Chapter 9. The Puzzling Signal

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_ CHAPTER IX. THE PUZZLING SIGNAL

When John awoke a bright sun was shining in at the window, bringing with it the distant mutter of cannon, a small fire was burning on the hearth on the opposite side of the room, a man was bending over the coals, and the pleasant odor of boiling coffee came to his nostrils. He sat up in amazement and looked at the man who, not turning around, went on placidly with his work of preparing breakfast. But he recognized the figure.

"Weber!" he exclaimed.

"None other!" said the Alsatian, facing about, and showing a cheery countenance. "I was in the boat just behind you when your own was demolished by the shell. In all the spray and foam and confusion I saw my chance, and dropping overboard from ours I floated with the stream. I had an idea that you might escape, and since you must come down the river between the two armies I also, for the same reasons, chose the same path. I came upon this cottage several hours ago, picked the fastenings of the door and to my astonishment and delight found you, my friend, unharmed, but sound asleep upon the bench there. I slept a while in the corner, then I undertook to make breakfast with provisions and utensils that I found in the forest. Ah, it was easy enough last night to find almost anything one wished. The fields and forest were full of dead men."

"I provided myself in the same way, but I'm delighted to see you. I was never before in my life so lonely. How chance seems to throw us together so often!"

"And we've both profited by it. The coffee is boiling now, Mr. Scott. I've a good German coffee pot and two cups that I took from the fallen. God rest their souls, they'll need them no more, while we do."

"The battle goes on," said John, listening a moment at the window.

"Somewhere on the hundred mile line it has continued without a break of an instant, and it may go on this way for a week or a month. Ah, it's a fearful war, Mr. Scott, and we've seen only the beginning! But drink the coffee now, while it's hot. And I've warmed too, some of the cold food from the knapsacks. German sausage is good at any time."

"And just now it's heavenly. I'm glad we have such a plentiful supply of sausage and bread, even if we did have to take it from the dead. I want to tell you again how pleasant it is to see you here."

"I feel that way too. We're like comrades united. Now if we only had your English friend Carstairs, your American friend Wharton, and Lannes we'd be quite a family group."

"I fancy that we'll see Lannes before we do Carstairs and Wharton."

"I think so too. He'll certainly be hovering today somewhere over the ground between the two armies--either to observe the Germans or more likely to carry messages between the French generals. I tell you, Mr. Scott, that Philip Lannes is perhaps the most wonderful young man in Europe. In addition to his extraordinary ability in the air he has courage, coolness, perception and quickness almost without equal. There's something Napoleonic about him."

"You know he's descended from the family of the famous Marshal, Lannes, not from Lannes himself, but from a close relative, and the blood's the same. They say that blood will tell, and don't you think that the spirit of the great Lannes may have reappeared in Philip?"

"It's altogether likely."

"I've been thinking a lot about Napoleon. There's a wonderful picture of him as a young republican general in a room here. Perhaps it's the conditions around us, but at times I am sure the heroic days of the First Republic have returned to France. The spirit that animated Hoche and Marceau and Kleber and Bonaparte, before he became spoiled, seems to have descended upon the French. And there were Murat, Lannes and Lefebvre, and Berthier and the others. Think of that wonderful crowd of boys leading the republican armies to victories over all the kings! It seems to me the most marvelous thing in the history of war, since the Greeks turned back the Persians."

Weber refilled his coffee cup, drank a portion of it, and said:

"I have thought of it, Mr. Scott, I have thought of it more than once. It may be that the Gallic fury has been aroused. It has seemed so to me since the German armies were turned back from Paris. The French have burned more gunpowder than any other nation in Europe, and they're a fighting race. It would appear now that the Terrible Year, 1870, was merely an aggregation of mistakes, and did not represent either the wisdom or natural genius of the nation."

"That is, the French were then far below normal, as we would say, but have now returned to their best, and that the two Kaisers made the mistake of thinking the French in their lowest form were the French in their usual form?"

"It may be so," said Weber, thoughtfully. "Nations reckon their strength in peace, but only war itself discloses the fact. Evidently tremendous miscalculations have been made by somebody."

"By somebody? By whom? That's why I'm against the Kaisers and all the secret business of the military monarchies. War made over night by a dozen men! a third of the world's population plunged into battle! and the rest drawn into the suffering some way or other! I don't like a lot of your European ways."

Weber shook his head.

"We've inherited kings," he said. "But how did you find this place?"

"Accident. Stumbled on it, and mighty grateful I was, too. It kept me warm and dry after standing so long in the Marne I thought I was bound to turn into a fish. Isolated little place, but the Germans have been passing near. Before sleeping last night, I went out scouting and as I stood behind a hedge I saw a lot of them. I recognized in a motor the Very High Born, his High Mightiness, the owner of the earth, the Prince of Auersperg."

Weber took another drink of coffee.

"An able man and one of our most bitter enemies," he said. "A foe of democracy everywhere. I think he was to have been made governor of Paris, and then Paris would have known that it had a governor. I've seen him in Alsace, and I've heard a lot about him."

"But all that's off now. I fancy that the next governor of Paris, if it should have a governor, will be a Frenchman. But the day is advancing, Weber; what do you think we ought to do?"

"I've been thinking of your friend Lannes. I've an idea that he'll come for you, if he finds an interval in his duties."

"But how could he possibly find me? Why, it's the old needle in the haystack business."

"He couldn't unless we made some sort of signal."

"There's no signal that I can make."

"But there's one that I can. Look, Mr. Scott."

He unbuttoned his long French coat, and took from his breast a roll of red, white and blue. He opened it and disclosed a French flag about four feet long.

"If that were put in a conspicuous place," he said, "an aviator with glasses could see it a long way, and he would come to find out what it meant."

"The top of a tree is the place for it!" exclaimed John. "Now if you only had around here a real tree, or two, in place of what we call saplings in my country, we might do some fine signaling with the flag."

"We'll try it, but I think we should go a considerable distance from the cottage. If Germans instead of French should come then we'd have a better chance of escaping among the hedges and vineyards."

John agreed with him and they quickly made ready, each taking his automatic and knapsack, and leaving the fire to die of itself on the hearth.

"I'm telling that cottage good-bye with regret," said John, as they walked away. "I spent some normal and peaceful hours there last night and it's a neat little place. I hope its owners will be able to come back to it. As soon as I open the stable door, in order that the horse may go where he will, I'll be ready."

He gave the big animal a friendly pat as he left and Marne gazed after him with envious sorrowful eyes.

They walked a full mile, keeping close to the Marne, where the trees and bushes were thickest, and listened meanwhile to the fourth day's swelling roar of the battle. Its long continuance had made it even more depressing and terrifying than in its earlier stages. To John's mind, at least, it took on the form of a cataclysm, of some huge paroxysm of the earth. He ate to it, he slept to it, he woke to it, and now he was walking to it. The illusion was deepened by the fact that no human being save Weber was visible to him. The country between the two monstrous battle lines was silent and deserted.

"Apparently," said Weber, "we're in no danger of human interference as we walk here."

"Not unless a shell coming from a point fifteen miles or so beyond the hills should drop on us, or we should be pierced by an arrow from one of our Frenchmen in the clouds. But so far as I can see there's nothing above us, although I can make out one or two aeroplanes far toward the east."

"The air is heavy and cloudy and that's against them, but they'll be out before long. You'll see. I think, Mr. Scott, that we'll find a good tree in that little grove of beeches there."

"The tall one in the center. Yes, that'll suit us."

They inspected the tree and then made a long circuit about it, finding nobody near. John, full of zeal and enthusiasm, volunteered to climb the tree and fasten the flag to its topmost stem, and Weber, after some claims on his own behalf, agreed. John was a good climber, alert, agile and full of strength, and he went up the trunk like an expert. It was an uncommonly tall tree for France, much more than a sapling, and when he reached the last bough that would support him he found that he could see over all the other trees and some of the low hills. At a little distance ran the Marne, a silver sheet, and he thought he could discern faint puffs of smoke on the hills beyond. No human being was in sight, but although high in the tree he could still feel the vibrations of the air beneath the throb of so many great guns. Several aeroplanes hovered at points far distant, and he knew that others would be on the long battle line.

Reaching as high as he could he tied the flag with a piece of twine that Weber had given him--the Alsation seemed to have provided for everything--and then watched it as it unfolded and fluttered in the light breeze. He felt a certain pride, as he had done his part of the task well. The flag waved above the green leaves and any watcher of the skies could see it.

"How does it show?" he called to Weber.

"Well, indeed. You'd better climb down now. If the Germans come from the air they'll get you there, and if they come on land they'll have you in the tree. You'll be caught between air and earth."

"That being the case I'll come down at once," said John, and he descended the tree rapidly. At Weber's advice they withdrew to a cluster of vines growing near, where they would be well hidden, since their signal was as likely to draw enemies as friends.

"I think Lannes will surely see that flag," said Weber.

"Why do you have such great confidence in his coming?" asked John.

"He inspires confidence, when you see him, and there's his reputation. I've an idea that he'll be carrying dispatches between the two wings of the French army, dispatches of vast importance, since the different French forces have to cooperate now along a line of four or five score miles. Of course the telephone and the telegraph are at work, too, but the value of the aeroplane as a scout and dispatch bearer cannot be over estimated."

"One is coming now," said John, "and I think it has been attracted by our flag. I take it to be German."

"Then we'd better keep very close. Still, there's little chance of our being seen here, and the aviators, even if they suspect a presence, can't afford to descend, leave their planes and search for anybody."

"I agree with you there. One can remain here in comparative safety and watch the results of our signal. That machine is coming fast and I'm quite sure it's German."

"An armored machine with two men and a light rapid fire gun in it. Beyond a doubt it will circle about our tree."

The plane was very near now, and assuredly it was German. John could discern the Teutonic cast of their countenances, as the two men in it leaned over and looked at the flag. They dropped lower and lower and then flew in circles about the tree. John, despite his anxiety and suspense, could not fail to notice the humorous phase of it. The plane certainly could not effect a landing in the boughs, and if it descended to the ground in order that one of their number might get out, climb the tree and capture the flag, they would incur the danger of a sudden swoop from French machines. Besides, the flag would be of no value to them, unless they knew who put it there and why.

"The Germans, of course, see that it's a French flag," he said to Weber. "I wonder what they're going to do."

"I think they'll have to leave it," said Weber, "because I can now see other aeroplanes to the west, aeroplanes which may be French, and they dare not linger too long."

"And our little flag may make a big disturbance in the heavens."

"So it seems."

The German plane made circle after circle around the tree, finally drew off to some distance, and then, as it wavered back and forth, its machine gun began to spit fire. Little boughs and leaves cut from the tree fell to the ground, but the flag, untouched, fluttered defiantly in the light breeze.

"They're trying to shoot it down," said John, "and with such an unsteady gun platform they've missed every time."

"I doubt whether they'll continue firing," said Weber. "An aeroplane doesn't carry any great amount of ammunition and they can't afford to waste much."

"They're through now," said John. "See, they're flying away toward the east, and unless my imagination deceives me, their machine actually looks crestfallen, while our flag is snapping away in the wind, haughty and defiant."

"A vivid fancy yours, Mr. Scott, but it's easy to imagine that German machine looking cheap, because that's just the way the men on board it must feel. Suppose we sit down here and take our ease. No flying man can see through those vines over our heads, and we can watch in safety. We're sure to draw other scouts of the air, while for us it's an interesting and comparatively safe experience."

"Our flag is certainly an attraction," said John, making himself comfortable on the ground. "There's a bird of passage now, coming down from the north as swift as a swallow."

"It's a little monoplane," said Weber, "and it certainly resembles a swallow, as it comes like a flash toward this tree. I thought at first it might be Lannes in the _Arrow_, but the plane is too small, and it's of German make."

"I fancy it won't linger long. This is not a healthy bit of space for lone fellows in monoplanes."

The little plane slackened its speed, as it approached the tree, and then sailed by it at a moderate rate. When it was opposite the flag a spurt of flame came from the pistol of the man in it, and John actually laughed.

"That was sheer spite," he said. "Did he think he could shoot our flag away with a single bullet from a pistol when a machine gun has just failed? That's right, turn about and make off as fast as you can, you poor little mono!"

The monoplane also curved around the tree, but did not make a series of circles. Instead, when its prow was turned northward it darted off again in that direction, going even more swiftly than it had come, as if the aviator were ashamed of himself and wished to get away as soon as possible from the scene of his disgrace. Away and away it flew, dwindling to a black speck and then to nothing.

John's shoulders shook, and Weber, looking at him, was forced to smile too.

"Well, it was funny," he said. "Our flag is certainly making a stir in the heavens."

"I wonder what will come next," said John. "It's like bait drawing birds of prey."

The heavens were now beautifully clear, a vault of blue velvet, against which anything would show. Far away the cannon groaned and thundered, and the waves of air pulsed heavily, but John noticed neither now. His whole attention was centered upon the flag, and what it might call from the air.

"In such a brilliant atmosphere we can certainly see our visitors from afar," he said.

"So we can," said Weber, "and lo! another appears out of the east!"

The dark speck showed on the horizon and grew fast, coming apparently straight in their direction. John did not believe it had seen their flag at first, owing to the great distance, but was either a messenger or a scout. As it soon began to descend from its great height in the air, although still preserving a straight course for the tree, he felt sure that the flag had now come into its view. It grew very fast in size and was outlined with startling clearness against the burning blue of the sky.

The approaching machine consisted of two planes alike in shape and size, superimposed and about six feet apart, the whole with a stabilizing tail about ten feet long and six feet broad. John saw as it approached that the aviator sat before the motor and screw, but that the elevating and steering rudders were placed in front of him. There were three men besides the aviator in the machine.

"A biplane," said John.

"Yes," said Weber, "I recognize the type of the machine. It's originally a French model."

"But in this case, undoubtedly a German imitation. They've seen our flag, because I can make out one of the men with glasses to his eyes. They hover about as if in uncertainty. No wonder they can't make up their minds, because there's the tricolor floating from the top of that tall tree, and not a thing in the world to explain why it's in such a place. A man with a rifle is about to take a shot at it. Bang! There it goes! But I can't see that the bullet has damaged our flag. Look, how it whips about and snaps defiance! Now, all the men except the aviator himself have out glasses and are studying the phenomenon of our signal. They come above the tree, and I think they're going to make a swoop around the grove near the ground. Lie close, Weber! As I found out once before, a thick forest is the best defense against aeroplanes. They can't get through the screen of boughs."

They heard a whirring and drumming, and the biplane not more than fifty feet above the earth made several circles about the little wood. John saw the men in it very clearly. He could even discern the German cast of countenance where all except the one at the wheel that controlled the two rudders had thrown back their hoods and taken off their glasses. The three carried rifles which they held ready for use, in case they detected an enemy.

Whirling around like a vast primeval bird of prey the biplane began to rise, as if disappointed of a victim, and winding upward was soon above the trees. Then John heard the rapid crackle of rifles.

"Shooting at our flag again!" he exclaimed.

But the whizz of a bullet that buried itself in the earth near him told him better.

"It isn't possible that they've seen us!" he exclaimed.

"No," said Weber, "they're merely peppering the woods and vines in the hope that they'll hit a concealed enemy, if such there should be."

"That being the case," said John, "I'm going to make my body as small as possible, and push myself into the ground if I can."

He lay very close, but the rifle fire quickly passed to other portions of the wood, and then died away entirely. John straightened himself out and saw the biplane becoming smaller, as it flew off in the direction whence it had come.

"I hope you'll come to no good," he said, shaking his fist at the disappearing plane. "You've scared me half to death with your shots, and I hope that both your rudders will get out of gear and stay out of gear! I hope that the wheel controlling them will be smashed up! I hope that the top plane will crash into the bottom one! I hope that a French shell will shoot your tail off! And I hope that you'll tumble to the earth and lie there, nothing but a heap of rotting wood and rusty old metal!"

"Well done, Mr. Scott!" said Weber. "That was quite a curse, but I think it will take something more solid to disable the biplane."

"I think so too, but I've relieved my feelings, and after a man has done so he can work a lot better. What are we to look for now, Weber? We don't seem to have success in attracting anything but Germans. If Lannes is coming at all, as you think he will, he'll get a pretty late ticket of admission to our reserved section of the air."

"You must remember that the sky above us is a pretty large place, and at any rate we're a drawing power. We're always pulling something out of the ether."

"And our biggest catch is coming now! Look, Weber, look I If that isn't one of Herr Zeppelin's railroad trains of the air then I'll eat it when it gets here!"

"You're right, Mr. Scott. There the monster comes. It can't be anything but a Zeppelin! They must have one of their big sheds not far east of us."

"We'll hear its rattling soon. Like the others it will surely see our flag and make for it. But if they take a notion to shoot up the wood, as the men on that biplane did, we'd better hunt holes. A Zeppelin can carry a lot of soldiers."

The Zeppelin was not moving fast. It had none of the quick graceful movements of the aeroplanes, but came on slowly like some huge monster of the air, looking about for prey. It turned southeast for a moment or two, then some one on board saw the flag and coming back it lumbered toward the tree.

"Ugly things," said John. "Lannes and I blew up one once, and I wish I had the same chance against that fellow up there. But they're in the same puzzled state that the other fellows were. Men on both platforms are examining the flag through glasses, and the flag doesn't give a rap for them. It's standing out in the wind, now, straight and stiff. It seems to know that old Noah's ark can't make it out."

The huge Zeppelin drew its length along the grove, coming as close to the trees as it dared, then passed above, and after some circling lumbered away to the south.

"Good-bye, old Mr. Curiosity," exclaimed John. "You weren't invited here, and I don't care whether you ever come again. Besides, you're nothing but a big bluff, anyway. There's our flag, still standing straight out in the wind, so you can see every stripe on it, and yet you haven't, despite your visit, the remotest idea why it was put there!"

Weber smiled.

"They've all gone away as ignorant as they were when they came," he said, "but we must be due for a French visitor or two. After so long a run of Germans we should have Frenchmen soon."

"I begin to believe with you that Lannes will arrive some time or other. He flies fast and far and in time he must see our signal."

"I've never doubted it. Meanwhile I think I'll take a little luncheon, and I'd advise you to do the same. We haven't had such a bad time here, saving those random rifle shots from the biplane."

"Not at all. It's like watching a play, and you certainly have a clear field for observation, when you look up at the heavens. The stage is always in full view."

John was feeling uncommonly good. Their concealment while they watched the scouts and messengers from the skies coming to see the meaning of the flag had been easy and restful. Much of his long and painful tension had relaxed. The hum of distant artillery was in his ears as ever, like a moaning of the wind, but he was growing so used to it that he would now have noticed its absence rather than its presence. So he ate his share of bread and sausage with a good appetite, meanwhile keeping a watchful eye upon the heavens which burned in the same brilliant blue.

It was now about noon. The rain the night before had given fresh tints to the green of grass and foliage. The whole earth, indifferent to the puny millions that struggled on its vast bosom, seemed refreshed and revitalized. A modest little bird in brown plumage perched on a bough near them, and, indifferent too, to war, poured forth a brilliant volume of song.

"Happy little fellow," John said. "Nothing to do but eat and sleep and sing."

"Unless he's snapped up by some bigger bird," said Weber, "but having been an hour without callers we're now about to have a new one. And as this comes from the west it's likely to be French."

John felt excitement, and stood up. Yes, there was the machine coming out of the blue haze in the west, soaring beautifully and fast. It was very high, but his eye, trained now, saw that it was descending gradually. He felt an intense hope that it was Lannes, but he soon knew that it was not lie. The approaching machine could not possibly be the _Arrow_.

"It's a Bleriot monoplane," said Weber. "I can tell the type almost as far as I can see it. It's much like a gigantic bird, with powerful parchment wings mounted upon a strong body. The wings as you see now present a concave surface to the earth. They always do that. The flyer sits between the two wings and has in front of him the lever with which he controls the whole affair."

"You seem to know a good deal about flying machines, Weber."

"Oh, yes, I've observed them a lot. I've always been curious about them and I've attended the great flying meets at Rheims, but personally I'm a coward about heights. I study the types of these wonderful machines, but I don't go up in 'em. That's a little fellow coming now and he's seen the flag."

"There's only one man in the plane, but as he's undoubtedly French what do you think we ought to do? He can't carry us away with him in the machine, it's too small. Do you think we should signal him to come to the ground and have a talk?"

"Perhaps we'd better let him pass, Mr. Scott. We have no real information to give. He might suspect that we are Germans and a lot of time would be lost maneuvering. Suppose we remain in hiding, and say nothing until Lannes himself appears."

"You still feel sure that he will come?"

"It's a conviction."

"Same way with me, and I agree with you that we'd better let our friend in the Bleriot go by. He's descending fast now. The plane certainly does look like a bird. Reminds me somewhat of a German Taube, though this machine is much smaller."

"The pilot will take only a look or two at the flag. Then, if we don't hail him, he'll sail swiftly back to the west."

"For good reasons too. The air here is chiefly in the German sphere of influence, and if I were in his place I'd take to my heels too at a single glance."

"That's what he's doing now. He's flying past the flag just as one of the Germans did. He leans over to take a look at it, can't make out what it means, glances back apprehensively toward the German quarter of the heavens, and now he's sliding like a streak through the blue for French air."

"So near and yet so far! A friend in the air just over our heads, and we had to let him go. Well, he couldn't have done us any good."

"No, he couldn't, and he's gone back so fast that he's out of sight already, but another and different inhabitant of the air is coming out of the south. See, the shape off there, Mr. Scott. Wait until it comes nearer, and I think I can tell you what it is. Now it's made out the flag and is steering for it."

"What class of plane is it, Weber? Can you tell that yet?"

"Yes. It's an Esnault-Pelterie, an invention of a young Frenchman. It's a monoplane with flexible, warped wings. It's made of steel tubes, welded together, and it has two wheels, one behind the other for contact with the ground."

"I noticed something queer in its appearance. It's the wheels. I don't call this machine any great beauty, but it seems to cut the air well. I suppose we'd better treat it as we did the Bleriot--let it go as it came, none the worse and none the wiser?"

"I think so. But we have no other choice! That flyer is a suspicious fellow and he isn't taking any chances. He's come fairly close to the flag, and now he's sheering off at an angle."

"I don't blame him. He probably has something more important to do than to unravel the meaning of a flag in a tree top."

"Nor I either. But whatever comes we'll wait for Lannes, always for Lannes. The heavens here, Mr. Scott, are peopled with strange birds, but of all the lot there is one particular bird for which we are looking."

"Right again. My eyes have grown a little weary of watching the skies. For a long stare, blue isn't as soft and easy a sight as green, and I think I'll look at the grass and leaves for a little while."

"Then while you rest I'll keep an outlook and when I'm tired you can relieve me."

"Good enough."

John lay down in the grass and rested his body while he eased his worn eyes. Weber commented now and then on the new birds in the heavens, aeroplanes of all kinds, but they kept their distance.

"The air over us is not held now by either French or Germans," said Weber, "and I imagine that only the more daring make incursions into it. Perhaps, too, they are kept busy elsewhere, because, as my ears distinctly tell me, the battle is increasing in volume."

"I noticed the swelling fire when I lay down here," said John. "It seems a strange thing, but for a while I had forgotten all about the battle."

Presently Weber took his eyes from the heavens, moved about and looked uneasy.

"If I'm not mistaken," he said, "I caught a glimpse of steel down the river. I think it was a lance head glittering in the sun, and Uhlans may be near."

"How far away do you think it was."

"A half-mile or more. I must take a look in that direction. I'm a good scout, Mr. Scott, and I'll see what's up. Watch here will you, until I come back? It may be some time."

"All right, but don't get yourself captured, Weber. I'd be mighty lonesome without you."

"Don't fear for me. Of course, as I told you, I'll be gone for some time, and if I may suggest, Mr. Scott, I wouldn't move from among the vines."

"Catch me doing it! I'll say here in my green bower and as my eyes are back in form I'll watch the heavens."

"Good-bye, then, for a while."

Weber slipped away. His tread was so light that he vanished, as if he had melted into air.

"That man would certainly have made a good scout in our old Indian days," thought John, and with the thought came the conviction that Weber was too clever to let himself be caught. Then he turned his attention back to the heavens.

They were now well on into the afternoon, and the sun was at the zenith. A haze of gold shimmered against the vast blue vault. A wind perfumed with grass and green leaves, brought also the ceaseless roar of the guns, and now and then the bitter taste of burned gunpowder. The faint trembling of the earth, or rather of the air just above it, went on, and John, turning about in his little bower, surveyed the heavens from all quarters.

He saw shapes, faint, dark and floating on every horizon, but none of them came near until a full half-hour had elapsed. Then one shot out of the west, sailed toward the northeast, but curving suddenly, came back in the direction of the tree. As the shape grew larger and more defined John's heart began to throb. He had seen many aeroplanes that day, and most of them had been swift and graceful, but none was as swift and graceful as the one that was now coming.

It was a machine, beautiful in shape, and as lithe and fast as the darting swallow. There could be none other like it in the heavens, and his heart throbbed harder. Intuition, perhaps, was back of knowledge and he never for a moment doubted that it was he for whom they had looked so long.

The aeroplane seemed fairly to shoot out of space. First its outlines became visible, and then the man at the rudder. He came straight toward the tree, dropped low and circled about it, while John rushed from the vines and cried as loud as he could:

"Lannes! Lannes, it's me! John Scott! I've been waiting for you!"

The _Arrow_ dropped further, barely touched the earth, and Lannes, leaning over, shouted to John in tones, tense and sharp with command:

"Give the plane a shove with all your might, and jump in. For God's sake don't linger, man! Jump!"

The impulse communicated by Lannes was so powerful that before he knew what he was doing John pushed the _Arrow_ violently and sprang into the extra seat, just as it was leaving the earth.

Lannes gave the rudder a strong twist and the aeroplane shot up like a mounting bird. John got back his breath and presence of mind.

"Wait, Philip! Wait!" he cried. "We're leaving behind our friend Weber! He's down there, somewhere by the river!"

Lannes made no reply. The _Arrow_ continued its rise, sharp and swift, and John heard a crackling sound below. Little missiles, steel and deadly, shot by them. One passed so close to his face that his breath went again. When he recovered it once more the _Arrow_, its inmates, unharmed, was far above the range of rifles, flying in a circle.

"Look down, John," said Lannes. _

Read next: Chapter 10. Old Friends

Read previous: Chapter 8. The Sport Of Kings

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