Chapter XXIII: A Leap for Liberty

THE Boy Aviators had just left the mess hall, and were proceeding to the hangars where the No. 3's were housed, fully intending to carry out their compromise plan of giving Roque and Schneider the means to escape, and return themselves as hostages for the honor of the aviation chief.

Shortly before seven o'clock on this eventful evening, Billy and Henri had the biplanes in order for the arranged visit to St. Michael road, and the delivery of one or both of the machines to their former owner, supposedly in waiting in the shadow of the two towers.

"It is really a relief that the time is drawing nigh for us to get off the rack. I believe we are doing the square thing, but sure we have had few easy moments during these last forty-eight hours."

Billy heaved a sigh when reviewing this disturbing experience.

Henri turned just then to salute the aviation chief. The boy's greeting had none of the cheery note usually there. He did not know how it would be several hours hence.

"Looks like a chance for you boys on the next dispatch trip to Petrograd," advised the chief; "we can illy spare more than two at a time of our regular air scouts, and here's a deal by which we have two extra machines and a pair of pilots thrown in."

With their minds clear and no cloud like the one looming ahead, the prospect of biplaning to the wonder city of Russia would have set the boys on the top floor of enthusiasm.

As it was, they could only say that they would welcome the work if it should be assigned to them.

The aviation chief had hardly taken a dozen steps in his continuing round of inspection when there was a shakeup that might have come by a combination of volcano and earthquake.

"Geeminy!" gasped Billy, clapping his hands to his ears, "somebody must have fired a ton of powder!"

A roll of drums preceded the hasty assembling of several regiments in this division, and a squadron of cavalry jingled madly down the street.

"That was a whopper, all right," exclaimed Henri, righting himself after his first little stagger from the shock, "but big noises ought not to queer us, pard. Get in and get away."

Following his chum's example, Billy was close behind the former in upward flight.

They could see that the streets below held literally surging masses of humanity, all trending in the same direction.

The aviators speedily gained an idea of what had happened. That which only the other day they had observed as a solid front of granite and iron on a building covering practically a whole city square had fallen in ruins, completely blockading the broad avenue it had faced.

About the square a cordon had been drawn, and it could be seen, even through the dusk, that troops were spreading fan-shape from this point throughout the entire northern section, while the police darted right and left and everywhere.

The select neighborhood of St. Michael road had not been omitted from the general round-up, the boys found, when they approached the site of the two towers.

It seemed that the abandoned team and wagon had been found somewhere along the highroad, and as suspicion was now acute, the discovery set the fine-comb going along every terrace and police poking in every likely hiding-place.

There had been instant acceptance of the theory that the storehouse and magazine had been deliberately blown up by the cunning contrivance of a spy or spies within the city.

Every stranger must give an account of himself, and even some individuals here and there who were not newcomers.

Billy and Henri could see no opening where two full length military biplanes could alight without notice, and not a morsel of encouragement to try for negotiation on the quiet with the disguised secret agent who had summoned them.

But the aviators hung about, not knowing what else to do for the present, thinking that Roque would make a showing of some sort, as he usually did in tight places.

Flying lower and lower, the two biplanes were sweeping within earshot of the terraced heights along the river front, and though now of dim vision, searching parties could be seen flashing lights up and down the ground tiers.

There was a hullabaloo breaking out on the lowest terrace, immediately overhanging the river--a shot--another and another--like a bunch of firecrackers, so fast did they follow!

A stentorian note of defiance, a rush, two shapes springing out into space, a great splash in the icy waters below!

If the morning revealed a single trace of the daring fugitives dead or alive, no word of it reached the aviation camp, to which the young airmen had returned, conscious that of this mission they were acquitted.

"Do you know, I can't help believing that they got across?"

Henri had a thought, perhaps, of the rabbit's foot that Schneider carried.

The boys had many under-the-breath discussions as to the possible connection of Roque with the explosion that had destroyed the war depot. They had no reckoning that in the little shop of a silversmith, not far removed from the very column and statue that had twice served them as a guide-post, the whole story might have been told by a wily confederate posing as a peaceful artisan. This same man could also have confessed to the first error of his expert career in the handling of a time-clock.

With plots and counterplots, however, the young aviators had no time or inclination to meddle. They would rather work in the open.

"I wonder if that lieutenant meant what he said about giving us a peek at Petrograd?"

Billy put the question to his chum as they contemplated with satisfaction a particularly neat job of aëroplane repair they had just completed.

"Don't see why he should say it if he did not mean it," replied Henri. "Next time he comes this way there would be no harm in reminding him of what he said."

It so happened that the aviation chief at the very moment was headed for the hangars. He was accompanied by two officers of apparent high rank, who gave the various types of aircraft close and critical inspection.

When the No. 3's came to their notice, one of the officers, a grizzled veteran, with a livid scar showing from temple to chin, halted with a pointed word of commendation.

"There's speed, balance and strength for you. Where were they built?"

The aviation chief explained.

"Ah, I see," said the officer, "the paint only is ours. Well, I think we need look no further. Get them ready for immediate use. Where are the pilots for this assignment?"

A call was passed for Billy and Henri.

When they faced the official visitors, both of the latter turned a stare full of question marks at the aviation chief.

"Are these the sons of our pilots to be?"

The senior colonel meant to be a bit sarcastic.

"No; but if the fathers really were as remarkably skilled in the high art of aëroplaning as 'the sons' you see here, I would request the general to let me go after them without delay."

The airman was very much in earnest in his firm but respectful effort to correct the impression of his superiors in command that he had been guilty of some error of judgment.

Henri unconsciously contributed another entering wedge when he gave his name to the younger of the colonels, who had taken a hand in the examination of the youthful candidates proposed by the aviation lieutenant for special aëroplane service.

"Trouville!" exclaimed the officer; "are you of the house founded by the first François and the motto 'Sans Peur'?" (Without Fear.)

"That's in my family record, sir," admitted Henri, who could not imagine what on earth his ancestry had to do with his ability to run an aëroplane.

"Then you will find an open door in Petrograd," proclaimed the colonel, "that of my father, who in his day of travel was often a guest at the Château Trouville, when your grandfather lived and they were kindred spirits in the world of art."

"Château Trouville and its art treasures are no more," sadly recalled Henri.

"My father will mourn with you there," assured the colonel.

Another assurance came from the aviation chief when the officers had returned to army headquarters to assist in the preparation of dispatches that were to go forward by aëroplane within the hour. Said the lieutenant:

"It is settled, my flying friends, that you are to go on this journey, which is imperative, owing to the investment of railroad connections. The observers behind you will point out the route, and easy to follow, as the river is ever in sight. As to the rest, you need no instructions."

"We are ready to start at the drop of a hat, sir," declared Billy. The boys had tuned the No. 3's to the point of perfection.

The observers and dispatch bearers, Marovitch and Salisky, honor men in the service, soon appeared, hooded and enveloped in furs.

The first named handed Henri a card. "From Colonel Malinkoff," he said. The boy saw that it contained the words "He is a Trouville," signed "Alexander," and directing to a certain street and number in Petrograd. Henri carefully pocketed the valuable reference.

In the early afternoon the young aviators had their first view of the capital city of the Russians, at the mouth of the Neva, and they made landing upon a massive granite quay on the south bank of the big river.

As the boys walked with the special messengers to Admiralty Place, they marveled at the colossal proportions of the public buildings, and looking up and down one magnificent avenue, five or six miles in length and 130 feet wide, Billy squeezed the elbow of his comrade, with the awed comment: "There's all outdoors in that street."

"That's the Nevskoi Prospekt," advised Marovitch.

"The very name on the colonel's card," cried Henri, "Malinkoff palace, too."

"Know it very well," put in Salisky, "a twenty-minute ride, and you are there."

When the dispatches were delivered the boys were not present, but there was no lack of interest for them outside. Standing near the copper-inlaid doors through which the messengers had passed were a number of Cossacks, dressed in scarlet, gold-braided caftans, white waistcoats and blue trousers.

"That's a fancy looking bunch," whispered Billy; "I guess they are something extra. And--say, Buddy, if my eyes don't deceive me that fellow in the middle, the one with the bushiest beard, is no other than the boss of the crowd who shoved us in the cellar over in Galicia!"

"Cracky, what a pair of eyes you've got, old scout, and sure it's the very same, though he doesn't look as rusty as he did then."

Henri seemed to be fascinated by the discovery, and watched like a hawk every movement of the old enemy in the new garb.

About that time the Cossack happened to cast a glance in the direction of the spot where the boys were stationed, and two pairs of eyes met in a single flash. In the fierce orbs, and under the beetling eyebrows of the knight of the mountains and deserts, the flash plainly conveyed a puzzled expression. Henri lowered his look. This risk of recognition was more than he intended his bid to bring.

Turning away, the boy sought to show his indifference of the now strained situation. He managed to get an aside to Billy, in effect:

"I'm afraid I've put my foot in it now."

With the reappearance of Marovitch and Salisky, Henri, in subdued tone, requested information regarding their brilliantly attired neighbors.

"Why," responded Marovitch, "they are of the personal escort of the Czar."

"Good-night," thought Henri, "it's a fix we are into, and less than two hours in the town."

"How far did you say it was to the Malinkoff palace?" he suddenly asked.

"Oh, about two miles up the Prospekt," said Salisky.

"Hail one of those carryalls, please," requested the aviator, pointing to the nearest stand of vehicles for hire.

The Cossack had followed them, and was slowly descending the marble steps just quitted by the boys and their companions. He was evidently still debating with himself.

The driver of the chartered vehicle cracked his whip and carried his passengers up the street as fast as his heavy horses could gallop.

With a speed ordinance he had no acquaintance.