"May I see?" inquired Francois, interestedly crowding forward.
"Sure," replied Jimmie. "Here he has written a 'ha, ha' message, and given it to the guard, claiming it was his pass to search our machine! I'll bet the villain has wrecked the Grey Eagle from stem to stern!"
"Let's look it over and find out," suggested Harry at once.
Producing searchlights, in compliance with Harry's thought, the boys carefully examined the outer parts of the machine. Apparently not a thing had been disturbed. The instruments were all in place, the lockers intact, and all guy and brace wires were in place. The boys felt easier.
"Maybe he put some more dynamite in the engine!" urged Jimmie.
"He didn't have time!" declared Jack.
"By the way, Jimmie," suggested Ned to the lad who was near the instruments, "why need we grope around here with only searchlights. We have lots of current, suppose you turn on the lights for us."
"Right-O!" assented Jimmie, reaching for the switch.
No illumination resulted. Again the switch was turned.
"He's cut a wire somewhere!" declared the lad. "Maybe he had a pair of pliers and just nipped off what he could reach."
"Try to start the engine, Harry," requested Ned. "Maybe he cut the wires leading to that as well as the lamp circuit. It would not surprise me to find that he had done so. It would be just like him!"
For the first time the engine failed to respond to Harry's touch on the levers. There was no current. The wires had been severed.
"Harry, you are familiar with the lay out of this little wagon," Jimmie suggested. "Suppose you overhaul the wiring and repair it."
For nearly an hour Harry, whose experience about automobiles had been very extensive, labored, with the assistance of his chums, to repair the damage done by their enemy. Nearly every electric wire in the equipment had been severed, apparently with the aid of powerful pliers.
At length the boys were rewarded by a flash of light from the lamps. This enabled the work to go ahead more quickly, and in a comparatively short time the engine had been wired and started.
Francois now came forward with a suggestion. He had been conversing earnestly with the guard while the boys worked on the machine.
"The man tells me," he said, "that the two men were talking as they left the place. He heard them mention Lille several times, and thinks that is their destination. Perhaps it would be well to consider this."
"Hurrah for Lille!" shouted Jimmie. "Where is the place?"
"It is about 125 miles nearly due north of Paris," replied Ned.
"It may be only a trap!" objected Jack. "Better go slowly!"
"Trap nothing!" Jimmie protested. "He didn't know the guard overheard him. And, if he did, he probably didn't think he'd tell us!"
"It can do no harm to go there, anyway," argued Harry. "If we go to Berlin it won't be much out of our way. I vote we go to Lille."
All thought of sleep had been driven from the boys by their recent experiences. They were now anxious to be in pursuit of The Rat.
Ned showed the policeman his permit from headquarters, and lost no time in preparing the Grey Eagle for flight. Soon the machine soared into the air. Jimmie waved his hand to the policemen, whose white gloves vibrated a message of good wishes until he could no longer see them.
Below them dimly lay Paris. The Seine wound through a valley now dark and uninviting. The eastern sky, however, was becoming gray.
"I hear another machine!" announced Harry presently.
The droning of a motor became apparent to all. A monoplane was rapidly approaching. The boys watched its approach with interest.
"He's going above us," announced Harry as the machine drew near.
Suddenly a rifle shot rang out in the morning stillness. A bullet ripped its way through the forward rudder, causing the Grey Eagle to veer abruptly in its flight. Another shot came from the monoplane.
Ned with difficulty brought the Grey Eagle back to a tranquil position. So unexpectedly had the rifle shot struck the forward rudder that he had been very close to losing control of the craft and pitching the entire party to earth. With a frantic effort he regained his balance.
Due to the fact that the boys had not felt speed essential to their purpose, no attempt as yet had been made to put the Grey Eagle to its best pace. The monoplane, however, seemed to be traveling at a high rate of speed, and was not long in securing a favorable position for the evident purpose of its occupants.
"If he gets above us, he'll drop a bomb!" cried Jimmie, in an angry tone. "I'll bet it's The Rat! He's been watching for us to start!"
"Put on a little more speed, Ned," urged Jack anxiously. "Let's try to prevent his getting above us, if we can. I don't like this!"
"Hang on!" cried Ned, glancing upward toward their pursuer. "I'm going to try to dodge him if I can. He's clever, though!"
Obedient to Ned's request, the boys prepared for sudden and unexpected evolutions on, the part of the Grey Eagle. They were none too soon, for almost instantly Ned began a series of movements that were calculated to frustrate any attempt on the part of the enemy to successfully launch a missile with telling effect. Darting and dodging hither and thither, the lad gradually drew away from the monoplane, which slackened speed.
With a pull at the controlling levers Ned suddenly began an ascent that quickly carried the Grey Eagle to a level above that of the monoplane. He hoped thereby to gain the advantage of position, but the pilot of the other machine was evidently prepared for just such a move. He sheered off abruptly to one side, as if abandoning the chase.
"There he goes, the coward!" exulted Jimmie, as the Grey Eagle was brought to an even keel at a slight elevation above its rival. "Now see him beat it when he thinks we have the best of him!"
"If you think he's going to leave us alone," Jack suggested, "let's get down a ways. It won't be so cold as up here, and we can see the country better. Except for a river or two, I can't distinguish anything down there. We ought to take a look at the place."
"Sure," agreed Harry, "let's travel a little lower."
"Where is the other fellow now?" questioned Ned, as he brought the Grey Eagle downward. "I don't see him in front of us."
"I can see him away off to the right," announced Francois.
"Yes, there he is, as big as life, and twice as natural!" put in Jimmie. "Let me have the binoculars, and I'll see if I can make out who the fellows are. I guess it's getting light enough now so I can see."
After a long examination of the other machine, Jimmie handed the glasses to Harry. He shook his head and glanced quickly at Ned. "I wonder what that fellow thinks of himself," he said presently. "Do you suppose he realizes that other people consider him the worst kind of a sneak? He surely must be case hardened if he doesn't hate himself!"
"If his past actions toward us is any indication," Ned offered, "he probably thinks he is a fine fellow being heartily abused by four boys."
"Really feels sorry for himself?" Jimmie asked, with contempt.
"I shouldn't wonder a bit! People get queer views sometimes."
"Here he comes back again!" announced Harry, who had the glasses. "He's hitting it up some, too! Looks like he's in an awful hurry!"
Astonished, the boys saw their pursuer heading again for the Grey Eagle, but this time at a much greater altitude. His course was laid so that it would cross that of the machine containing the five boys.
With some anxiety the lads observed the maneuver. Jimmie drew his automatic from its holster, prepared to reply should any more shots be fired in their direction. The clamor of the approaching motor grew louder.
"He's going to cross away above us!" announced Harry, watching closely. "I can see both the pilot and the passenger now," he continued, "and it looks remarkably like The Rat. I believe it is he!"
"Here comes the sun at last!" shouted Jimmie. "I'm glad we can have some more light. We can tell better what the fellow is doing."
"Guess we'll have to be ready for anything from him!" Harry said, with his eyes still at the glasses. "They're evidently trying to do something up there. The passenger is working away at a part of the machine!"
"What does he seem to be doing?" Jimmie inquired.
"I can't tell from here, but I can see him apparently adjusting something. He seems to be quite busy about it, whatever it is!"
"Maybe he's preparing a bomb or something to drop on us!"
"He's dropping his wrench or something!" cried Harry excitedly. "I can see something flashing in the sunlight as it drops from the bottom of his chassis. There, he's dropped another," he continued.
"What can it be?" wondered Jack. "He can't be dropping tools."
"I see the flash of some more!" announced Jimmie excitedly.
"Why, there are lots of them!" was Harry's astonished statement. "If we don't look out some of them will hit us! Any more speed, Ned?"
"Lot's of it," reassuringly answered Ned, gazing upward at the other machine, now almost overhead. "It puzzles me, though, what that fellow is dropping. It can't be he had ballast and wants to discharge it."
All the boys were intently observing the oncoming monoplane as it appeared to be following a course at some distance above their own level. The curious flashes of light, as if from falling objects, caused them considerable wonderment. Not for long were they left in doubt.
Directly the monoplane had passed over the Grey Eagle the boys heard a whizzing noise, as of a piece of metal rushing through the air at a high rate of speed. This was followed by several more. Then came a crash aboard the Grey Eagle itself. Ned gave utterance to a cry of pain.
"Jimmie, Jimmie!" he called. "Where are you, Jimmie?"
"Here I am, Ned, what's the matter?" responded the boy.
"Can you take the levers? I can't see a thing! I'm hit!"
Jimmie sprang to the levers at Ned's request, noting with horror that blood was flowing freely into Ned's eyes from a gash in his forehead.
"Jack, Harry, Francois!" cried Jimmie. "Help Ned out of his seat here, so I can sit in. He's badly hurt! Help him quickly!"
Willing hands were extended to Ned's assistance. Guiding him in his efforts to leave the pilot's position, Francois and Harry soon were able to seat Ned in a more favorable place. Jack, meanwhile, had unlocked a box containing a first aid outfit, and now was ready to assist his chum with medical attention, which seemed to be badly needed.
"What was it hit me?" Ned asked presently, as Jack succeeded in stopping the flow of blood. "I saw a flash and heard something strike, then felt a smash right on my forehead. I guess he got me, all right."
"I'll bet I know!" announced Jimmie. "The fellow was dropping a lot of iron bolts or arrows or darts or something. One of 'em fell through the cowl and has smashed the compass. Maybe it was the glass cover of the compass that hit you. I see the bolt now!"
"Where is it?" inquired Harry. "Let me look at it."
"Here it is, sticking through the floor. Here's the place it went through the cowl, leaving a jagged hole in the metal."
Harry proceeded to extract the bolt from its lodging place, and soon brought it forth for inspection. Jimmie kept a sharp lookout for the other machine, preparing to elude it if it returned.
With a considerable degree of interest the boys examined the object brought forth by Harry. It was a bolt or shaft of iron about nine inches long, and had been provided with a vane at one end, evidently for the purpose of causing it to fall perpendicularly in its flight.
"Gee!" ejaculated Harry. "A few bushels of those things dropped into a regiment of soldiers would play sad havoc! They'd go through a man!"
"You're right, they would!" declared Jack. "If they were dropped from any considerable distance, they'd go through more than a man!"
"Well, Ned, you're lucky the thing didn't hit you instead of the compass," congratulated Harry. "We need both, but you more than the compass, if either is to be spared! I'm glad it wasn't worse!"
"Let's be ready for him if he returns," suggested Jimmie.
"Let's get out of his way!" offered Harry. "We can beat him!"
"Not much!" argued Jimmie. "We don't have to run away! If he comes back again, I'm going to show him that he's monkeying with a buzz saw when he bothers us! If he can drop slugs like that, I can shoot!"
"Bloodthirsty again!" smiled Ned. "Would that be right, Jimmie?"
"Yes, sir!" stoutly maintained Jimmie. "We've got some rights!"
"Well, we won't have much cause to argue about it," Harry announced. "He's heading away off to the northeast and going fast."
"Probably heading for Berlin," suggested Jack. "Let him go!"
"If they leave us alone, we'll be there soon, ourselves!" Ned replied. "I don't think he ever intended to go to Lille at all!"
"I can beat him in a race!" boasted Jimmie. "What speed do you think we are making right now, without half trying?"
"Don't know, I'm sure," replied Ned, glancing over the side.
"Well, I can double that! Keep your eye on me! See me overhaul that railroad train down below us. It's a passenger or mail train."
"Yes, and it's going some!" Jack stated. "You'll have to hurry!"
Jimmie, in an endeavor to exhibit his skill with the machine, began urging it to greater speed. Up to this time the boys had not endeavored to secure speed, preferring to wait until the engine, so recently from the shop, had been given time to get "down to bearings."
They were expecting great things of the new motor, but were scarcely prepared for the burst of speed which Jimmie coaxed it to yield.
In a few moments they had overhauled the train and were speeding along a short distance ahead of it. Jimmie had brought the craft to a distance but little above the flying locomotive and its burden.
"See him try to beat us!" cried the lad, triumphantly.
"He never can do it," agreed Jack. "Besides, he'll have to slow up for the bridge across that river ahead. That puts him out of the race!"
"Here comes our friend again!" cried Francois, pointing.
"Well, of all things!" declared Jimmie. "He's got nerve!"
"Keep yours, and show him what a Wolf can do," advised Ned.
Nodding his acknowledgment, Jimmie began an ascent which he hoped would carry him above the approaching enemy. He was not quick enough, however, to execute this maneuver, and contented himself with flying directly ahead at an increased altitude. Unconsciously the boy still followed the line of the railroad as it approached the river ahead. The train had now been left a mile or more behind.
Anxiously watching the enemy, the boys observed that he was about to attempt to cross above them once more. More arrows were expected.
Harry had trained his glasses upon the approaching machine, and from time to time announced the movements of the pilot and his passenger.
"He's almost overhead now," reported the lad. "The passenger is trying to fix another batch of arrows, I believe! Get ready for him!"
Jimmie determined to execute a daring maneuver to throw the pursuer off his trail. Calling to the boys to secure themselves with safety belts, he buckled on his own, then gave the levers a touch.
With the first impulse of the engine the Grey Eagle leaped ahead. Jimmie threw his whole weight on the lever controlling the horizontal rudders, and the machine climbed up at an angle that threatened to unseat the passengers. Apparently his motive was to ram the other machine.
With a quick movement he threw off the power, altering the rudders at the same moment. The Grey Eagle began to drop backwards toward the earth. Again Jimmie manipulated a lever and the rudders guided the craft into a complete backward somersault that brought them some distance to the rear of the other. Gasping at the sudden movement the boys stared about.
A roar came to their ears from below. Mingled with a cloud of thick black smoke they could see pieces of timbers falling where once had been the railroad bridge. The missile had passed them, thanks to Jimmie.
"The train!" gasped Jimmie, with a startled look at his friends.
"They'll go right into that wrecked bridge!" gasped Jack, with horror. "Can't we head 'em off? Swing around, Jimmie, and flag 'em!"
"Sure," urged Harry excitedly. "Hurry! Hurry!"
Jimmie was already tugging desperately at the levers. He brought the Grey Eagle about so sharply that the machine careened to a most alarming angle, threatening to execute another upside down movement.
By throwing his weight sharply against the lever controlling the vanes, however, Jimmie avoided the completion of this reverse, and brought the machine again to its normal position. Heading back over the course they had so recently traveled, he brought the machine low down and skimmed along at a swift pace only a short distance above the track.
In plain view now, the onrushing train rushed madly along with its burden. Plainly the engine crew were doing their utmost to cover as much ground in as little time as lay within their power.
An immense cloud of black smoke was vomited from the stack, tossed upward by the sharp exhaust. It trailed like an ever-growing streamer, hiding the coaches from the view of our friends.
"How shall we stop them?" questioned Ned sharply. "We haven't a red flag nor anything with which to signal them."
"Swing 'em down!" suggested Harry eagerly. "They'll stop!"
"I don't know whether the French railroad men understand the signals used on United States roads or not!" Ned replied. "They're getting closer and we must do something!" he added.
"Land on the track and they'll stop!" proposed Jack.
"Sure!" put in Jimmie with sarcasm. "After they run over us!"
"What can we do?" Ned cried. "We must stop them!"
"Francois, what signal will these Frenchmen understand?" asked Jimmie. "Shall we swing 'em down, or have you anything to suggest?"
"Oh, I don't know," cried Francois. "I don't understand the railroad signals well enough to know what to do."
"I'll tell you what," Jimmie ventured, "I'll swing off to one side, round to quickly, and run alongside the locomotive. As we draw up alongside, you call out to the engineer to stop. He'll understand French. Get your lungs ready for a big whoop, there's lots of noise."
Francois began drawing deep breaths, preparing for the effort.
The Grey Eagle was veered away from the tracks to a distance considered by Jimmie suitable for his purpose, and again quickly wheeled about. This time the boys were prepared for the sharp deflection of the planes, and assisted by throwing their bodies to the outer side of the turn.
Slightly miscalculating the speed of the onrushing train, Jimmie brought the Grey Eagle parallel to its course at a point some two car lengths behind the locomotive. A quick touch of the throttle soon carried them out of the cloud of smoke and cinders abreast of the driver, who leaned from his position interestedly watching the maneuvers of the great aeroplane.
Scarcely a mile separated the group from the wrecked bridge. This distance was rapidly lessened by the swift iron monster.
"Hurry, now, Francois!" shouted Jimmie, again applying the muffler to deaden the sound of the Grey Eagle's motors. "Tell him!"
Francois' shouts were plainly heard by the engine driver, but he evidently mistook them for some friendly greeting, for he smiled and waved his hand, as if congratulating the boys on their skill.
Ned was frantic. He waved his arms and pointed down the track. Again the engineer responded with a wave of his hand. Seemingly he thought the boys were inviting him to a race, and was waving his acceptance.
"You big mud-head!" yelled Jimmie, at the top of his lungs. "Can't you get anything through that chunk of ivory? Shut her off!"
This sally was, of course, not intelligible to the engine driver, who could not be expected to understand English. The boy's manner, however, appeared to convey a meaning different from that of his companions. A change came over the face of the driver. He glanced down the track.
"Shut her off! Shut her off!" yelled Jimmie, again swinging one hand in the well-known horizontal sweep known to all railroad men in this country, indicating "Stop." Again and again Jimmie repeated the sign.
Ned, Harry and Jack, catching the inspiration of Jimmie's energetic action, joined in making the same signal. This concerted effort on the part of the boys evidently conveyed to the engine driver the thought that something was wrong. He looked questioningly at the lads.
"Shut her off!" again yelled Jimmie, desperately shaking his fist at the driver. "If I ever get hold of you, I'll punch your dome!"
Ned ceased making the stop sign and frantically pointed ahead. He then moved his hands as if picking something from his left with his right, in the familiar "Uncouple" movement of railroaders.
As if comprehending the "cut off" or "uncouple" signal, and at the same time comprehending that something was wrong with the track, the driver closed the throttle, looking down the line of rails ahead.
What he saw caused him to make desperate efforts to stop the onrushing monster. His efforts were rewarded by a distinct slackening of speed, but he was not a moment too soon.
Carried onward by the extreme momentum of its flight, the train crowded the locomotive forward, until it seemed to the anxious boys as if it surely must be plunged into the open bridge. Bravely the driver remained at his post until the locomotive actually dropped from the spread rails.
Not until his charge had bumped onto the ties and careened drunkenly to one side did the driver leap for safety. His fall on the ballasted track came only as the train ground to a standstill.
Again swinging the Grey Eagle in a quick turn, this time more easily and gracefully made, Jimmie brought the aeroplane to a landing beside the coaches. Men were dropping from the cars as the boys settled easily to a position of rest. They came running across the intervening space. They were in uniform and several carried rifles.
Taking in the entire situation at a glance, an officer stepped forward to greet the lads. With outstretched hand he greeted Ned, who stood a trifle in advance of his companions. He spoke in French.
Ned grasped the proffered hand heartily, but shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he stated, "but I cannot understand you."
"Pardon me," the officer hastened to say in English. "I did not notice that you are not of my country. I wish to thank you for the brave and honorable deed you have just done."
"Your gratitude is certainly appreciated," Ned answered, "but we scarcely deserve it. It was partly our fault that the bridge was wrecked. If we hadn't been over the railroad, the bomb would not have done that damage. We couldn't do any less than try to stop you."
"Nevertheless, we are all grateful for your act," continued the officer, "and I must also compliment you on your skill as a pilot. You handled the aeroplane with exceeding ease and adroitness."
"You'll have to give Jimmie, here, credit for that," Ned replied with a smile, as he proceeded to introduce his chums.
Protesting his inability to perform any feats out of the ordinary, Jimmie was dragged blushing to the foreground, where he was made to listen again to the complimentary remarks concerning his ability as an aviator.
"But come with me," invited the officer presently. "I wish you to meet the General. You are fortunate in finding him here at this time."
Making their way through the groups of soldiers gathered about, the boys arrived at a car much better appointed than the others. Here were grouped several officers surrounding a sturdily built man of medium height. His white hair and mustache gave a touch of dignity to the rounded face, while flashing eyes betokened the vigor that lurked in his well-knit frame, and indicated one of the secrets of his power with men. He was no less a person than General Joffre, pride of the French army.
Approaching to a respectful distance, the boys stood at attention and gave the Boy Scout salute. This was returned at once by the General, who used the same salute with dignity and gravity.
A few words spoken by the officer who had conducted the boys from their machine served to explain who they were.
"I wish to thank you, gentlemen," said the General. "You have, indeed, averted a catastrophe, and we are very grateful."
"Please do not mention it, sir!" Ned protested. "We felt that we could not do otherwise than stop your train, if possible."
"But how do you happen to be in this vicinity?"
In a few words, Ned briefly recounted the adventures through which they had passed but a short time previously. Leaving out many details, he gave only an outline of the incidents, concluding with:
"And here we are, and this wrecked bridge is the result of The Rat's latest attempt to put us out of his way."
"A most remarkable recital!" commented the General, after listening with interest to Ned's story. "You may be sure of our assistance in capturing this person, if it is at all possible."
"Thank you!" returned Ned heartily. "Now, perhaps, we have done all we can. I think we shall have to be going."
"Just a moment," protested the General. "Our men have already attached telegraph instruments to the wires and have, no doubt, reported this damage to the bridge. Will you not wait a short time until we learn what measures will be taken to move the train forward?"
To this the boys readily consented, and watched with interest the rapidity with which the men working the telegraph secured results.
Shortly an orderly approached, saluted, and handed a paper to the General. Reading the message rapidly, he turned again to the boys.
"It is impossible," he stated with a show of slight impatience in his voice, "to secure transportation for some hours. Traffic beyond the bridge is in a congested condition, and a repair train cannot reach us for some time. The delay, while annoying, is unavoidable. I shall again thank you, and wish you every success!"
Extending his hand, the General indicated that the interview was at an end. With hearty handclasps the boys departed for their aeroplane, leaving the soldiers grouped about the General.
Just as Ned was about to start the engine, Jimmie leaned over and placed a detaining hand on his arm. Ned glanced quickly at the boy.
"Say, fellows," suggested Jimmie. "If the General is in a hurry to go somewhere, he can't do better than take a trip with us. What do you say to inviting him to have a little ride?"
"We can carry him, all right," responded Ned, "but the quarters will be rather cramped. We haven't room to entertain many visitors."
"If we can stand it, he ought to get along for a while!"
"All right, then, go ask him if you want to," Ned grinned.
In an instant Jimmie was on the ground racing toward the train. Not many minutes passed before he was seen returning, accompanied by the General and the officer who had first greeted them.
To the rousing cheers of the soldiers, the Grey Eagle, with its precious freight, rose above the wreckage of the bridge. Headed to the northward, the boys and their guests were soon far from the scene.
"Where will you go, General?" asked Ned from the pilot's seat.
"Here comes that monoplane again!" interrupted Harry, who had been using the binoculars. "He's coming up fast from the eastward!"
"Then he's going to get what's coming to him!" gritted Jimmie, unlocking a compartment and drawing forth a magazine rifle.
It was true. The monoplane was again darting toward the Grey Eagle, as if vindictively determined to bring harm to the lads.
As it approached a shot rang out. Jimmie quickly threw his rifle to his shoulder and replied with shot after shot.
A sharp lurch of the other machine told the boys that one of Jimmie's missiles had found lodgment in a vital place. Plunging down in a forward movement the machine appeared to drop straight to earth.
"The Rat is there!" cried Harry, with the glasses in hand. "He's taking the levers away from the wounded pilot! He can't right the machine!"
Straight toward the earth, like a hawk darting for its prey, fell the monoplane, carrying the wounded pilot and The Rat.
In fancy the boys pictured the terrible scene soon to be witnessed at the spot where the craft should fall with its human freight. Jimmie, horrified to think that his act should have caused the loss of two men's lives, turned to replace the rifle, anxious to get the weapon with which the attack had been repulsed out of his grasp.
Even the General, experienced to scenes of unusual gruesomeness as he was, turned his head aside, not caring to witness the end.
All were startled to activity and attention by Harry's shout.
"Look, look!" cried the lad, who had followed with the glasses the descent of their enemy. "Look, he's made it! Oh, I'm glad!"
"What?" Ned asked, his attention having been directed toward bringing the Grey Eagle to a position near the expected event.
"The Rat must have succeeded in getting control of the craft just in time," explained Harry. "Just as I thought it would plunge to the earth the forward rudders caught the air, and instead of diving head first into the ground, the machine took a sudden swoop and skimmed away as nicely as you please! That was simply wonderful!"
Sighs of relief escaped the lads involuntarily as this news was announced. Much as The Rat deserved punishment for his misdeeds, none of the boys cared to be directly responsible for his sudden demise in such a horrible form. They preferred turning him over to the proper authorities where he might be properly dealt with.
"I guess he's going to have his hands full now," suggested Ned musingly. "Possibly we'd better get out of here as quickly as we can. The General will want to arrive at his destination without delay."
"Sure enough!" Jimmie asserted. "Where will you go, General?"
"My intended destination," replied the General, "is an aviation center not far from here in the direction of Lille. There many aeroplanes are being received from the factories for testing, and used in the instruction of pilots for military purposes. If you will be kind enough to give me passage to that point, I shall be very grateful."
"Certainly we will," quickly responded Ned. "Can you give me the directions?" he continued. "We will make up some lost time."
"I think if you steer about northeast or northeast by north," suggested the General, "we shall soon see the place."
"Sorry, sir," apologized Ned, "but the chap in the other machine dropped some darts a few minutes ago and wrecked our compass. I can steer only approximately on any course. Would you recognize landmarks?"
"Possibly," rejoined the General. "However, it is now about seven o'clock. The sun, there, is about east by south, so we can get a course from that. If you steer for a hill or group of trees until nearly above them, and then select some other prominent point in the landscape and steer for that, we shall shortly arrive close enough to the destination so that we can see some of the numerous aviators in their practice work."
"That's a good idea!" Ned acknowledged. "I shall do that, and shall hurry along a little. Possibly we may shake off The Rat."
Never had the boys felt the sense of pride in their aeroplane that they did that day. The engine, designed by Harry and his chums, proved to be all that they had expected. Running with muffler closed, Ned sent the plane along at a terrific pace. Above the whistling of the wind the hum of the motor was not distinguishable, and conversation could be carried on with comparative ease. Without a tremor the great machine covered mile after mile with a grace and speed that excited the frank admiration of their two guests. It was a ride to be remembered.
"We need several machines like this!" exclaimed General Joffre, lost in wonderment at the behavior of the craft. "Will you tell me what make it is? The design is one not familiar to me."
"It is a design familiar to nobody," Ned smiled, "except we four boys. It is a machine constructed by us from our own designs."
"I am astonished!" confessed the General. "It is wonderful to observe how easily it handles and how rapid its movements. Will you tell me what make of engine you are using?"
"It is an engine designed specially for us by McGraw, Bosworth, Stevens and Nestor, a United States concern!" laughed Ned. "You see," he went on, "when the plane had been thought of, we believed we needed an engine suitable for a craft of so high a character. We couldn't find what we wanted in any store, nor was it manufactured. We just had to make plans and have it built in the automobile factory belonging to Harry's father. They did a pretty good job for us, too!"
To this statement the General heartily assented, expressing freely his admiration for the entire craft and its appointments.
"Unless I am mistaken," presently declared the General, who had been dividing his attention between admiration of the Grey Eagle and the landscape, "we are approaching the vicinity of the place I mentioned. That range of hills ahead should be the last before we reach the plain where the aviation instructors are at work."
"Hurrah!" shouted Jimmie. "Now we'll see some real flying! I've always wanted to see the French aviators. Maybe I can get a few pointers by watching them. I understand they're among the very best."
"Yes," admitted the General, "I can honestly say that we have some very skillful and daring men in the aviation corps. You may remember it was a Frenchman who first succeeded in crossing the English channel in an aircraft. Their exploits are many and of noble character."
"It's funny how The Rat got a French chauffeur to help him out!" mused Jimmie. "I thought the Frenchmen as a rule were more honest."
"Possibly misrepresentations were made," suggested Ned. "You know The Rat wouldn't be above lying a little!"
"That's so," assented Jimmie. "By the way," he added, "where did The Rat go? We left in such a hurry I never noticed."
"He made a landing," Harry answered. "I saw him come easily to earth, and then I lost sight of him as we put on speed. We've lost him!"
"Well, I certainly hope so!" emphatically declared Jimmie. "The next time we see him I hope it will be through a prison grating!"
"You will probably not have the opportunity of seeing your enemy for some little time," commented their guest. "He is no doubt by this time well on his way towards Flanders!"
"Flanders?" mused Jimmie. "I don't recall any such town as that. I'm not very well posted on the geography of France, though."
"Flanders is a country, not a town," kindly corrected the General. "It is a name used to designate the country called Belgium."
"Oh, I know where that is!" declared Jimmie at once. "That is between France and Germany, isn't it? They stopped the Germans!"
"Yes," sadly replied his informant, "they checked the German advance, but at fearful cost to themselves. It was done in an endeavor to protect their neutrality. The first encounter occurred at Liege."
"Another case of demanding peace, even at the expense of a fight!" put in Jack. "That's Jimmie's creed!" he added.
"Why do they call the country 'Flanders'?" asked Jimmie.
"'Flanders,'" replied the other, "is a name derived from an old nickname or appellation for the people who inhabited that section. For a long time the people who lived there were known as 'Fleed-men,' or men who had escaped from other countries. The name gradually was turned into the present form of 'Flemish,' and the country known as "Flanders'."
"Then the people are made up of contributions from other nations?" inquired Jimmie, very much interested. "They were all mixed up?"
"Yes," was the answer, "but many, many years have passed, and gradually there has grown up a distinct nation. Of course, the country, because of its peculiar position, has long been the scene of international fighting. It is said that Caesar and his legions had battle there with the original inhabitants, called the Nervii. Many a battle has been fought at different times on Flemish territory."
"Isn't the battleground of Waterloo where Napoleon met defeat, located in Flanders?" asked Ned, recalling his history.
"It is," replied their guest, "and also other famous battlegrounds. For many years Flanders has been the scene of much warfare."
"Do they talk English there?" questioned Jimmie eagerly.
"The people speak French, German or Flemish in different sections," was the answer. "English is not commonly used. The people cling tenaciously to their language, customs and superstitions. It is in that section," continued their informant, "where so many fairy tales originated. The inhabitants largely hold firm faith in the existence and activities of sprites, witches, fairies and hobgoblins of all sorts. With their other primitive ideas, they also hold to the cardinal virtues of honesty, sobriety and industry. Nowhere, except possibly in Holland, will you find a more industrious and worthy class of people."
"It seems too bad to have good folks like those shot up by the Germans, just because they wanted to go across the country!" protested Jimmie. "Couldn't Germany have gone around some other way?"
A faint smile greeted this characteristic remark.
"Possibly," agreed the other, "but it seems the more direct route was chosen. It is regrettable, of course, but, for that matter, the whole war is regrettable. It brings good to no one."
"I agree with you!" quickly responded the boy. "It's no good!"
"Sail—Ho!" cried Harry, who had been industriously using the binoculars while listening to the conversation. "I see an aeroplane!"
"Where away?" asked Ned, scanning the horizon eagerly.
"Almost dead ahead," replied Harry. "Just a little to the left and above that hill. It is just above the trees."
"I see it!" declared Ned. "I can't make out what it is like, though. It looks something like a biplane, but I'm not sure."
"That's what it is!" asserted Harry. "You've got good eyes!"
"Maybe it's some fellow from the aviation camp out for a trial run or else breaking in a new pilot," suggested Jimmie.
"If that's the case," Jack put in, "we are near the place. I'm glad of that! I'm interested in the idea of seeing the French craft."
"Keep your eyes open, then," advised Harry. "It looks as if we were going to cross the hill in a minute, and then we'll know!"
"I see them!" shouted Jack in a short time. "I see a lot of them! Oh-h-h!" exclaimed the boy excitedly, "there must be fifty machines, and all in the air at once! It looks like a beehive!"
"Just see those hangars!" was Ned's excited comment. "There must be nearly a hundred of them!" he continued in an awed tone.
"Not quite a hundred," laughed the General, "but there are quite a number. More machines are arriving daily, while others are either broken in practice or are sent away for duty at the front."
Admiringly the boys gazed at the inspiring spectacle of so great a number of aeroplanes in the air at one time. Their interest knew no bounds. Here was an opportunity for gaining much information.
All too soon was the Grey Eagle in the vicinity of the camp. Its coming was detected by some of the air scouts almost as quickly as the camp had been located by the boys. Several at once advanced and hovered near, in an effort to learn the identity of the visitor.
Proceeding directly to a spot indicated by the General, Ned brought the machine gracefully and easily to the ground. A group of aviators and officers quickly surrounded them and assisted the passengers to alight. Recognizing the General, they set up a hearty cheer.
Turning to an officer in his immediate vicinity, the General spent several minutes in animated conversation. Apparently he was questioning that individual closely concerning important matters.
At length he turned to the boys with a smile on his face.
"You may rest easy on one score, at least," he said. "Your friend, The Rat, made his way into Flanders about half an hour ago!"
"How do you know?" asked Jimmie incredulously.
"My information comes from the officer, here," replied the General, with a smile at the boy's pertinent query. "He states that an observer near the boundary reports by telephone that a monoplane resembling that used by The Rat was seen crossing to the eastward only a few minutes previous to our arrival here. He was traveling high and rapidly."
"In that case, we'd better get going ourselves," urged Jack.
"But I want to stay here a while and watch these French airmen," Jimmie objected. "Besides, it wouldn't be polite to go away so soon. The General hasn't had a chance to ask us to lunch," he added, with a wink at Ned who was standing near.
"Same old cold, I suppose," protested Jack. "You had a lunch only a few hours ago, and now you're hungry again! What's the matter?"
"Hunger seems to be an affliction from which Jimmie always suffers," laughed Ned. "I'm sure I don't know what to do!"
"That's not an affliction," maintained Jimmie, joining in the spirit of the chaffing, "that's what they call a disease!"
"It's chronic, whatever you call it!" asserted Harry.
"Well, it's a mighty good thing you fellows have me to be your alarm clock, anyhow!" stoutly returned Jimmie. "If it wasn't for me to remind you once in awhile, you'd forget to eat. I'm useful!"
Laughingly giving instructions that the boys should be well supplied with breakfast, the General asked to be excused for a short time. He at once retired, in company with the officer who seemed to be in command of the camp, to a building set apart for office purposes.
The boys walked about, under the guidance of a non-commissioned officer who had been detailed for the purpose, inspecting the new aeroplanes arriving in cases from the factory, those already assembled, and a number which had been tested. They saw several machines which had been badly damaged, some by reason of defects and others by unskillful handling by novices. A number of aspiring candidates were being given practical instruction in aviation by experienced men. None of the recruits were permitted to take charge of a machine until after several flights had been made in company with their instructors. Then they were given charge of a machine and permitted to make their first flight unaccompanied. Jimmie declared that his fingers itched to have charge of one of the larger machines intended for attack. The small scouting machines did not interest him.
The large planes were built with space for mounting a machine gun, with room for its operator and a supply of ammunition. Above the gunner's seat the pilot was located, where he could get an excellent view of his surroundings and direct the craft as desired by the gunner.
A bugle call attracted their attention. Their guide announced, through Francois, who acted as interpreter, that lunch was ready.
"I declare, I nearly forgot I was hungry!" asserted Jimmie.
"It's mighty interesting!" agreed Ned. "But I don't think they have anything the better of our little old Grey Eagle, when it comes to ease of handling and speed. We can show any of them a clean pair of heels when that engine gets nicely smoothed up!"
"Right you are, Scout!" Jimmie returned vigorously. "And they haven't any of them got anything on me when it comes to eating! Advance, Comrades!" he continued with a laugh. "Let us attack the cold cure!"
Before the boys had devoured the splendid luncheon provided for them under the direction of the commander, they were again visited by their recent passenger. He had been very busy during the short interval and, as the boys later learned, had gotten in touch with the entire battle front by means of telegraph and telephone. Orders had been issued with whirlwind promptness, and information received, to be glanced at only once ere it was safely stored in the master mind.
Long after their visit the boys learned to value the ability of the man whom all France was depending upon to bring her out of the terrible crisis in which she was then placed.
After inquiring if their wants had been properly supplied, the General approached Ned on a subject that the lad had anticipated would be mentioned. It was one that he dreaded.
Seating himself at Ned's invitation, the General began:
"What do you think of our little camp by this time?"
"It is great!" heartily responded Ned. "I like it!"
"And the principle, is it not a correct one?"
"I think so," replied the lad. "I believe it is a grand idea to teach the men everything possible about the matter before sending them out on the firing line. Do they seem to learn readily?"
"Yes," was the answer, "but we are in need of one thing. We must have more instructors! There are not enough men who can teach!"
What Ned dreaded he saw all too plainly was coming.
"Do you not perceive our need of men?" continued his questioner.
"Yes, sir, I can," returned Ned. Then, as if determined to meet the issue squarely, he went on, looking straight into the other's face:
"If it were not for the fact that we are citizens of the United States and, therefore, neutral, I would be delighted to offer my services in any way they might be used. We are on a mission that requires our time and utmost energy, however, and it would be out of the question for us even to think of such a possibility."
For just a moment no answer was made. The two sat gazing silently across the table. At length the General spoke in a lower tone:
"You are right, my lad! Loyalty to your country and her needs should always be your first consideration. Let principle be of far greater moment than any pecuniary gain, and you cannot go far wrong!"
So saying he arose and extended his hand to Ned. In that firm clasp Ned detected the emotion that swept over this master of men, who carried the responsibility of a nation at that moment on his shoulders.
Long afterward he declared that one of the proudest moments of his life was the one in which he and Joffre clasped hands across the table in the aviation camp. From that time his efforts to instil into the minds of his comrades ideas of patriotism and loyalty increased.
After giving instructions that the boys should be well cared for during such time as they wished to remain, the General prepared to go about his duties. As he was leaving, Ned asked:
"We feel that we must continue our chase of The Rat and try to prevent his selling the plans to any other nation. He is, no doubt, on his way to Berlin, and we ought to follow. Can you give us a pass to go through or over your lines with the Grey Eagle?"
"That is impossible," returned the other. "No one but the regular aviators are permitted to do that, and then only under orders. If, however, you should make such a move without my knowledge or consent, I could not prevent it. The men in the trenches will have orders not to fire on any aeroplane like the Grey Eagle if a white cross is painted on the lower side of the planes. There is plenty of white paint here."
Expressing their sincere thanks, the boys left the General and proceeded to their sightseeing. Jimmie was very anxious to find the paint pot and brush, declaring he could take a hint easily. This was easily arranged, and in a short time two large white crosses were on the lower side of the Grey Eagle's planes, where they could be easily seen.
"You have quite a machine there," politely suggested a pilot.
"Thank you," replied Ned, with Francois interpreting.
"Perhaps it is quite swift?" continued the other.
Ned shrugged his shoulders. He did not wish to boast.
"I believe my monoplane is able to travel faster," stated the other. "I am a firm believer in the merits of a monoplane!"
"Possibly," replied Ned, a little nettled at the fellow's insistence. "We are satisfied. Our machine carries a heavy load."
"What do you say to a little race?" questioned the pilot.
"What shall we do, boys?" queried Ned, turning to his companions. "Shall we keep still and let him have his own way or not?"
"I should say not!" vociferated Jimmie, bridling at once. "If you let him get away with anything like that, he'll take the whole house next! I say we'd better show him a trick or two. We can do it!"
"Maybe not," cautioned Jack. "These fellows are pretty smooth!"
"They haven't got anything on the little old Grey Eagle when it comes to getting out of the road. Some day I'll show you!"
"Well, I vote we show this gentleman right now!" urged Harry.
It was accordingly agreed that a trial race was to be run between the machine owned by the boys and that of the French pilot. Quickly the news went round the camp, and by the time preparations had been made everyone was keenly alert. The boys went carefully over every part of their machine, examining every guy and fastening.
At last the Grey Eagle was pronounced ready, and final instructions were given as to the course. It was agreed that as a test of all the qualities necessary in a machine a message should be carried to an outpost on the firing line not many miles to the eastward. An officer there would give a receipt for the message, and the return of the receipt to the camp would determine which machine was the winner.
"Be careful, boys," cautioned Francois. "I think the pilot is telephoning to a friend of his to have a receipt ready written and put up on a hoop on a long pole, after the manner of your American train order deliveries. He can then drop his message, pick up the receipt, and beat you without being required to land at all!"
"Did you hear him telephoning?" asked Jimmie indignantly.
"Just now!" replied Francois. "He has but just left the booth!"
"Then we'll fix him!" declared Jimmie. "I'll report him!"
"Please do not!" begged Francois. "It would only make trouble!"
"In that case, Ned, we've got to beat this fellow by some few minutes. He's going to try to win the race by a trick!"
"Evidently we've got him scared!" laughed Ned.
"It looks that way, surely!" agreed Jimmie.
After receiving explicit instructions regarding the location of the point where the messages were to be delivered, the boys mounted their machine. Ned followed the example of the Frenchman, and warmed his engine well before announcing that he was ready.
Several had advised Ned to remove some weight from his craft before starting, and also strongly advised against carrying four passengers. To these objections, however, Ned returned but one answer. He had agreed to run the race in ordinary condition, and he would not now retreat.
At a pistol shot, fired as the starting signal, both machines seemed to leap into the air. Ned had opened the muffler for the start, and Jimmie declared afterward that a stream of fire a mile long burst from the exhaust pipe. The roar of the Grey Eagle's motor completely drowned out the noise of the monoplane. In a short time the camp had been left far in the rear. The Grey Eagle easily took the lead and steadily gained on the rival air craft, in spite of the Frenchman's best efforts. He was using every trick and device of which he was master.
Soon Harry, who had been using the binoculars constantly, announced that he could see a group of men standing in a field, evidently watching for the coming of the machines. They were grouped near some trees.
Ned prepared to make a quick landing. He saw, however, upon nearing the ground that the spot did not offer suitable advantages and rose again. Continuing over a slight wooded rise, he found an open space which seemed satisfactory. Here he made an excellent landing.
"Stay where you are," he cried, springing to the ground. "I'll run back through these trees and get a receipt for the message."
"That will give the monoplane an advantage!" cried Jimmie. "They picked that poor landing spot because he doesn't have to stop!"
"That's some trick, I must say!" chimed in Harry.
Ned ran rapidly back toward the group of men. He could see the monoplane descending and noted the preparations for delivery of the receipt.
"Halt!" a voice commanded, coming from the ground at Ned's feet.