Boy Scouts -- Juvenile fiction; Courage -- Juvenile fiction; Spy stories; World War, 1914-1918 -- England -- Juvenile fiction
"I imagine she’ll have about a hundred and twenty miles to travel in a
straight line–perhaps a little less," said Harry. "She can make that in
about two hours, or less. And she’ll travel without lights, and in the
dark. Big as they are, those airships are painted so that they’re
almost invisible from below. So if she comes by night, getting here
won’t be as hard a job as it seems at first thought."
Then the three of them went over in every detail the plan Harry had
formed. Dick and Harry took their places in the monoplane and rehearsed
every movement they would have to make.
"I can’t think of anything else that we can provide for now," said
Harry, at last. "Of course, we can’t tell what will come up, and it
would be wonderful if everything came out just as we had planned. But
we’ve provided for everything we can think of. You know where you are to
be, Jack?"
"Yes."
"Then you’d better start pretty soon. Good-bye, Jack!" He held out his
hand. "We could never have worked this out without you. If we succeed
you’ll have had a big part in what we’ve done."
A little later Jack said good-bye in earnest, and then there was nothing
to do but wait. About them the voices of the insects and frogs changed,
with the darkening night. The stars came out, but the night was a dark
one. Harry looked at his watch from time to time and at last he got up.
"Time to start!" he said.
He felt a thrill of nervousness as the monoplane rose in the air. After
all, there was a difference between being the pilot and sitting still in
the car. But he managed very well, after a few anxious moments in the
ascent. And once they were clear of the trees and climbing swiftly, in
great spirals, there was a glorious sensation of freedom. Dick caught
his breath at first, then he got used to the queer motion, and cried
aloud in his delight.
Harry headed straight into the east when he felt that he was high
enough. And suddenly he gave a cry.
"Look!" he shouted in Dick’s ear. "We didn’t start a moment too soon.
See her–that great big cigar-shaped thing, dropping over there?"
It was the Zeppelin–the battleship of the air. She was dipping down,
descending gracefully, over Bray Park.
"I was right!" cried Harry. "Now we can go to work at once–we won’t
have to land and wait!"
He rose still higher, then flew straight for Bray Park. They were high,
but, far below, with lights moving about her, they could see the huge
bulk of the airship, as long as a moderate sized ocean liner. She
presented a perfect target.
"Now!" said Harry.
And at once Dick began dropping projectiles they had found in the
aeroplane–sharply pointed shells of steel. Harry had examined these–he
found they were really solid steel shot, cast like modern rifle bullets,
and calculated to penetrate, even without explosive action, when dropped
from a height.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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