"What is the effect of chlorine gas upon food?" inquired the A.P.
"Rotten, I should imagine. Why?" asked Billy in surprise.
"Because there's food and drink down there," continued Kirkwood, pointing to the body of the corporal. "These fellows, for some reason, are in heavy marching order. There's almost certain to be grub in his pack and I can see his water bottle. We can't afford to be too squeamish, you know."
"Don't fancy German tack steeped in poison," remarked Fuller. "Although I feel as if I could eat almost anything. As for water—well, there's plenty of that about."
"And that's what makes me think that the fellow has something better than water in his canteen. At any rate, here goes."
Giving a glance round to see that no one was in sight the A.P. again descended to earth. Gingerly unbuckling the dead soldier's knapsack he produced half a loaf of black bread, a tin of meat and a hermetically-sealed box that afterwards proved to contain biscuits. One sniff at the bread was enough. Kirkwood promptly replaced it and carefully rebuckled the straps of the pack. The man's water-bottle he risked taking. Unscrewing the cork he found that the bottle contained neat Schnapps.
"One teaspoonful only for you, Fuller," he announced as he rejoined his comrades with the spoils. "Raw spirit will play the deuce with that wound of yours."
"You are quite right," agreed the flight-lieutenant as Barcroft proceeded to prise open the meat tin. Its contents consisted of tightly packed sausages. "For the same reason I suppose I must abstain from rich food. Give me a biscuit, you despoiler of the dead."
Late in the afternoon another party of Germans arrived upon the scene, this time merely to collect the victims of the gas and to remove the instruments of retribution.
"Double patrols at all cross-roads to-night, curse it!" said one of the soldiers. "Always more work. These Englishmen must be stiff by this time. Why send us out to arrest corpses?"
"We don't know that the gas has settled them," replied his companion. "Although it did the trick very neatly for Johannes Muller. I'm sorry for him. As for the ober-leutnant——"
He shrugged his shoulders expressively. Evidently the officer was a typical Prussian.
"These English airmen played the deuce at Aerschot and Lierre," continued the first speaker. "It will go badly with them if they're caught, but, as I said, it's my opinion that they are done for already. Double patrols on a night like this. It's as bad as the trenches at Ypres."
"Fortunately I am warned for the Golden Lion cross-roads," said his companion. "As soon as the leutnant has made the rounds our party will make tracks for the cabaret. I am an old campaigner, Fritz."
"Ach! Do not, then, get caught," cautioned the other as he slammed the lid of the box on the cart. "It will be safe enough between midnight and two o'clock. I've a mind to join you, only it's a goodish step from Quatre Vents."
"Where's the map?" inquired Fuller, after the fatigue party had disappeared. "The 'Golden Lion' he said? That's it—le Lion Doré—it's marked here. Luck, boys! It's on the way to the frontier. Roll on, eleven o'clock. Only six hours more. Why didn't we bring a gramophone, or even a pack of cards?"
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-compass 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 XXX
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 passed, 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 pavé, 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 reasserted 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."