"And this set of big bar locks above and below the padlock were cut
the same way."
"I always said we should have had one of those rolling iron screens,
fitting solidly into the ends of the side walls and rolling up into
the roof," groaned Bob, passing on into the interior. "But what's the
use locking the barn after the horse is stolen." Disconsolately he
moved around the interior of the shed, as if expecting to find
concealed somewhere the airplane which he could not yet bring himself
to believe had been stolen.
Suddenly he let out a whoop. "Frank, look at this."
"Great Scott, an Iron Cross," cried Frank, seizing the object held
out. A German Iron Cross it was. "And here you can see how this ribbon
frayed through and parted from the clasp," added Frank.
"Turn it over," said Bob. "If it's a real one given by the Kaiser it
will have the recipient's name on it."
Sure enough, there it was:
"Ober-Lieutenant Frederik von Arnheim."
And beneath was inscribed:
"Pour le merite."
"Great Scott, Bob," said Frank. "What do you make of this?"
"Some Hun officer stole our airplane," said Bob. "That's what I make
of it."
"But the war is over," protested Frank.
"Maybe it is," said Bob darkly.
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