immediate anger of being snapped up by those giants of the air pa.s.sed and the revulsion of feeling came. His pulses were still drumming in his ears, but he heard a louder throbbing above the trees. The angry and disappointed monsters were hovering there, still seeking their prey.

Bullets pattered on the leaves and twigs, but they went wide. The three horses shivered in terror, and the one that had been touched on the flank uttered a shrill neigh of distress. John took the lead.

"The undergrowth is thicker on our right," he said. "We must take our horse into it. They won't be able to get more than glimpses of us there."

"Right!" said Carstairs, "I think I can walk that far now. The strength is coming back into my knees, and I don't think they'll double under me.

I don't mind telling you fellows that I was never before in my life so scared."

"Your confession is mine too," said Wharton.

They reached the new refuge without harm, although more shots were fired from the planes. The density of the bushes there was due to a small stream flowing through the wood, and while the horses were still exposed, in a measure, they found almost complete cover for themselves.

The three lay down in the thicket and pointed upward the muzzles of their rifles.

The throbbing and droning over their heads had never ceased, and through the leaves they saw the armored planes hovering about not far above the tops of the trees. But the fugitives in their screen of leaf and thicket had become invisible.

"We'll have to chance it with our horses," whispered Wharton, "but for ourselves we may be able to give back as good as we send. Scott, are you a sharpshooter?"

"I'm a pretty good marksman, and I think I could hit one of those things if it should slow down."

"I suggest," said Carstairs, "that when one of us fires he immediately move away at least six or eight yards. Then they won't be able to locate us by the shots."

"Good for you old Britisher," said Wharton, "you do have moments of intelligence."

"Wharton, I'd like to say as much for you."

Both laughed but the laugh was uneasy and unnatural. It was merely the force of habit, compelling them to seek some sort of relief through words.

The planes had come together in a group for a few moments, but afterward they made a wide separation and flew about swiftly in irregular circles.

John knew that it was meant to disturb the aim of those below, because the flying men had certainly seen that they carried rifles.

John crouched under a bush, and with the muzzle of his high-powered rifle turned upward, continually sought a target through the leaves. In those moments of danger and fierce anger he did not have left a single scruple against taking the life of man. They had hunted him remorselessly in a strange and terrific way. His first illusion that they were gigantic birds of prey remained, and he would be doing a service to the world, if he slew them.

A rifle cracked almost in his ear and Wharton uttered a little cry of disappointment.

"I heard the bullet thud on the metal side of that Taube," he said. "It isn't fair fighting us this way."

Then he and John, following the suggestion of Carstairs, promptly moved to another point in the bushes. Three bullets from the Taubes struck near the place they had just left. But John still watching had caught sight of a head and body, the two hands grasping a rifle projecting over the side of a Taube. Quick as a flash he fired, and with an aim that was literally as sure as death.

The man in the Taube heaved up, as if wrenched by an electric shock, then plunged head-foremost over the side and fell clear, his rifle dropping before him. John caught a swift vision of a falling figure sprawled out hideously, and then he heard the rending crash of twigs and branches followed by a heavy thump. His heart thrilled with horror.

Those were human beings after all, up there in the air, and not primeval birds of prey.

"That one!" said Wharton. "Good shot, Scott!"

John's horror pa.s.sed. He was still fighting for his life, and it was the men in the air who had attacked. He moved away again and by chance he came to the tiny brook, on which the bushes were strung like a thread.

Lying flat on his face he drank, and he was astonished to find that he was so thirsty. Rising to his knees he glanced at his comrades and at the hovering aeroplanes. They had flown high out of the reach of bullets, and had drawn together as if for council. One of the horses rearing and threshing with fright had been killed by shots from the aeroplanes, but John did not notice it, until this moment. The other two tethered by their bridles to bushes had tried to break loose, but had failed. Now they were trembling all over, and were covered with perspiration. John felt sorry for them.

But the water had refreshed him wonderfully. He had not known before how hot and dry his throat had become. He invited his comrades to drink too, and they followed his example. Then they lay on their backs, and watched the council in the air. They could even hear the distant drumming of their motors. The machine, out of which John had shot the aviator, had carried two men, because there it was in the group with the others.

John's old and powerful feeling that he was at the end of one era and at the beginning of another, involving many new forces, returned with increased strength. To be besieged by enemies overhead was one of them, and, for the present at least, he saw no way of escape from the grove.

The sun was now in the zenith. The clouds, having gone away, made a clean sweep of it. There was not a fleck of dusk in the burning blue of the sky. The aeroplanes were outlined against it, as clearly as if they had been pictures in oil on canvas. The sun, great and golden, poured down fire, but it did not reach the three in the thicket.

"I wish I knew what those fellows were planning," said Carstairs. "At least they give us a rest, while they arrange for our destruction."

"But we're not destroyed yet, and you don't think it either, Carstairs,"

said Wharton. "Whatever I've said against you Britishers, I've never said you lacked courage."

"And if you had said it I'd have known that you didn't mean it."

Then the two shook hands in silence. Wharton closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

"What are they doing, John?" he asked presently.

"Still in council. A plane heavier than the others, evidently the one that has the machine gun is in the center. I judge therefore that it also carries the commander of the fleet."

"Acute reasoning. Wake me up when they seem to be starting anything.

Meanwhile I can't be bothered, because a few aeroplanes choose to use our heavens."

He stretched himself, and breathed deeply and peacefully. But John knew well enough that he was not asleep. His rifle lay by his side, where it could be s.n.a.t.c.hed up in a moment, and now and then his eyes opened to watch through the bushes the foe circling aloft. Carstairs also lay down bye and bye, but John remained sitting, the thick boughs of a bush covering him.

"Something has happened," he announced after awhile. "One of the planes, the smallest, I think is flying away toward the east."

The others sat up. The aeroplane, high in air, was going at tremendous speed. The others remained over the grove, swinging about lazily in circles, but too high for the rifles.

"Now, Carstairs," said Wharton, "you English pretend to omniscience. So, tell us at once what that means."

"If anybody had omniscience it would be we British of course, but I confess, Wharton, that this is beyond me. That aeroplane is certainly going fast. Now it's as big as my hand, now it's the size of an egg, now it's a dot and now it's gone."

"Perhaps it's seeking help," said John.

"I don't see why," said Wharton. "Enough are left to hold us in this grove. Their only difficulty is in getting at us. Even if they brought more the trees and the foliage would still be here to protect us."

"That's true," admitted John. "Then it may have been damaged by some of our bullets."

"But it left like a racer. I don't know how these machines are built, but I'd wager from the way it flew that not a wheel or spring or screw or rivet in it was damaged."