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Boy Scout Aviators

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<h2 id="id00471" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER VIII</h2> <h5 id="id00472">A FRIEND IN NEED</h5> "As long as I can't be at home, I'd rather be here than anywhere in the world I can think of!" Was it little more than a week, thought Harry Fleming, since he had uttered those words so lightly? Was it just a week since Grenfel, his English scoutmaster, had bidden the boys of his troop goodbye? Was it just two days since father and mother had been so suddenly recalled to the States? Was it just that very morning that he and his good chum Dick Mercer had been detailed on this mission which had led to the discovery of the secret heliographs so busily sending messages to the enemy across the North Sea? Was it just a few hours since the two Scouts, hot on the trail, had cached papers and motorcycles and started the closer exploration of that mysterious estate outside the sleepy English village, leased, so the village gossip had it, by a rich American who eccentrically denied himself to all comers and zealously guarded the privacy of his grounds? Was it just a few moments since he had urged, even commanded, Dick Mercer to leave him, caught in a trap set for just such trespassers as they? Had he urged his chum to leave him in his agony, for the ankle was badly wrenched, and seek safety in flight? The terrible pain in his ankle and the agonizing fear both for himself and his chum made moments seem like hours and the happenings of these same moments appear as an awful dream. He could hear, plainly enough, the advance of the two searchers who had scared Dick into hiding in the rhododendron bush, he could even see the gleam of their flashlights, and was able, therefore, to guess what they were doing. For the moment it seemed impossible to him that Dick should escape. He was sure of capture himself in a few minutes, and, as a matter of fact, there were things that made the prospect decidedly bearable. The pain in his ankle from the trap in which he had been caught was excruciating. It seemed to him that he must cry out, but he kept silence resolutely. As long as there was a chance that he might not fall into the hands of the spies who were searching the grounds, he meant to cling to it. But the chance was a very slim one, as he knew. He could imagine, without difficulty, just about what the men with the flashlights would do, by reasoning out his own course. They would look for footprints. These would lead them to the spot where he and Dick had watched the raising of the wireless mast, and thence along the path they had taken to return to the wall and to safety. Thus they would come to him, and he would be found, literally like a rat in a trap. And then, quite suddenly, came the diversion created by Dick's daring dash for escape, when he sped from the bush and climbed the wall, followed by the bullets that the searchers fired after him. Harry started, hurting his imprisoned ankle terribly by the wrench his sudden movement gave. Then he listened eagerly for the cry he dreaded yet expected to hear that would tell him that Dick had been hit. It did not come. Instead, he heard more men running, and then in a moment all within the wall was quiet, and he could hear the hue and cry dying away as they chased him along the road outside. "Well, by Jove!" he said to himself, enthusiastically, "I believe Dick's fooled them. I didn't think he had it in him! That's bully for him! He ought to get a medal for that!" It was some moments before he realized fully that he had gained a respite, temporally at least. Obviously the two men who had been searching with flashlights had followed Dick, there was at least a good chance that no one else knew about him. He had decided that there was some system of signal wires that rang an alarm when a trap was sprung. But it might be that these two men were the only ones who were supposed to follow up such an alarm. He carried a flashlight himself and now he took the chance of playing it on his ankle, to see if there was any chance of escape. He hooded the light with his hand and looked carefully. But what he saw was not encouraging. The steel band looked most formidable. It was on the handcuff principle and any attempt to work his foot loose would only make the grip tighter and increase his suffering. His spirits fell at that. Then the only thing his brief immunity would do for him would be to keep him in pain a little longer. He would be caught anyhow, and he guessed that, if Dick got away, he would find his captors in a savage mood. Even as he let the flashlight wink out, since it was dangerous to use it more than was necessary, he heard a cautious movement within a few feet. At first he thought it was an animal he had heard, so silent were its movements. But in a moment a hand touched his own. He started slightly, but kept quiet. "Hush—I'm a friend," said a voice, almost at his elbow. "'I thought you were somewhere around here but I couldn't find you until you flashed your light. You're caught in a trap, aren't you?" "Yes," said Harry. "Who are you?" "That's what I want to know about you, first," said the other boy—for it was another boy, as Harry learned from his voice. Never had a sound been more welcome in his ears than that voice. "Tell me who you are and what you two were doing around here. I saw you this afternoon and tracked you. I tried to before, but I couldn't, on account of your motorcycles. Then I just happened to see you, when you were on foot. Are you Boy Scouts?" "Yes," said Harry. "Are you?" "Yes. That's why I followed—especially when I saw you coming in here. We've got a patrol in the village, but most of the scouts are at work in the fields." Rapidly, and in a whisper, Harry explained a little, enough to make this new ally understand. "You'd better get out, if you know how, and take word," said Harry. "I think my chum got away, but it would be better to be sure. And they'll be after me soon." "If they give us two or three minutes we'll both get out," said the newcomer, confidently. "I know this place with my eyes shut. I used to play here before the old family moved away. I'm the vicar's son, in the village, and I always had the run of the park until these new people came. And I've been in here a few times since then, too." "That's all right," said Harry. "But how am I going to get out of this trap?" "Let me have your flashlight a moment," said the stranger. Harry gave it to him, and the other scout bent over his ankle. Harry saw that he had a long slender piece of wire. He guessed that he was going to try to pick the lock. And in a minute or less Harry heard a welcome click that told him his new found friend—a friend in need, indeed, he was proving himself to be, had succeeded. His ankle was free. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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