“What’s he got in his bundle?” whispered George Belding. “Got me. I saw he had that when he dropped from the burning Zep.” The two had not long to wait to learn just what the man carried with him. Being assured that he was alone, he dropped the bundle and proceeded to untie it. Then he began to remove his flying clothes. “A disguise,” were the words Belding’s lips mouthed, and Whistler nodded. The latter was making a thorough scrutiny of the German’s face. Whether they captured the man or not he proposed to know him again if he met him--no matter where. He was lean-faced, with a prominent nose, and eyes that Whistler thought were gray or a pale blue. He wore a tuft of black whisker on his chin and a little moustache. This, and the way he wore his hair--long and shaggy--made him look anything but Teutonic. The boys beheld the fellow, stripped of his outer garments, don loose trousers, a farmer’s smock, and a cap. Although he did not look English in the face, he was dressed much as the boys had seen the neighboring agriculturists and drovers dress. He even put on a pair of heavy boots instead of the laced shoes he had worn in the Zeppelin. “That chap means business,” whispered Belding. And then he suddenly grunted almost aloud, for out of his bundle the spy produced a pair of automatic pistols which he proceeded to hide under the loose blouse he now wore. “He is prepared to fight,” agreed Whistler under his breath. “We can’t capture him without help, George.” “You’ve said something, Whistler! One of us will have to go for help.” “Which shall it be--you or I?” asked Phil in the same cautious tone. “Al and the others would be glad to be in on this.” “And my friend Johnson, from the Old Kent Road. He’s sober now and worth two ordinary men in a scrimmage,” and Belding smiled broadly. “Shall I go?” “All right,” agreed Belding. “But be quick. And if I’m not here, I’ll drop papers to show my trail. I’ve plenty of old letters in my pocket to tear up.” “Good idea,” said Whistler, preparing to slide feet first down the rock. “Don’t get into trouble with that fellow, George.” With this admonition he left the other American lad and started back up the hill on the other side of which the huge airship had fallen to the earth. CHAPTER IV--THE PAPER CHASE Once again on the summit of the hill Whistler Morgan could overlook all the sloping pastureland bordering the pleasant road he and his friends had been strolling upon when the Zeppelin appeared; and he could view all the port and the harbor, as well. It was no peaceful scene now. The bombing of the port had done no damage to the shipping; but there were fires burning in three places in the town, as well as on the site of the schoolhouse and where the Hun airship had fallen. No second Zeppelin had appeared from the sea; but the guarding airplanes had now gathered like vultures, floating high above the port.