Our Pilots in the Air | Page 7

see they've dragged the Archies out and are
stuffing in sheaves of bullets?"
"All right!" called Erwin, now spiraling higher, higher, climbing
cloudward. "Sure you got the Taube straight -- hey, Lafe?"
"Course I have! Didn't I work one of them at --?" But the name was lost
to Orris as the distance increased.
To Blaine's relief the Boche did not move for a moment or two. This
gave him time to twist that free arm back where Lafe could press the
weight of one big foot thereon, and also complete the adjustment of the
cord. He arranged it by looping twice round the cleat, the length
reaching to Fritz's throat being drawn taut. Moreover, as the German's
body was resting sidewise upon his other arm, still tightly bound,
Blaine felt that he had the man for the time being at least.
Now came heavier roars from below. Not only one gun but several had
been brought up, trained on the fliers and were being fired rapidly at
the receding airplanes.
Also the true nature of the situation aloft must have been divined.
Hence the extreme activity among the Germans, now trying desperately
to reverse the progress of events by bringing one or both machines
down. The fact that the life of one of their own comrades might be
snuffed out did not weigh with them at all. Such is the German
militaristic creed. The individual, his life, or welfare is as nothing when
compared with the welfare of the cause, the state, the whole brutal,

efficient system.
After all, this comrade might be dead now. They must get at and, if
possible, overtake these schwein at all cost. Were not they retreating
with a choice Prussian machine, that even now flaunted in derision the
Death's Head Flag?
No wonder the Boches were mad -- good mad!
But our Yankee adventurers were by no means at the end of their raid.
The sun was rising. With the rare promise of a clear day, considering
the time and the region, it was more evident than usual that a very high
altitude must be reached and maintained.
There were the German trenches to be passed, the trenches raided only
a few hours before, the No-Man's-Land, before the welcoming shelter
of friendly areas and support might be reached. At any rate, they could
see and signal other and also keep close together and be ready to afford
mutual support in case of meeting the foe. This last was soon verified
by the rise and approach of a small squadron of scout cruisers, winged
monoplanes, each with a ed monoplanes, each with a single pilot only
and one machine gun.
"Keep well under them," signaled Blaine to his friend. "Got any
ammunition? What? The devil!"
Orris had replied to Lafe's queries by shaking out the now empty
cartridge sheaves and dropping them again. Lafe, then swooping closer,
Called forth to his mate:
"By its looks this gun is a rebuilt Lewis. Can you use any of mine? You
know the Boches are great in reconstructing captured weapons to their
own use. Get below me and to one side. Hurry up! I'll try to toss you a
sheaf. Here -- damn you!"
This to the German who again evinced signs of life. Having no time to
spare, Blaine jerked the throat cord closer and gave a heavier foot
pressure to the prisoner's twisted arm. Meanwhile with no time to lose,

Orris swooped lower, rising gently under Blaine's right or starboard
side. The latter had to rise in order to toss the weighty sheaf of
cartridges exactly where he wished them to fall -- into Erwin's lap.
This he did successfully. But in so doing his weight relaxed upon the
Boche's arm. At the same time Orris, in catching the sheaf, allowed his
control grip to relax. The nose of Orris's machine, now rising, bumped
into Lafe's under plane, tilting it up sharply.
Precisely at this juncture, and as Blaine's foot pressure on his prisoner's
arm relaxed, the tilting planes threw him sharply forward, down and
upon the German. The latter, seeing his one chance, wrenched his
partially released arm forward and caught it round Blaine's legs as he
stumbled. At the same time this double movement somehow operated
to release Fritz's other arm.
By now, Orris, unconscious of the mischief his own upward shove had
caused, sheered his machine aside, still climbing upward and onward,
only to find three of the enemy scouts nearing rapidly and making
ready for an encounter.
Looking back, he saw, in the place of Blaine's leather cap and goggles,
a dimly shimmering twinkle of arms and legs flashing above the rim of
the open enclosure where the pilots sit.
"Great guns!" he ejaculated, his blood tingling with thrills. "That chap
has got