Billy Barcroft, R.N.A.S Part 40

"You might have cut down your milk-bills," remarked his companion.

"For a Biblical precedent you have the case of the prophet who was fed by ravens. I presume they stole from his neighbours. Were their efforts confined purely to the milk-business?"

"Hardly," replied Peter. "In one instance they brought home a boot."

"Only one?"

"Only one," declared Barcroft solemnly.

"It was in an almost new condition. I made inquiries all over Alderdene but without success. No one had lost a boot. Quite a month later I discovered that a parson living at Barcroft, a village three miles away, had missed one of his boots, and sure enough the one Ponto and Nan brought in was the missing article. Apparently they had walked into the parson's scullery, and finding nothing in the edible line, had picked up the boot as a souvenir of the visit."

"They showed a total lack of common sense," said von Eitelwurmer.

"Now, if they had carried off the pair----"

"I should have had to return two boots instead of one," added his companion. "But here we are. We'll work up against the wind and keep the dogs to heel."

The sportsmen had gained the gently-sloping rise of Windyhill. It was the only side on which the ascent could be described as easy.

The ground was gra.s.s-grown and interspersed with cl.u.s.ters of bushes, although the cover was by no means extensive. At the foot of the rise flowed a small brook, which was crossed by a single plank.

Beyond a hedge somewhat of a rarity in the North--through which was a gap with a stile. From this point to the summit of the hill, a distance of nearly a mile, the only obstructions consisted of two rough stone walls running athwart the slope.

"We'll load after we're over the stile," said the cautious Peter.

"Be careful, there's quite a lot of snow under this hedge."

Von Eitelwurmer's answer was to slip and measure his length in the soft snow.

"Donner--dash it all!" he exclaimed, hastily checking the natural yet hitherto carefully avoided habit of forcibly expressing himself in the language that came easiest to the tip of his tongue-that of the Fatherland. "You're right, Barcroft. It is confoundedly slippery."

Picking up his gun that had fallen from his grasp the spy followed Barcroft over the stile. Here the two men loaded and Peter called the dogs to heel.

"Plenty of evidence that the bunnies are about," he remarked. "We'll keep twenty yards apart. I don't suppose we'll catch sight of a rabbit until we get to the bushes."

Stealthily and in silence the sportsmen approached the nearmost patch of cover. Suddenly, a startled rabbit broke away and ran down wind. Up went Peter's gun, and the next instant bunny was kicking on the ground.

"Why didn't you fire?" inquired Barcroft, as the two converged upon the spoil. "The animal was across your path."

"Why didn't I?" repeated von Eitelwurmer. "I did. That was my shot.

You didn't fire."

"But I did," declared Peter.

Both men ejected a still-smoking cartridge from their respective guns. They had fired simultaneously and the report had prevented each sportsman from hearing the other's shot.

"Honours even," cried the spy. "It was certainly remarkable."

"Very," agreed Barcroft as he reloaded.

The first enclosure produced no further trophy. Scaling the low wall the two men gained the second stretch of grazing land. Here the cover was slightly greater in extent.

"That's a favourite warren," said Barcroft, pointing to an irregular line of bushes. "You take the left side and I'll work round to the right. Ten to one you'll get a rattling good shot there. I'll keep the dogs with me."

The sportsmen separated. Von Eitelwurmer, treading softly and crouching under the bushes, allowed three rabbits to bolt almost under his nose. It was not through preoccupation of mind but by deliberate intent.

Once he stumbled over an exposed rock, and dropped his gun.

"That's the second time. This snow is dangerous," he muttered with a curse. "Is it an omen? And on the last occasion I nearly gave myself away."

He stopped to wipe some melting snow from the stock of his gun, wiping the walnut wood carefully in order to ensure a good grip; then still crouching, he continued his way.

Two shots rang out in quick succession on his right, then, after an instant, he saw Barcroft emerge from behind a bush and make for the next patch of cover.

"Twenty yards--absolutely safe, shots will hardly have time to spread," soliloquised the spy, giving a quick glance over his shoulder to see that there was no possibility of being overlooked from behind.

Then, setting his jaw firmly, he deliberately raised his gun to his shoulder, took careful aim at the back of the unsuspecting Peter and pressed the trigger.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

KIRKWOOD'S WINDFALL

"So you've turned up again like three bad halfpennies," remarked the Senior Officer of the base to which the "Hippodrome" was attached, as the three airmen reported themselves. "Did you have much difficulty in getting across the frontier?"

"Very little, sir," replied Fuller, who by virtue of his higher rank acted as spokesman for the trio. "Nothing to brag about. Had a little bother with a sentry guarding the electrically-charged wire on the Dutch frontier; but, while he was preparing to tackle Barcroft with the point of his bayonet, Kirkwood and I contrived to deal with him very effectually. The Hun, you see, sir, had provided himself with a combined hook and wire cutting arrangement with an insulated handle, and it came in jolly useful. That's about all, sir, and we are ready to rejoin our s.h.i.+p at the earliest opportunity."

"I am afraid that's out of the question for a week or ten days,"

replied the Rear Admiral. "The 'Hippodrome' is away on special service, and I won't run the risk of sending you away on a destroyer, bearing in mind your previous trip for the same reason.

The best thing you can do is to go on leave. You look as if a rest and a good feeding up will do you good. Should anything arise requiring your recall you will be sent for by wire, so hold yourselves in readiness for such a possibility."

The Senior Officer shook hands with the three subordinates and the interview was at an end.

"S'long, you fellows," exclaimed Fuller, when they were once more outside the Rear Admiral's office. "I'm catching the twelve-fifteen to Town. See you later."

"What are your plans, old man?" asked Billy, addressing the A.P.

"My plans? I haven't any," replied Kirkwood, who, having lost his parents early in life, had no home but that represented by His Majesty's s.h.i.+ps. "I could go to my uncle's place, but I'm not very keen, and I fancy the sentiment is reciprocated by him, although I am his heir. He's a lawyer, you know, and about as musty as parchment."

"Then run up with me to Tarleigh," said Billy cordially.

The A. P, was not one of those fellows who affect a ridiculous hesitation when given an invitation.

"Thanks, awfully, old man," he replied. "I'm on absolutely. Is there time to look in at the Naval Club? I expect letters awaiting me."

"Right-o!" a.s.sented Billy. "By the powers, 'tis good to find oneself in England after our little jaunt. Makes a fellow completely bucked, especially after a jolly good bath, fresh clothes and all that. Ugh!

Those togs we took from that barge!"

"Coming in?" inquired Kirkwood, as the pair arrived at the entrance of the Naval Club.

"No, not now," replied the flight-sub. "I'll go to the post office and send a wire to let my people know we are on the way. I'll pick you up at the station."