<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII<br/> <span class="cheaderfont">STRANGE SIGHTS IN VIENNA</span></h2>
<p>The course of the <em>Flyer</em> to the Austro-Hungarian
capital was southeasterly, and it was
already dusk by the time the vicinity was
reached. Had it only been lighter the boys might
have been treated to a magnificent view of the
outlying ranges of the Alps directly in front
of them, with the ancient historic city lying
there below on the right bank of the lordly
Danube.</p>
<p>Their approach had, however, been seen, and
long before they reached the city ten or twelve
military aeroplanes were hovering excitedly
about them. According to directions given by
the commandant at Przemysl, the boys hung out
two flags—one German, the other Austrian—and,
encouraged by the sight of these, one aviator
more daring than his comrades, planed up
parallel with them, shouting in German:</p>
<p>“Who are you, aeronauts?”</p>
<p>Bob answered him from one of the outer
runways.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[183]</span></p>
<p>“Friends from Przemysl with a wounded
soldier,” he shouted through a megaphone.
“We want to alight in the city as near the
largest hospital as possible. Will you show us
the way?”</p>
<p>“What is the code word?” questioned the
circling Austrian aviator, still suspicious.</p>
<p>“The Double-headed Eagle and a Third
Crown,” replied Bob, as instructed by the
governor.</p>
<p>This apparently satisfied the airman, who at
once passed the word to his flying companions
and the whole crowd of aircraft descended upon
the city like a flock of sparrows settling down
upon a telegraph wire. The Austrian flyers
guided the <em>Ocean Flyer’s</em> direction of descent.</p>
<p>A landing was successfully accomplished in the
Prater, which is a vast expanse of wood and
park on the east side of the city between the
river Danube and the Danube “canal.” Here
in former times the fashionable and the blue-blooded
rolled in stately carriages along the
Haupt-Allee, and the light-hearted, pleasure-loving
middle-classes whiled away their time
boisterously in the Wurstel Prater.</p>
<p>Now all was very different though. This
plaisance of indolent fashion was changed to a<span class="pagenum">[184]</span>
military aviation field. Flimsily constructed
plank hangars dotted the terraces all around the
celebrated Rotunda, and wireless apparatus
towered gaunt and skeleton-like into the air.
High-powered automobiles, driven with reckless
speed, were rushing between there and the city
across the canal.</p>
<p>It is hardly necessary to relate here the astonishment
and curiosity of the Austrian aviators
over the <em>Ocean Flyer</em> as it finally alighted in
their midst. Alan was selected to remain in
charge of it, while the three other boys and the
wounded Racoszky were whirled rapidly into
Vienna in one of the waiting automobiles. On
the way Bob told the two officers who accompanied
them the pathetic story of the invalid,
and they were at once all sympathy for him.</p>
<p>“Since the old count is the sort of man you
say he is, you will probably find him to-morrow
dawdling in the ‘Inner City’ where the palaces
are, or else driving here along the Ringstrasse,”
said one of the officers. “You may not believe
it, sir, but practically no steps have been taken
to fortify Vienna here against capture. The
military aviation corps is supposed to guard
aerial approach, and nobody save the good old
Emperor seems to take other dangers seriously.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[185]</span></p>
<p>“Our nobility is too pleasure-loving, too loath
to acknowledge responsibility. To-day, with all
of our outside territory in the throes of a death
struggle, with three nations across our borders,
and with the ugly rumble of national revolution,
the fashionables still parade grandly about,
affecting to ignore conditions. Last week there
were bread riots and the scum of the city’s
alleys and back streets sacked shops throughout
the Leopoldstadt district. It took two regiments
of soldiers to drive them back. Conspiracy is
rank around us; pestilence stalks abroad through
the byways. I hear that Bohemia is already in
revolt. No one knows what terrible disaster will
come in the next news from the front.</p>
<p>“The aged Emperor can do nothing but sit
there in the Hofburg, while his peers, fled here
in terror from all other parts of the kingdom,
spend their time in the gambling casinos, dance
as if frenzied in the <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Zinspaeleste</i> or, believing
the end of the world at hand, are lost to religion,
morality and the commonest decencies of mankind
in debauching there in the Tabarin and
vice-sinks like it.</p>
<p>“All day long they ride in landaus with silk
parasols, lap-dogs and frippery, where cavalry
divisions should be maneuvering. Silk hats are<span class="pagenum">[186]</span>
seen where helmets ought to gleam. The cane
is more widely flourished here than the sword!
But ‘drink and be merry, for to-morrow we
die.’”</p>
<p>As the indignant officer paused in his tirade,
the automobile wheeled into the Alsergrund
district and in a few seconds more was at the
foot of the great flight of gray stone stairs
leading up to the official military hospital.</p>
<p>“We want to get a light, airy, private room
for Lieutenant Racoszky,” Ned explained to the
tired, white-uniformed attendant who met them.</p>
<p>He shook his head wearily, shrugged his
shoulders and replied patiently:</p>
<p>“That is what they all say. Each day I hear
it hundreds of times—as if there were room
in all of the Alsergrund for half the sick in
Vienna! Is this one of the plague-ridden too?”</p>
<p>Finally, however, accommodations were found
for poor Racoszky, and the boys left, promising
to return on the morrow. The officers then
escorted them to their military headquarters,
where their story had to be retold before they
were given the liberty of the city. They told too
of the gallant defenders in Przemysl and evoked
loud cheers from all who heard them.</p>
<p>“Ah!” exclaimed one old soldier, “would<span class="pagenum">[187]</span>
that I were there to die a hero’s death with
them, rather than standing guard over this
madhouse here!”</p>
<p>Inasmuch as the night was still young, the
boys decided to look about the city a bit before
returning to Alan and the <em>Flyer</em> out in the
Prater. In a rented taxicab they toured the city
and found conditions much as they had been
described to them. All of the street lamps,
cafes, dance halls and places of amusement
were ablaze with light and thronged with patrons
as if on a gala night. The dreamy strains of a
Strauss or Gungel waltz were weirdly intermingled
with the barbaric staccato of banjorines
thrumming the latest tango.</p>
<p>The shocked and astounded boys sat for a
few moments in the gallery surrounding one of
the huge dance pavilions where hilarity was at
its height. The babel of incongruous noises
beat all around them, but every now and then
during a momentary lull in the clamor, they
were conscious of a subdued conversation going
on at an adjacent table.</p>
<p>The four men who sat there were neither noisy
nor bent on amusement. That was plain. One
was of gigantic physique and wore a huge black,
bristly beard. One was short and unwholesomely<span class="pagenum">[188]</span>
fat. He had pouches under his wicked
little pig’s eyes and his skin was blotchy. On
his one hand three rings set with magnificent
jewels sparkled. The third man was evidently
from a different social class, for his hands were
stubby, with black-rimmed finger nails and a
loose, brutal mouth. The fourth man at the table
sat with his back to the boys and wore a cape
pulled high up so as almost completely to muffle
his face. They all were leaning with heads close
together over the table, scarcely having tasted
the wine in their glasses.</p>
<p>Ned, who sat nearest to them, at one time
heard the little fat man with the rings, saying:</p>
<p>“... best done as you say.
To-morrow night I know from His Excellency
the Grand Chancellor that A Certain Distinguished
Personage will remove for the week-end
to the imperial chateau of Schoenbrunn.
That is only fifty-five minutes run by motor car
from the Hofburg and certainly we can——”</p>
<p>The blare of music beneath the gallery as the
giddy dance resumed, drowned his further
utterance. By and by, though, Ned again caught
a disjointed phrase or two:</p>
<p>“... only a guard of ten Hussars ... servants
in the chateau all bribed.<span class="pagenum">[189]</span>
We’re sure of them ... he sleeps
ordinarily in that suite in the southwest wing,
easily reached by a ladder against the wall....
No! no! Don’t use your knife,
Ottaker, you fool! He is so old and feeble that
a good minute’s grip on his windpipe will
finish him!”</p>
<p>“And the Lerchenfeld cathedral chimes will
go ‘<em>Ding, dong, ding! Ding, dong, ding!</em> Franz
Joseph dead! Franz Joseph——’”</p>
<p>Both the fat little man and he of the enveloping
cape swung quickly around and eyed the near-by
boys sharply. Ned met their scrutiny innocently
enough.</p>
<p>The iron jaw and full eyes of the man in the
cloak impressed themselves indelibly upon his
memory.</p>
<p>“Huh!” grunted the fat man, as he turned,
back to his companions.</p>
<p>“They don’t matter—only young boys—maybe
tourists caught over here by the war!”</p>
<p>Ned furtively motioned Bob Russell closer
to him.</p>
<p>“Bob,” he whispered, “those men are talking
in French, although they are every one Austrians,
and I can understand them.”</p>
<p>“Well, what of it?” asked Bob, puzzled.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[190]</span></p>
<p>“Just this!” breathed Ned. “They are
plotting to assassinate the Emperor to-morrow
night!”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum">[191]</span></p>
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