Part 21 (1/2)
”I hear them. It can't be that they're firing at random in the air, as they would be more likely to hit one another than a slim and single little shape like the Arrow.”
”They're signaling. Of course they're organized, and they're probably trying to draw all the planes to one spot, after which they'll spread out and seek us. But they won't find us. Ah, my sleek Arrow! my lovely little Arrow, so fast and true! You've done your duty tonight and more!
We've run the gantlet, John! We're through their air fleet, and we've left a trail of fire! They won't forget this night!”
John sat silent, while Lannes exulted. Meanwhile the Arrow, piercing the low clouds, rushed westward, unpursued.
CHAPTER VIII
THE FRENCH DEFENSE
They flew on in the darkness, and both remained silent. John at first had felt resentment against Lannes, but he reflected that this was war, and it was no worse to kill with a bomb in the air than with a sh.e.l.l on land. It was hard, however, to convince oneself that destruction and death were sovereigns in Europe.
After a long time Lannes pointed to the east, where a thin gray was showing.
”The sun will soon be up,” he said, ”and it will drive the last cloud before it. We're going to have a fine day. Look down at this, our France, Monsieur Jean the Scott, and see what a beautiful land it is!
Can you wonder that we don't want the armed feet of the Germans to tread it down?”
The darkness was shredding away so fast that John got a clear view. He was surprised, too, to find how low they were flying. They were not more than a hundred yards above the tops of the trees, and the glorious country was all that Lannes had claimed for it.
He saw woods heavy in foliage, fields checkered in green and brown, white roads, neat villages and farm houses, and the spires of churches.
It seemed impossible that war should come upon such a land. This word ”impossible” was often recurring to John. It was impossible that all Europe should go to war and yet the impossible was happening. The world would not allow twenty million men to spring at one another's throats, and yet they were doing it.
Lannes suddenly uttered a deep ”Ah!” and pointed with a long forefinger.
”Our camp,” he said. ”On the hill about five miles to the left. The planes have seen us. Three are coming to meet us.”
John saw the camp distinctly through the gla.s.ses, a long intrenched position on a low, broad hill, many guns in front and many horses in the rear, with the banners of France floating over the works.
”We'll be there soon,” said Lannes joyfully. ”Here, John, wave this!”
He took a small French flag from the locker and John waved it with vigor. The fastest of the planes was soon beside them and Lannes called out gayly:
”The Arrow, Philip Lannes at the rudder, and John Scott, an American, who is going to fight with us, as pa.s.senger and comrade!”
Thus they flew into the republican camp, and a great crowd came forward to meet them. Lannes stepped out of the Arrow, saluted an officer in the uniform of a captain, and asked:
”What corps is this?”
”That of General Avillon.”
”Then, sir, would you be so good as to conduct me to his headquarters? I have been in both Berlin and Vienna in disguise, and on service for our government. I have information and minute maps.”
”Come with me at once,” said the officer eagerly.
”I ask you to make my comrade comfortable while I am gone. He is an American, John Scott, whom an accident threw with me. He is the bravest of the brave and he's going to serve with us.”
Lannes was dramatic and impressive. Again he was the center of a scene that he loved, and, as always, he made the most of it. John reddened at his high praise, and would have withdrawn farther into the crowd, but enthusiastic young officers about him would not let him. ”Vive l'Americain!” they shouted and patted him on the shoulders.