Part 17 (1/2)
”Don't wait,” he continued, as he unscrewed the cap of the petrol tank and produced the dispatch. ”Take this, and hurry on. I'll patch this up and follow. If you can, wait for me at Cortenaeken till two o'clock.”
”Right-o!” a.s.sented Rollo. ”You can manage all right?”
”I can't ask you to bear a hand if I don't,” replied Kenneth. ”I'll make a job of it somehow. Good luck!”
Rollo was off. Kenneth stood beside his crippled steed and watched his friend's receding figure out of sight; then taking out his repair outfit he began his task. It was a long job. The cover, being practically a new one, was an obstinate one to remove. It had to be patched with canvas, while the double puncture in the inner tube took a considerable time to clean and prepare.
While he was waiting for the solution to get ”tacky”, a peculiar buzzing sound greeted his ears.
”Aeroplanes!” he muttered. ”Whose, I wonder?”
He looked upwards. The sun s.h.i.+ning in a cloudless sky dazzled his vision. He put on his tinted goggles, which during the repair operations he had removed. Then he saw, perhaps three thousand feet above him, a large Zeppelin moving in a westerly direction. He watched it with a sort of contemptuous interest.
”The vaunted German terror of the air--perhaps!” he soliloquized. ”I wouldn't give much for its chances if even half a dozen aeroplanes tackled it. Ah! Thinking better of it?”
This last remark was uttered as the gigantic airs.h.i.+p began to turn, pitching as it did so like a lively s.h.i.+p in a sea-way.
Bringing his binoculars to bear upon the Zeppelin, Kenneth watched its undignified progress. Apparently it had encountered a strong air-current that tended to drive it in a westerly direction. By the aid of the gla.s.ses Kenneth could see that the immense fabric showed, in spite of its supposed rigidity, a decided tendency to ”whip” as it swung broadside on to the direction of the wind. Then, steadying itself on a course in exactly the opposite direction to that which it had previously been following, the Zeppelin forged ahead, still see-sawing ominously.
Suddenly the bow portion dipped, then with ever-increasing velocity the huge airs.h.i.+p plunged earthwards. Its propeller ceased to revolve; from the cars, ballast--not loose sand, but solid material--was thrown out in the hope of checking the now terrific descent. Then it disappeared from the motor-cyclist's view, beyond a slight ridge of hills about five miles off.
”That's done for it, thank goodness!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Kenneth, as he replaced his binoculars and reapplied himself to the repairs to the tyre; ”if it were not for this rotten puncture I'd slip over and have a look at the remains. I hope the thing's fallen within the Belgian lines. It will cheer the plucky beggars up a bit.”
It took him quite another half-hour to patch the torn canvas and coax the stubborn cover back into its rim. Then, with a feeling of gratification that he had overcome difficulties, he began to inflate the tyre.
”Almost hard enough,” he said to himself, ceasing his efforts to prod the rubber with his thumb. ”I'll give it another dozen strokes just to show there's no ill-feeling.”
Bang! With a report like the discharge of a small field-piece the tyre collapsed. A portion of the inner tube had been nipped, with the result that a gash four inches in length was demanding attention.
”Confound it!” exclaimed Kenneth angrily.
With the perspiration pouring off him, he again tackled the obstinate cover with savage energy. This time the repair was a complicated one.
Three times the patch failed to hold, but finally, at the end of an hour and a half's hard work, the tedious task was accomplished.
At Tirlemont Kenneth made enquiries, and was given such minute directions that before he had gone another five miles he was hopelessly befogged. The roads were little better than narrow lanes; there were no direction posts, and he had long forgotten whether he had to take the first turning to the left and the third to the right, or the third to the left and the first to the right. There were several isolated cottages, but their inhabitants had fled. The whole district seemed depopulated, for the great exodus to Brussels had begun. There was plenty of evidence of the hurried flight of the civil population.
Articles of domestic use, found to be too heavy to carry far, had been jettisoned by the roadside. Here and there was an abandoned cart, still laden with the household goods of some unfortunate Belgian family.
At length Kenneth found that the lane he was following came upon a small stream. Here a bridge had recently been destroyed. Further progress in that direction was impossible, unless he decided to abandon his cycle and swim across the fifteen feet of water to the opposite bank. Following the stream was a rough path, badly cut up by the tracks of cattle. It was the only possible way unless he retraced his route.
Producing his military map Kenneth attempted to fix his position. He could only come to the conclusion that the stream was the River Velp, on which the hamlet of Cortenaeken stands. He was, he decided, about ten miles from the village, which ought to be reached by following the path he had struck.
It was bad going. The deep ruts made riding a nerve-racking ordeal.
Here and there the path had slipped bodily into the reed-grown mud that fringed the stream. Dismounts were frequent; speed was out of the question.
After a mile or so of this unsatisfactory mode of progression the path ended abruptly, but here the stream was crossed by a narrow plank bridge. On the opposite side, at about two hundred yards from the bank, was a cottage, and--thanks be!--from the chimney a wreath of faint blue smoke was rising.
Kenneth dismounted, set his motor-cycle on its stand, and proceeded to examine the apparently frail bridge. It sagged considerably under his weight; what would it do with the additional weight of his mount? In addition there was the transport problem. He could not carry the heavy cycle; the plank was too narrow for him to attempt to ride across. Yet he did not feel at all inclined to go back along that rutty path.