# Air Service Boys Flying for France/Chapter 25

CHAPTER XXV
MENTIONED FOR PROMOTION—CONCLUSION
Tom rubbed his eyes as though he thought he must be dreaming; but when he looked again he saw the same evil face and mocking eyes. Fancy what Adolph Tuessig on his part must have thought on discovering who it was to whom he owed his latest misfortune!
"What! You?" he gasped in bewilderment.
Tom grasped the true significance of the great good fortune that had come to him. It transcended his wildest dreams. There could have been but one chance in a billion of those two meetings as they did; and yet a strange fate had indeed brought it to pass.
"I've come for that paper you stole from my father, Adolph Tuessig!" Tom exclaimed.
At hearing these words Jack came bustling around from the rear of the car, his eyes wide open, and round with wonder.
"Well I never!" he managed to gasp.
The man who had been so strangely brought to bay seemed in a half daze. He stared at Tom as though unable to grasp the thing that had happened.
​"Hand that paper over unless you want to give me the trouble of searching you!" ordered Tom firmly. "If I have to, I'll tear every stitch of your clothing off, to see if it's hidden under the lining somewhere. Do you hear what I'm saying?"
By degrees comprehension took the place of bewilderment on the man's face. He evidently realized that it was of little use trying to escape such a determined pursuer who could follow him even into the heart of hostile territory, and aboard an airplane at that. His courage deserted him, and he was ready to raise the white flag of surrender.
"I—I—haven't got—" he stammered.
"No nonsense, Tuessig! I want what you stole from my father. Hand it over, or I'll—" and Tom made a threatening gesture.
Adolph Tuessig shrank back. Evidently he was a coward at heart
"Yes, I have it here, so there is no need of your doing me any more bodily harm," he cried and gave a deep groan. "I'm bruised all over as it is, and may have received my death blow from this smash-up you drove me into."
"The paper first," Tom continued sternly. "After I have it in my hands I'll take a look at your hurts, and do anything I can to relieve your pain. Make haste, for we have yet far to go to get back home safely."
​The man commenced to fumble at a secret inside pocket. Tom watched him closely, and kept his automatic pistol always in sight, lest the treacherous Tuessig think to get the better of him. Tom had a poor opinion of the man, it must be remembered. He believed that any one who would do the work of a German spy in a neutral country, and who could steal into a private house and rob a safe, would not be above any rank treachery.
"There is the paper I took from your father, boy!" said the groaning man, as he held something out to Tom.
One look convinced the youth he had actually succeeded in securing the important part of his father's precious invention. He sighed with happiness as his fingers closed over the paper, which he instantly transferred to a safe pocket.
"It was never any good to me, as it proved," continued Adolph Tuessig. "In the interest of the Fatherland I hoped to get my hands on the rest of the design, sooner or later, and on that account kept carrying this around with me, for it was useless to give it over to my superiors, only to be reprimanded for failure. I am glad to be rid of it, for ever since that night I have run into hard luck."
His continued groans made Tom fear the other might be injured more seriously than up ​to that moment he had believed was the case.
"Jack, see if you can find some way to transfer that gas to our tank," he said at his chum. "I'll take a look at this man's hurts. Just at present there seems to be nothing in the way of danger around us, and we can spare a few minutes in the cause of humanity."
"You're treating him a hundred times better than he deserves," mumbled Jack. "If the tables were turned, and it was Tuessig who had you down, he'd never lift a finger to give you first-aid. But that's you, Tom, every time! I'll manage somehow to get this stuff aboard our plane, never fear."
So Tom hastened to look Adolph Tuessig over, being as gentle as the need of time would permit. He was soon satisfied that the other's injuries, while they might be exceedingly painful, were by no means mortal.
"You're going to come out of this fairly well," he told the man after completing his hasty but thorough examination. "There will be plenty of black and blue marks on your body, and your nose may never again be quite as shapely as it was, for I am sorry to tell you it is broken; but you've got lots to be thankful for. It might have been your neck, Adolph Tuessig."
Jack called out just then to explain that he ​had managed to get the contents of the tank into a can that had been thrown out of the car at the time of the collison; and in which it could be readily transported to the airplane.
So they left the man, still grunting and groaning and looking very miserable. Tom concluded he need have no further occasion to harbour ill feeling against such a wretch, who had been so thoroughly repaid for all the mischief he had done in the Raymond family.
The air service boys soon had the gasolene aboard and were ready to start. Jack ran ahead to examine the character of the ground, and reported it excellent. Indeed, once the start had been given to the propellers, and Jack clambered aboard so that the pilot could let go, they trundled over the ground, and tool to the air without difficulty.
Both felt relieved now that they had a chance to fly once more. First of all it was their policy to mount to a high level, where they could hope to pass unnoticed over numerous towns and villages that still lay in the route of the fighting front beyond the border.
Of course everything looked strange to them below. They could make out roads, and lines of rails over which laden trains were passing back and forth; but though Tom had a map of ​Western Germany with him he could not recognize a thing.
They were heading right, at any rate, and if allowed to proceed a certain distance would surely strike their objective, the line where the rival armies lay in their trenches.
Jack had also managed to stop the tiny leak in their tank before they arose, which would help them greatly in conserving their store of fuel. Neither of them knew how many miles they must fly before reaching a friendly zone. It might be fifty, and it might only be fifteen; but as long as a drop of gasolene remained in their tank they meant to push steadily on.
Fortune was again kind to them, for in time they realized that they were nearing the scene of warfare. The dense clouds of smoke in the distance told them this, in the first place, and later on they occasionally caught the dull concussion of the big guns that rocked the earth every time they were discharged.
Now came the most critical time of all for the two young aviators. If their arrival on the scene of action chanced to be noticed in time, a flock of eager Fokker pilots would rise to intercept them. It would be hard indeed if, after surmounting all the difficulties that had beset their way thus far, they should be shot down when in sight of their goal.
​Tom exercised due vigilance. At the same time he found himself gripped in a constant state of anxiety the nearer they drew to the battlelines.
Planes were in sight, many of them, and the sausage-shaped observation balloons swayed to and fro in double lines well back of the front. Tom endeavored to pick his way along carefully. He had Jack using the glass and searching the heavens to make out the identity of every machine in sight.
As before, it turned out that the nimble Nieuports were the ones doing "ceiling work," while far below a German, defended by a flock of aviatiks, was pushing forward, evidently intending to take a look at what the French were doing.
The strain was soon over. Down came several of the guard planes, after recognizing one of their own machines in the clumsy Caudron. Tom saw that the entire trio had the familiar Indian head painted on the body of the machines, showing that they were Americans. They knew of the absence of the two young airmen and were delighted to see them turn up after they had been given over as lost.
And so in due time Tom made as neat a landing in his own field as any veteran could have done, amid the cheers of scores and scores ​of pilots, mechanicians and French soldiers, who came running like mad when they saw who was dropping from the skies.
Although utterly exhausted and almost frozen after their bitter experience, Tom and Jack could not retreat until they had shaken hands with dozens of the noisy throng that surrounded them. After that they were at least no longer cold, for their fingers had been squeezed, and hearty slaps laid on their backs by the excited aviators.
When later on they told their story, modestly enough, to be sure, and Tom held up the precious paper which he had recovered in such a miraculous fashion, they received a perfect ovation from the crowd.
Then, one day later on, the boys discovered to their great astonishment, and delight as well, that they had been cited in the Orders of the Day, each being awarded the coveted Croix de Guerre, and Tom being advanced to the grade of corporal in the French service, which for one so young was a very high honor indeed.
Of course, Tom took advantage of the first opportunity that arose to write a long account of their adventure and send it home, also enclosing the precious paper, after taking a copy of it to hold in case the original was lost in the mails. It may be said in passing that in due ​time Mr. Raymond received this letter with its welcome enclosure, and never ceased to marvel at the remarkable manner in which his son had recovered the lost document.
After they had recovered from their strenuous journey the two young aviators were more than ever anxious for continued service. The taste of peril had sharpened their appetites, it seemed, and made them eager to meet with further exciting experiences in their chosen work.
All the members of the famous escadrille were very fond of the boys, and each seemed to deem it a privilege to coach them in the thousand and one problems that daily confront a war aviator.
Jack sometimes was seen to muse, as though his thoughts had taken a backward flight. Tom imagined he might be thinking of those at home, and once even exhibited more or less sympathy for his chum, when, to his surprise, and also amusement, Jack unblushingly admitted that the one he was thinking of chanced to be pretty little Bessie Gleason.
"It's a queer thing, Tom," he remarked, when the other chuckled, "but somehow I find myself wondering whether I'll ever run across that girl and her stern guardian again. Since you played in such great luck and pounced on Adolph Tuessig in such a remarkable way, ​perhaps, who knows, I may find myself face to face with Bessie one of these days. Anyhow, I hope so."
"You never can tell," was all Tom would say in reply; and yet, if you read the second volume of this series, entitled "The Air Service Boys Over the Enemy's Lines; or, The German Spy's Secret," you will find that not only did Jack have his wish realized, but that a fresh and most astonishing array of thrilling happenings overtook the two chums while they were still "flying for France."
THE END.