Part 26 (2/2)
”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 pa.s.s, 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 cla.s.s 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 gra.s.s and leaves for a little while.”
”Then while you rest I'll keep an outlook and when I'm tired you can relieve me.”
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