Boy Scouts -- Juvenile fiction; Courage -- Juvenile fiction; Spy stories; World War, 1914-1918 -- England -- Juvenile fiction
"Oh, I don’t want him–not just now. But I don’t want him to see me just
at present. I want to know where he is so that I can avoid him."
"Suppose I scout into Bray?" suggested Jack. "I can find out something
that might be useful, perhaps. If any of them from Bray Park have come
into the village to-day I’ll hear about it."
"That’s a good idea. Suppose you do that, Jack. I don’t know just what
I’ll do yet. But if I go away from here before you come back, Dick will
stay. I’ve got to think–there must be some way to beat them!"
CHAPTER X–A CAPTURE FROM THE SKIES
Jack went off to see what he could discover, and Harry, left behind with
Dick, racked his brain for some means of blocking the plan he was so
sure the Germans had made. He was furious at Graves, who had
discredited him with Colonel Throckmorton, as he believed. He minded
the personal unpleasantness involved far less than the thought that his
usefulness was blocked, for he felt that no information he might bring
would be received now.
As he looked around it seemed incredible that such things as he was
trying to prevent could even be imagined. After the early rain, the day
had cleared up warm and lovely, and it was now that most perfect of
things, a beautiful summer day in England. The little road they had
taken was a sort of blind alley. It had brought them to a meadow,
whence the hay had already been cut. At the far side of this ran a
little brook, and all about them were trees. Except for the calls of
birds, and the ceaseless hum of insects, there was no sound to break the
stillness. It was a scene of peaceful beauty that could not be surpassed
anywhere in the world. And yet, only a few miles away, at the most,
were men who were planning deliberately to bring death and destruction
upon helpless enemies–to rain down death from the skies.
By very contrast to the idyllic peace of all about them, the terrors of
war seemed more dreadful. That men who went to war should be killed and
wounded, bad though it was, still seemed legitimate. But this driving
home of an attack upon a city all unprepared, upon the many
non-combatants who would be bound to suffer, was another and more
dreadful thing. Harry could understand that it was war, that it was
permissible to do what these Germans planned. And yet–
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden change in the quality of the
noisy silence that the insects made. Just before he noticed it, half a
dozen bees had been humming near him. Now he heard something that
sounded like the humming of a far vaster bee. Suddenly it stopped, and,
as it did, he looked up, his eyes as well as Dick’s being drawn upward
at the same moment. And they saw, high above them, an aeroplane with
dun colored wings. Its engine had stopped and it was descending now in
a beautiful series of volplaning curves.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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