Frank had sped away because he was afraid that the officer might recognize him in a moment also. And yet it was not fear, in the sense that he was fearful of what might happen to him, that led him seemingly to abandon his comrade. It was the knowledge that were he too a prisoner, there would be no hope for either of them. He knew how the Germans must have regarded the destruction of the Zeppelins. It was a blow that might prove, when the final accounting was made, to have cost them the success of the invasion of France. And he had no illusions as to the fate of those who might be proved to be responsible for that.
Technically, they had not acted as spies when they had played the daring trick that had resulted in such a disaster to the German cause. But they had been non-combatants, civilians, and by the laws of war the civilian who takes active measures of any sort against the enemy is liable to death. The German army enforced this rule strictly and invariably. Neither age nor sex was a reason for sparing one who had violated it. A woman spy, a boy of fifteen who fired at Germans, would alike be made to face a firing squad.
No. If he and Henri were caught, and this officer, who had already shown his venomous hate for them, was their accuser, they would never live to see the German defeat for which they prayed. Frank hoped that Henri would understand, that he would know that he had taken to flight because it afforded the only chance of saving him.
Frank had reasoned quickly. He had been sure that the next move of the German officer would have been to denounce him also. But while the German officer had had a good look at Henri on the night of the Zeppelin disaster, he had not seen Frank. Frank had been in the shadow when the officer had tried to murder Henri; he had taken the German by surprise, and stunned him. And so there was no way in which the German could know him again, unless he saw him with Henri and so leaped to the conclusion that he must also have been with him on the night of disaster.
By that process of reasoning Frank argued that he might remain free to go about the town. The Germans had come to trust the Boy Scouts, understanding that their honor was pledged when they gave their word, even to an enemy. Some of the restrictions applying to the other citizens of Amiens did not restrain them. They were allowed to be on the streets after the hour of curfew, for one thing. And between the scouts and a good many of the German privates and younger officers a relation almost friendly had been established. Frank, for instance, was welcomed at one Bavarian mess, which contained several soldiers who had studied at English schools, and liked a chance to air their knowledge of the English tongue. He hoped to gain some information in this way.
Nor was he wrong. His friends had heard of the arrest of Henri, who, like Frank, was popular with them. And it turned out that they had little use for the officer who had caused the arrest. He was known as a tyrant who had more than once during the campaign shot down his own men for slight breaches of discipline. Frank learned that he had been degraded for the destruction of the Zeppelins, for which he had been held responsible. His superiors had scouted his story of two boys who had burned the dirigibles, and had assumed that he had been careless.
Therefore Frank found it easy to discover where Henri was confined. He was to be tried by court-martial early in the morning, and for the night he was in a room on the ground floor of the Hotel de Ville.
"He's only a boy," said a Bavarian corporal. "No need to guard him closely. Even if he escaped, where could he go? Our men are everywhere."
Frank smiled to himself. He had made a discovery a day or two before that had not escaped his mind. That afternoon he managed to make certain preparations unobserved. And when night came he was ready to hazard his own liberty, and his life, if that should prove to be necessary, in an attempt to rescue Henri. He knew the room in which Henri was confined. It was on the side of the Hotel de Ville that overlooked the river. No sentries were posted there, and it was easy for Frank to get to a spot directly underneath Henri's window. The other bank of the river was well guarded, and that was why no sentries watched the side on which was the town hall. It was argued, Frank supposed, that anyone escaping must attempt to swim the river and that when they tried to climb the other bank it would be easy to find them.
In principle, too, that was a good idea. What it did not take into account was the discovery that Frank had made—and kept to himself.
It was just before midnight when he began a faint tapping at Henri's window. He used a light bamboo cane, tipped with soft cloth, so that the sound, audible to anyone in the room, would not carry more than a few feet. And he tapped out his signal in the Morse code very slowly, knowing that Henri would hear and understand.
In a few moments there was the sound of the window opening very gently. And then Henri slipped down beside him, taking the short drop by hanging from the window with his hands. He seized Frank's hand.
"I knew you would try to help me," he whispered. "But I had better go back. We cannot escape. There are sentries on the other bank of the Somme. They would catch us together, and you would be a prisoner, too."
"Follow me," said Frank. "Take off your shoes. Drop quietly into the water—make no sound of a splash. Swim after me. I shall show you something you do not expect to see."
Frank slipped into the water. Both boys were expert swimmers, and Frank, leading the way, slipped along in the deep shadow, without a sound. Henri swam after him. At last Frank stopped and whispered to Henri.
"You see this buttress? Dive just beyond it, and swim under water for ten feet. Put up your hands then, and rise. There will be room."
At once he dived and disappeared, and Henri followed. When they came to the surface they were in a dark, damp hole, that smelled of slime and filth. But in a moment Henri felt steps, and then there was a faint light that illuminated a vault full of water. And, to his wonder, he saw a boat, covered, except at one end, with a dark cloth.
"In with you!" whispered Frank. "Under the cloth, and lie still!"
Frank followed when Henri had obeyed. And then the boat began to move in a direction different from that by which they had entered the vault.
"I am pushing it with my hands along the wall," explained Frank, still in a whisper. "That will bring us to the opening—the smallest possible that would allow the boat to pass into the stream. Then the current will carry us down. I have a rudder, that will hold us in the shadow of the left bank through all the turns. It is a chance—the only one we had. If all goes well, we shall drift down below the city and be safe!"
Soon they were caught in the current of the Somme. There followed a time of terrible and desperate trial and terror. At every shout they heard they thought they had been discovered. Never did they dare to raise their heads to look out. Their chance was a double one, but of the faintest, at best. Perhaps they would not be seen at all; perhaps, even if the boat was seen, no sentry would consider it worth remark.
For hours they drifted, unable to tell how far they had gone. Frank, guessing their distance by the time it had taken a piece of wood to float a certain distance during the afternoon, had hoped to be well beyond the city when daylight came. But he had not been certain.
Gradually a faint light crept through the dark, stifling cloth. The temptation to raise it and look out was terrible. But they resisted, speaking only occasionally in whispers. With every minute that passed their chance for success grew greater. And yet at the last minute they might be caught.
At last there could be no doubt that the sun was up, and that there was full daylight. And then, suddenly, there was a sharp tug at the boat. With a groan Frank started up, and Henri too.
And what they saw was an amazed French peasant, and all around the smiling country below Amiens, which was far behind!