Billy Barcroft, R.N.A.S Part 36

Slowly the leaden-footed hours sped. Darkness fell upon the scene.

To add to the cold and discomfort; a chilly rain followed the "piping down" of the wind. The gnarled bough, rendered slippery with the moisture, was hardly safe. Its condition presaged danger when the time came for the three fugitives to attempt to descend the tree trunk. What was more there was every indication of the wet turning into ice.

Even the airmen's thick leather coats and fleece-lined gloves afforded but scant protection against the rigours of the penetrating air. Again and again Billy consulted the luminous hand of his watch.

Would the hour of eleven never come?

"Why wait any longer?" asked the A.P., his teeth chattering with the cold. "We can make our way cautiously through the wood. We'll be a mile nearer to the Golden Lion crossroads when we get to the other side. We'll be too benumbed if we stop here."

"All right," agreed Barcroft. "Belts together, lads. We'll lower you as far as we can, John. Mind that ankle of yours when you drop."

It was an eerie business lowering Fuller through the darkness, but without mishap he alighted on the soft ground. Then having thrown down the water bottle and the rest of the provisions his two comrades rejoined him.

"All right?" whispered Barcroft.

"Right as ninepence," replied the flight-lieutenant. "Lead on, Macduff."

Guided by a luminous spirit-compa.s.s Billy plunged into the wood, his companions following in single file. Already the rain had been sufficiently heavy to moisten the ground in spite of the protection afforded by the leafless branches. Here and there a dry twig cracked under their feet; again and again they had to make detours to avoid thick-set undergrowth; once their progress was impeded by a knee-deep but sluggish brook, but without mishap the fugitives gained the remote side of the wood.

Beyond all was dark as pitch. The sky being overcast even the starlight was denied them. Presently a lantern gleamed in the distance, its yellow glimmer lighting up the high-pitched roof and quaint chimneys of a tall building that had evidently escaped the ruin of war.

Barcroft nudged the A.P.

"The 'Golden Lion'," he announced. "And another hour and a half to wait."

CHAPTER x.x.x

THE BARN BY THE RIVER

THE distant light from the lantern glittered on the bayonets of the sentries, who, sheltering as best they might from the rain, paced stolidly to and fro at the bleak cross-roads. Presently the gleam increased in intensity, throwing distorted shadows upon the gaunt poplars of the road-side.

"The lieutenant going the rounds," whispered Fuller. "Fancy the fool taking a lantern with him. Wonder if he's afraid of the dark?"

The quivering bayonets stiffened into immobility as the Hun officer approached the now alert sentries. The fugitives could just distinguish the guttural 'Wer da?' of the challenge, then an unintelligible exchange of words.

The German officer and his escort moved on. The sentries, sloping arms, resumed their monotonous beat until the round had disappeared from sight and hearing.

Seemingly interminable minutes pa.s.sed, until just as midnight was approaching there came a low whistle through the darkness.

"_Hier!_" replied one of the men.

"All safe," rejoined the new-comer. "Yes, both of you. What a night!

It's not fit for a dog to be abroad."

"Now," whispered Barcroft at the expiration of another long ten minutes. "Ankle all right, old man?"

"Quite," replied Fuller mendaciously. It was far from right, but the flight-lieutenant, game to the core, had no intention of letting his chums know that every time he set foot to the ground excruciating pains racked him.

Across the clayey soil, now almost knee-deep in mud, the daring trio literally floundered, their immediate objective being the endmost of a line of tall trees at a distance of fifty yards from the cross-roads.

"Steady!" cautioned Billy as the _pav_, glistening even in the gloom, became visible. "I'll push on and see that the coast is clear. Back in a brace of shakes."

The trees cast sombre shadows as the flight sub drew near; rain, closely approaching sleet, fell in a steady downpour; the wind had resumed its doleful whine. Altogether the climatic conditions were horrible.

"This is absolutely the limit," thought Billy, until his characteristic optimism rea.s.serted itself. "Perhaps it's as well, though. The Huns don't like sticking it and have departed. A fine night and our risks would be greatly increased."

He pulled up with startling suddenness. Less than ten paces ahead of him was a German sentry. Sheltering under the lee of the outer most tree the fellow was actually looking straight in the flight-sub's direction.

For several seconds Barcroft stood stock still, debating whether to throw himself upon the man or seek safety in flight. The sentry, his coat-collar turned up and his hands resting upon the muzzle of his rifle, appeared as immobile as if fas.h.i.+oned of stone. He was an oldish man. The flight-sub was certain of that fact; more, he wore gla.s.ses.

"A Landsturmer, and as blind as a bat," thought the young officer.

"There were three sentries, then; two have gone to the estaminet, the old boy is told to remain at his post. Now what's to be done?

Something, or Fuller and Kirkwood will be forging ahead to find me and then there'll be damage done."

Very cautiously Barcroft began to back away from the unsuspecting Hun. The man coughed and hunched his shoulders still more. At the sound Billy again stood rigid, half expecting the sentry to slope arms and resume his beat. Nothing happening, the flight-sub withdrew as silently and stealthily as the slippery state of the _pav_ permitted.

"Well?" whispered the A.P.

"Hist!" was Barcroft's only reply, then grasping his companions by their arms he led them back until they were well out of the sentry's hearing--even supposing that he possessed the normal use of his ears.

"A Boche over there," reported Barcroft. "Nearly rammed him broadside on. Blind as a bat; a regular septuagenarian. We'll make a slight detour and have another shot at crossing the road. It's open country beyond."

This time the highway presented no difficulty, and with renewed vigour the trio struggled through the tenacious slime beyond.

It was Barcroft's plan to keep to the fields as much as possible and follow the road on a parallel course. It was infinitely harder going, but there was less risk of blundering upon a German outpost, while at intervals military motor-cars tore at break-neck speed over the slippery _pav_, their iron-shod wheels slithering dangerously on the slimy stones.

In almost total silence the dreary trek was maintained throughout the night, with the exception of two brief halts. Gamely Fuller "stuck it," although his ankle was getting worse under the strain.

His left arm, too, was throbbing in spite of careful bandaging, yet no word of complaint came from his lips.

At half past six in the morning Barcroft called a halt.

"By dead reckoning I estimate we have covered twenty-five miles," he announced. "That's not so dusty. It will be dawn in another hour.

We'll have to find a place and lie doggo until to-night. How's the victualling department, purser?"

"I can spare a couple of biscuits apiece," declared the A.P. "And a small tot of Schnapps. You'll have to wait till lunch time for the sausage tack. I'm counting on a three days' basis, you know."

"Very good," replied Barcroft approvingly. "There is a hovel or barn ahead. We'll make for that."

The outbuilding consisted of stone walls and a tiled roof, the latter in a state of dilapidation. The ma.s.sive oaken door had been partly wrenched from its hinges. Within, the floor was of trodden earth mixed with lime. The place was absolutely bare.

"Not even a bundle of straw," declared the A.P. "The roof leaks like a sieve. Still, it is better than nothing at all."

"The only place to hide in is under the rafters," said the flight-sub. "Those two planks lying over the beams will serve that purpose should necessity occur. I would suggest that we keep watch by turns--two-hour tricks. That will give each man four consecutive hours' rest. I'll take first trick; you, Bobby, will relieve me and John will follow on. Now to bed, you roysterers."

Fuller and the A.P. needed no second bidding. Rolling themselves in their leather coats that fortunately acted as waterproofs, and with their heads pillowed on their padded flying helmets, they were soon sound asleep.