Air Service Boys Flying for France/Chapter 24
CHAPTER XXIV
IN GREAT LUCK
With wildly throbbing hearts both Tom and Jack peered downward as they once more resumed their voyage on a level. Dawn had come to the earth below. They could make out the character of the ground, and see a road which ran in a zigzag fashion. Tom noticed this in particular because it was probable that a house would be discovered close to a thoroughfare; and they must come upon such a place if they hoped to secure the necessary supply of gasolene.
It was a slender hope that was held out to them. Tom knew how precious the explosive liquid had become in all Germany and Austria, so that few if any private cars were running, the Government having commandeered every available gallon. Still, there might be a chance of their coming on some car, whether connected with the military forces or not, and transferring the contents of its tank to their own.
The country seemed none too thickly populated. There were patches of forest, too, something hard to find in Northern France, where for almost three years the ravages of modern warfare had told heavily on woods and orchards.
Tom changed his plans. Instead of looking for a house he meant to find a car either on that road or else laid up somewhere, from which they might get the gasolene so necessary for their deliverance.
Looking ahead he saw something moving. A second glance told him it was what he was most desirious of discovering. It was a car, and heading in the same general direction as themselves.
Tom instantly made up his mind that his course was clear. He would drop down with a rush, and chase after that fleeing car. It would be easy enough to overtake it, and perhaps if they used the rapid-fire gun a few rounds the driver would draw up and surrender.
No sooner had he conceived this rather desperate plan then he commenced once more to volplane toward the earth. He had a glimpse of a man's face thrust out from the side of the car, which had started on at wild speed, as if the driver realized that the monster plane was swooping particularly at him, with some object in view.
"Be ready to use the gun, Jack!" yelled the pilot. "When I give the sign fire at his rear tires if you can. That man has what we want, and we've just got to take it from him. Understand?"
"Sure!" shouted Jack, changing his position in order to be ready to carry out his orders.
The car was bouncing along the road at a mad rate, but this seemed nothing in comparison with the speed with which the plane came on. Tom slowed up when he believed they were close enough. He left the rest to his comrade, knowing full well that Jack had shown considerable proficiency in using the rapid-fire gun when they were training at the French military field, and while engaging that Boche pilot more recently.
It was not an easy target—that moving car, plunging from side to side of the winding road, partly through accident, or it might be from fear on the part of the driver that he was about to be bombarded.
Keeping his gun low enough not to spatter the upper part of the car, Jack fired. With the "chatter" of the gun the bullets commenced to splash like hail around the rear tires of the speeding car. Jack kept shooting low. He was in deadly fear lest by some mischance he puncture the petrol tank of the automobile. And even though they wrecked the car of what avail would their victory be if in the end they found only an empty reservoir?
Tom could see ahead a short distance. He kept a keen lookout, for after they had stopped the car it would be necessary for them to make a successful landing; and he knew full well what difficulties must then confront him as the pilot. Any sort of accident, and it would be all over with them. Either they would be killed, or at the best find themselves prisoners of the Boches.
Jack now began to get his range better. All the while they were hovering about the height of an ordinary house above the fleeing car, and keeping somewhat in the rear. It was certainly the queerest pursuit that any one could well imagine, and no wonder the man who was trying his best to escape believed his last hour had come.
Then one of the missiles accomplished its work, and a tire went flat.
The car zigzagged worse than ever, and its speed was cut down. The pilot managed to guide the machine, however, and keep it on the road until the speed was very low; and then it wsnt into the ditch with a crash.
The car was a wreck. As to the condition of the driver the air service boys at first knew little, as they could only catch a fleeting glimpse of him as they shot past. But he seemed to be doubled up in the wreckage as though more or less severely injured.
Tom had seen the very place he needed for making his landing. It was an open field, and pasture land at that, so he hoped to find if fairly level.
Being accomplished at landing, Tom succeeded in bringing the big Caudron down without the slightest accident. Then both young aviators jumped out, though Jack immediately fell forward on his face, his cramped limbs doubling up under him.
"We must hurry!" Tom cried, even while running back toward the stalled car. "Someone may come along the road, perhaps troops in the bargain, and then we would be in a fine pickle."
"Do you think he was killed, Tom?" gasped Jack, a bit awed by the tragic result of his gunfire.
"Hardly as bad as that! He's slowed down a lot before the crash came, you noticed. But I certainly do hope he's got a couple of gallons of stuff in that tank of his."
"And as for me," mumbled the other tagging just behind his leader, "I'm praying that I didn't puncture the tank, with all my shooting. I kept the fire low on purpose."
"We'll soon know, for here's the car close at hand!" snapped Tom.
It gave both of them a strange feeling to see the wrecked car at the side of the road, and realize that they were wholly responsible for it. But since coming to the front they had been in contact with so many things associated with war's horrors that the young American aviators had by degrees come to steel their hearts against any display of weakness.
Jack hurried around to the rear. His one thought was to learn whether his fears could be well grounded. If by any ill luck he had managed to hit the tank containing the liquid of which they stood in such need, of what avail would all this chase be?
Tom on his part turned to take a look at the man inside. There would be no time to spare to try to mend his wounds, but something seemed to draw him forward as with invisible cords. Afterwards Tom often asked himself how he could have attempted to struggle against this magnet that was causing him to pay attention to the man, when by rights all his thoughts should have been given to securing what they had come after.
He heard Jack give a yell of delight, and caught the words:
"It's all right, Tom! Never hurt the tank in the least! And, say, I guess we're in great luck, because there are fully three gallons in it!"
Tom heard these exclamations, but they seemed to beat in his ears faintly. There was a reason for his attention being riveted in another quarter.
A strange thing had come to pass. He had arrived at the front of the wrecked car and leaned over the better to see within. After striking a small tree and cutting it clean off the heavy car had itself doubled up, so that it could never again be of any use save for the scrap heap. Such a blow was likely to give the occupant a severe jolt. Tom anticipated finding that the man had received bruises in plenty, and perhaps might also be suffering from a broken arm.
He thought he heard a perceptible groan as he came up, though the outcries from Jack rather put a damper on all other sounds. The leather covers had broken loose from the shock of the collision, and were flapping in the breeze. Tom put out his hand to drag them aside so that he might have an unobstructed view of the interior. Just then a white face was protruded from within.
Tom started as though he could not believe his eyes. It was uncanny—such a meeting, and under dramatic conditions at that! For the face was that of the one man in all Germany whom he wanted to run across—no other than Adolph Tuessig, the spy who had robbed his father of his priceless invention, the secret of an airplane stabilizer!