<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<h1 class="nobreak">The Airship Boys<br/> In the Great War</h1>
<p class="center p2 xlargefont">or, The Rescue of<br/>
Bob Russell</p>
<p class="center largefont p2 s2"><span class="smallfont">BY</span><br/>
DE LYSLE F. CASS</p>
<p class="center xxlargefont nobreak" style="margin-bottom:1em" id="CHAPTER_I">The Airship Boys in the<br/>
Great War</p>
<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I<br/> <span class="cheaderfont">WHAT THE NEWSPAPER TOLD</span></h2>
<p>“Great Guns!” exclaimed Alan Hope, bending
down over the newspaper which he had
spread out upon the table in front of him.</p>
<p>Ned Napier, who was deep in a pile of blue
prints on his desk, glanced over at his chum.</p>
<p>“Great guns exactly describes it, if you’re
reading those accounts of the war in Europe,”
said he with a grin, “or maybe you’d better say
the great-<em>est</em> guns, because that’s what they are
using over there just now. But then, we shouldn’t
worry as long as they aren’t shooting up the
good old Stars and Stripes.”</p>
<p>“That’s just it, Ned; we <em>should</em> worry,”
answered Alan, his face puckered into unaccustomed
wrinkles, and his eyes still swiftly
scanning the pages of the newspaper before
him. “We ought to worry about this piece of<span class="pagenum">[10]</span>
news, because it concerns a mighty good friend
of ours.”</p>
<p>“Who! How’s that? Where is it?” cried
Ned, swinging around in his swivel chair so
as to face the other boy. Seeing that Alan was
still staring as if bewildered at the paper, he
arose and hurried over to the table. Leaning
down over Alan’s shoulder, he at first could
only see flaring headlines of three and four-inch
black-faced type.</p>
<p>As Ned’s eye roved down the outspread
sheet, however, it finally was caught by a smaller
sub-head, sandwiched in between reports on the
latest scandal on the Subway Investigation and
alleged atrocities in Belgium. He gave a gasp
of mingled astonishment and consternation as
he read the following:</p>
<p class="center">“AMERICAN WAR CORRESPONDENT IN
PRISON</p>
<p class="center">“Will Be Tried as a Spy!</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>“Associated Press Syndicate, Muhlbruck, via
Brussels, November 13, (Delayed by censor).—Robert
Russell, said to be an American newspaper
man, has been arrested here and put under
guard, pending trial as a spy by Gen. Haberkampf,<span class="pagenum">[11]</span>
commanding the division of the West
Battalion. The Germans are taking every precaution
to safeguard the secrecy of their maneuvers,
and this arrest is said to be only one
of their determined efforts to discourage the
presence of alien war correspondents. Russell
is in grave danger of being shot unless he can
satisfactorily explain certain papers found upon
his person at the time of his arrest.”</p>
</div>
<p>No wonder that both Ned and Alan turned
pale and looked at each other in a dazed,
stupefied sort of way. Bob Russell was one of
their oldest and dearest comrades, a lad only
slightly older than themselves, who had gone
through innumerable adventures with them. He
had so often accompanied them in sensational
exploits, that his name was often linked with
theirs: The “Airship Boys.” He had accompanied
them on the famous twelve-hour flight
of the <em>Ocean Flyer</em> from London to New York;
he had braved death with them in Mexico when
the Airship Boys put a stop to the smuggling of
Chinamen into this country; he had proved himself
an intrepid comrade when they had dared
wild Indian tribes in Navajo land in search of
the hidden Aztec temple; he had risked death
with them on their dash for the North Pole.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[12]</span></p>
<p>The Airship Boys and their adventures have
been written up in newspapers and books and
Bob Russell was no small factor in the success
of his friends.</p>
<p>Bob Russell! As tried and true a comrade
as ever a boy had—always cheerful, full of
expedients, and “game” to the core. They
could hardly realize that it was he who was
now threatened by such frightful death, without
a single friend near to aid him.</p>
<p>“Poor Bob!” exclaimed Alan, and was not
at all ashamed of the unaccustomed lump that
crowded further speech from his throat. “Poor
Bob!” he repeated.</p>
<p>Ned had dropped his face into his hands and
with closed eyes mentally pictured the crowded,
ill-smelling prison where Bob sat unshaven and
forlorn, surrounded by other wounded and miserable
beings who felt no sympathy for him nor
even spoke his language—who only shrank with
wide, scared eyes from the suspicious glare of
the armed Germans on guard. Maybe Bob was
thinking of him too just then, wondering what
the Airship Boys were doing, picturing them
skimming luxuriously out over the sun-kissed
ocean in careless forgetfulness of him, their
devoted comrade of past days.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[13]</span></p>
<p>Alan interrupted Ned’s mournful imaginings
again.</p>
<p>“Just think,” he cried, “of all the terrible
barbarities which the newspapers say that the
Germans have inflicted upon their captives.
Think, they may perpetrate some similar awful
atrocity upon poor old Bob!”</p>
<p>Ned shook his head impatiently.</p>
<p>“No, I don’t believe they would do anything
like that,” said he. “Two-thirds of these torture
and massacre stories we read about are
hysterical exaggerations, prompted either by
their enemies or newspaper writers with a lively
imagination. The Germans are a kindly, civilized
people, just as the English or French, and
certainly more so than the Russians. If they
shoot Bob it will be because they honestly
believe him to be a spy.”</p>
<p>“But they mustn’t shoot him! It must be
stopped some way!”</p>
<p>“Yes, but how? If all of the influence that
Uncle Sam can exert won’t protect him, what
can?”</p>
<p>“<em>We</em> can, Ned. There is no time to wait
for diplomatic negotiations, which may accomplish
nothing anyway. Remember that this
newspaper says that certain incriminating papers<span class="pagenum">[14]</span>
have been found on Bob’s person. If he is to
be saved it must be done immediately and by us
two alone. We can take the <em>Ocean Flyer</em> and
reach Belgium in twenty or twenty-one hours,
just as easily as we made that trip from New
York to London in eighteen hours last year.”</p>
<p>“I admit that we can get there soon enough,”
answered Ned, “but what about the third man
whom we’ll need to help us manage the airship?”</p>
<p>“Why not ‘Buck’ Stewart, who went with
us on the <em>Flyer’s</em> trip to London? We know
that he is absolutely dependable, and is familiar
with the workings of the ship besides. Then,
too, the <cite>Herald</cite> will be more than glad of the
chance to send one of its reporters with us to
see the war at close range.”</p>
<p>Alan’s intense enthusiasm began to communicate
itself to the slower-thinking, more practical
Ned, but he was not ready to act without mature
consideration of all the difficulties involved which
might make a failure of their attempt.</p>
<p>“I don’t want you to think me lukewarm
about doing anything in our power to save
Bob,” said he, “but we’ve got to look carefully
at all sides of this thing. Don’t you
realize that the United States government
wouldn’t sanction any high-handed breaking of<span class="pagenum">[15]</span>
neutrality laws that might drag it into the war,
just because an American citizen was held
captive?”</p>
<p>“Then let’s go without the government’s
permission! Who is there to stop us? We can
get enough credentials from Mr. Latimer, managing
editor of the <cite>Herald</cite>, to tide us over small
passport difficulties, and further than those we
certainly can depend upon ourselves. We won’t
have to flaunt the Stars and Stripes under the
nose of every foreigner we happen to meet over
there anyway. Remember what Senator Bascom
said in his speech on the Mexican war: ‘If the
life of a single United States citizen is at stake,
it is worth all of the millions of mere money
that international war may cost us.’ We can’t
desert good old Bob in an emergency like this,
can we?”</p>
<p>“No!” shouted Ned, jumping to his feet and
banging his fists on the desk in front of him.
“You’re right, Alan. We’re going to show
those chaps over there that it’s not such ‘a
long, long way to Tipperary,’ after all, providing
one can travel in the Airship Boys’ <em>Ocean
Flyer</em> at the rate of two hundred miles an hour.
Get on your hat and overcoat, Alan! We’re
going over to the <cite>Herald</cite> office right now to see<span class="pagenum">[16]</span>
what the editor of the <cite>Herald</cite> will do for us.”</p>
<p>“Hip, hip, hurrah!” shouted Alan, and
grabbing Ned’s out-stretched hands they did a
truly boyish war-dance around the sober, stately
offices of the Universal Transportation Company,
of which they were the heads.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum">[17]</span></p>
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