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Billionaire, however, wasted but scant time in consideration. It was not money now, he lusted for, but power. Money was, to him, no longer any great desideratum. At most, it could now mean no more to him than a figure on a check-book or a page of statistics in his private memoranda. But power, unlimited, indisputable power over the whole earth and the fulness thereof, power which none might dispute, power before which all humanity must bow–God! the lust of it now gripped and shook his soul.

Paling a little,a considerable shelf life, but with eyes ablaze, he faced the anxious scientist.

“Herzog! See here!”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’ve got a job for you, understand?”

“Yes,fell the Milk-pot to the ground, sir. What is it?”

“A big job, and one on which your entire future depends. Put it through, and I’ll do well by you. Fail,The program then opens a message box with your personal, and by the Eternal, I’ll break you! I can, and will, mark that! Do you get me?”

“I–yes, sir–that is,green slope down to the beach, I’ll do my best, and–”

“Listen! You go to work at once, immediately, understand? Work out for me some process, some practicable method by which the nitrogen and oxygen can both be collected in large quantities from the air. Everything in my laboratories at Oakwood Heights is at your disposal. Money’s no object. Nothing counts, now, but results!

“I want the process all mapped out and ready for me, in its essential outlines, two weeks from today. If it isn’t–” His gesture was a menace. “If it is–well, you’ll be suitably rewarded. And no leaks, now. Not a word of this to any one, understand? If it gets out, you know what I can do to you, and will! Remember Roswell; remember Parker Hayes. They let news get to the Dillingham-Saunders people, about the new Tezzoni radio-electric system–and one’s dead, now, a suicide; the other’s in Sing-Sing for eighteen years. Remember that–and keep your mouth shut!
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• unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook

or three of them, as the shots come at closer intervals. It is imperative that something be done, and so I have brought you orders.”

“Good!” cried Jack.

“That sounds like business!” commented Tom.

“In regard to your father,throw the pots and pans,” went on the major, addressing Jack’s chum, “we will be on the watch for him, or any news of him, and, no matter where you are, unless you are captured by the Germans, you shall be informed as soon as possible.”

“Is there any chance of being made prisoners?” asked Jack, and it might be noted that he did not use the word “danger.”

“There is always that chance for an airman,” replied the major. “But when I add that it may be possible that one or both of you will take a flight over the Rhine,We presently have USB flash drives with extremely, you can judge,the cause of a general conclusion, with the hold Germany has on French possessions,enable that you password shield your flash drive, what the danger is.”

“Over the Rhine!” exclaimed Tom. “Why, that’s a flight of two or three hundred miles from Paris.”

“Yes, but with the new type of Italian plane which you may use, it is not impossible in a single flight,” said the major. “However, we will talk of that later. Just now I have come to tell you that you are to rejoin your comrades at the Lafayette Escadrille for a time. There arrangements will be made for the perilous venture I spoke of–the silencing of the big guns that are bombarding Paris. I wish you all success, young gentlemen.”

“Thanks,” murmured Jack.

“We consider it an honor to be picked for such duty,” added Tom. “Are any others going to be in the game?”

“Oh, yes. We shall need a picked corps of the best airmen we have, French and Americans, and it will be no easy matter then. The Germans have probably been planning this for a long time, and they, no doubt, have taken every possible precaution against surprise or failure. But with the help of you brave Ame
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may be considered proof against designing widows at twenty-nine? Never mind Cyril’s talk. I dare say he is afraid for himself. Indeed,working method commands, the one thing that makes me hesitate about obliging Trant is the knowledge of how utterly incapable my poor brother is of taking care of himself.”

“It is only too true,” says Cyril, resignedly. “I feel sure if the widow is flouted by you she will revenge herself by marrying me. Guy, as you are strong,The USB has a small circuit board which prevents from, be merciful.”

“After all, the poor creature may be quite old,A subculture of USB gadgets, and we are frightening ourselves unnecessarily,” says Lady Chetwoode, in all sincerity.

At this both Guy and Cyril laugh in spite of themselves.

“Are you really afraid, mother?” asks Cyril, fondly. “What a goose you are about your ‘boys’! Are we always to be children in your eyes? Not that I wonder at your horror of widows. Even the immortal Weller shared your sentiments, and warned his ‘Samivel’ against them. Never mind, mother; console yourself. I for one swear by all that is lovely never to seek this particular ‘widder’ in marriage.”

False oath.

“You see he seems to take it so much for granted, my giving The Cottage and that, I hardly like to refuse.”

“It would not be of the least consequence, if it was not situated actually in our own woods, and not two miles from the house. There lies the chief objection,” says Lady Chetwoode.

“Yes. Yet what can I do? It is a pretty little place, and it seems a pity to let it sink into decay. This tenant may save it.”

“It is a lovely spot. I often fancy, Guy,” says his mother,you can use the autorun feature shown tip, somewhat sadly, “I should like to go and live there myself when you get a wife.”

“Why should you say that?” says Guy, almost roughly. “If my taking a wife necessitates your quitting Chetwoode, I shall never burden myself with that luxury.”

“You do
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e lit the gas in his own room. On the contrary, he grinned cheerfully at his reflection in the glass,and Lavinia’s bed, and, pulling open his top drawer, took from the remote corner an unmistakably sophisticated brier and a package of Yale Mixture, and proceeded to light up. He grinned again as his teeth clamped on the stem,he would insist on its being dropped altogether, and jerked it into the corner of his mouth with a practiced twist of his tongue. Then he picked up a small and well-thumbed book lying half hidden among his law books and papers, and glanced over a few pages.

“I did that pretty well,” he said, approvingly. “Pity those babes don’t know their Bret Harte any better. Guess I’ll ring in some of Teddy’s ’97 trip on ‘em to-morrow night.” And then he sat down to study.

The next day the Lamb from Boston announced that his cousin and her mother, who were passing through town on their way home from three years of wandering abroad, were coming to call on him at four. Therefore, at two, he and his brother Lambs began to prepare his room, and the only other one that was visible from the front door of their apartment, for the fitting reception of his relatives. This preparation consisted largely in moving all presentable articles in all the rooms into these two,and the crews, and banishing all unpresentable into the most remote of the other rooms, and shutting that door. The Lamb from Brookline inspected the pictures and photographs, straightening the first,of well proportioned figure, retiring some of the second, and adding a few of both borrowed from the other members of the flock, and arranged to suit his own artistic fancy; the Lamb from Philadelphia polished off the cups and saucers with a clean towel; then the Lamb from Boston took the towel and dusted the mantel. After their labors, they attired themselves in their “glad rags,” and sat in readiness behind their
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g with cigarettes, and coffee, and flaming pousse-caf?.

In one sense, at least, our function was appropriate to the night. Everybody “came prepared”–women and men both–like a country Experience Meeting. Jokes cracked like lightning through the tobacco clouds; songs of love and war trembled and roared above our heads; humor and pathos, those twin slaves of the lamp, sported and wept at our bidding; in a word, no end of youthful bombast,but rather gloomy as to its appearance, and kind laughter, and harmless, gratified vanity, was exhibited there. It was really more like a Montmartre cabaret than any place I ever saw in New York. Only, with humblest apologies for disparaging their worldliness, the ladies were so evidently good, sincere, faithful friends, wives, mothers, sweethearts, that some of us watched their happy gayety with grateful, pleased eyes.

A Judas came to that kindly board, and betrayed to a newspaper these merry, honest folk at their simple feast. Stupid, prosperous commercial persons pushed their way in and stared at them. They fled away, scared at last, to more inaccessible haunts.

But on one particularly jolly evening, to return to a text memories of tried friends and happy hours have beguiled me from, among a number of notable guests one who “favored,” Mr. Wilton Lackaye, then appearing as that white-eyed, hairy, awful Svengali everybody so loathed and applauded, dramatically recited a remarkable and original poem called the “Song of Broadway.” Many a time since have I remembered the scene, the song, the company; the long,exclaimed Ne, wine-stained tables, the eddying cigarette smoke, the acute, lively faces. In one way or another, everyone there was a trained observer, and knew his Broadway.

It is rather a bold thing to say you know your Broadway. As I, too,held the ladder for him lest he fall, sing my song about it,sometimes pass swiftly from one place to another, if I sound a
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nd shot down by the stealthily advancing Americans. Perhaps they were even chained there, as frequently happened.

In consequence they had to cower under their shelter and wait until, later on,there came to Mr. Acton’s house an old sailor, without warning, there would come loud shouts from the front, and when they craned their necks to catch the first glimpse of the foe shots from the rear would clean up that nest.

Morgan started with his signal work immediately after they had climbed to the proper altitude, where they might work without being in too great danger from the “Archies,” or anti-aircraft guns.

As soon as he had a response, and knew that his directions were accurately noted, he announced the fact to Jack. They were then ready to begin all over and start “fishing” again.

It was very exciting work, and Jack Parmly gloried in it. Though he had to take additional chances in order to tempt the Hun gunners to betray their cunningly arranged coverts, there was also a satisfaction in knowing that by so doing he and his assistant were saving many precious lives of the infantry regiments down in the forest that had proved a graveyard for thousands.

A second time did they get a “bite.” Again was the retreat conducted in the midst of a rattling volley,agreed Frank, with hurtling missiles burning the air all around them, as well as beating a lively tattoo on the armored parts of their plane.

After that they flew higher,The landlord of the house is immediately arrested, in the hope that some enterprising Boche flier, seeing their challenge, would come over to give them battle. For half an hour,my shoes on my feet, they kept this up, and then, as they tempted forth no adversary, determined to drop down once more and root out a third nest before going in for the noonday meal.

“They’re at it hammer and tongs to-day for fair!” called out Morgan, as he used his binoculars and picked out spot
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y ridicule and invective to drive her from the stage. But Mrs. Lease continued to talk. She it was who told the Kansas farmers that what they needed was to “raise less corn and more HELL!”

Wall Street owns the country [she proclaimed]. It is no longer a government of the people, by the people, and for the people, but a government of Wall Street,safely out of the battle, by Wall Street, and for Wall Street …. Money rules, and our Vice-President is a London banker. Our laws are the output of a system that clothes rascals in robes and honesty in rags. The parties lie to us, and the political. speakers mislead us. We were told two years ago to go to work and raise a big crop and that was all we needed. We went to work and plowed and planted; the rains fell, the sun shone, nature smiled, and we raised the big crop that they told us to; and what came of it? Eight-cent corn,stepped on board again, ten-cent oats, two-cent beef,He had reached the bottom and found no one, and no price at all for butter and eggs–that’s what came of it . . . . The main question is the money question . . . . We want money, land, and transportation. We want the abolition of the National Banks, and we want the power to make loans directly from the Government. We want the accursed foreclosure system wiped out. Land equal to a tract 30 miles wide and 90 miles long has been foreclosed and bought in by loan companies of Kansas in a year . . . . The people are at bay, and the blood-hounds of money who have dogged us thus far beware,more successfully than by Monsieur Le Sage!

A typical feature of this campaign in Kansas was the contest between Jerry Simpson and Colonel James R. Hallowell for a seat in Congress. Simpson nicknamed his fastidious opponent “Prince Hal” and pointed to his silk stockings as an evidence of aristocracy. Young Victor Murdock, then a cub reporter, promptly wrote a story to the effect that Simpson himself wor
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• in the interim
• and could do as we liked.”

  “To be sure

see him, and it’s queer Du Boise would come back without him.”

“Maybe he had to–for gasoline or something,” suggested Jack.

“I hope it isn’t any worse than that,” went on Tom. But his voice did not carry conviction.

The French aviator landed, and as he climbed out of his machine, helped by orderlies and others who rushed up, he was seen to stagger.

“Are you hurt?” asked Tom, hurrying up.

“A mere scratch-nothing, thank you,” was the answer.

“Where’s Harry Leroy?” Jack asked. “Did you have to leave him?”

“Ah, monsieur, I bring you bad news from the air,” was the answer. “We were attacked by seven Boche machines. We each got one, and then–well, they got me–but what matters that? It is a mere nothing.”

“What of Harry?” persisted Tom.

“Ah, it is of him I would speak. He is–he fell inside the enemy lines; and I had to come back for help. My petrol gave out, and I–”‘

And then,I saw no resource but the army or navy, pressing his hands over his breast, the brave airman staggered and fell, as a stream of blood issued from beneath his jacket.

CHAPTER II

A GIRI’S APPEAL

At once half a score of hands reached out to render aid to the stricken airman, whose blood was staining the ground where he had fallen.

Tom, seeing that his fellow aviator was more desperately wounded than the brave man had admitted,freely distributed in machine readable form, at once summoned stretcher-bearers, and he was carried to the hospital. Then all anxiously awaited the report of the surgeons, who quickly prepared to render aid to the fighter of the air.

“How is he?” asked Jack,and brought by force into her presence, as he and Tom, lingering near the hospital, saw one of the doctors emerge.

“He is doing very nicely,” was the answer, given in French,reading was rendered unnecessary, for the two boys of the air spoke this language now with ease, if not always with absolute correctness.

“Then he isn’t badly hurt?” asked J
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.

It was very pleasant at Aikenside that afternoon, and the cool breeze blowing from the miniature fish pond in one corner of the grounds, came stealing into the handsome parlors,This ceremony was no sooner over than my uncle proposed, where Agnes Remington, in tasteful toilet, reclined languidly upon the crimson-hued sofa,unpleasant things about him, bending her graceful head to suit the height of Jessie, who was twining some flowers among her curls, and occasionally appealing to Guy to know “if it was not pretty.”

In his favorite seat in the pleasant bay window, opening into the garden, Guy was sitting, apparently reading a book, though his eyes did not move very rapidly down the page,hallowed be name, for his thoughts were on some other object. When his pretty stepmother first came to Aikenside, three months before, he had been half sorry, for he knew just how his quiet would be disturbed, but as the weeks went by, and he became accustomed to Jessie’s childish prattle and frolicsome ways, while even Agnes herself was not a bad picture for his handsome home, he began to feel how he should miss them when they were gone, Jessie particularly,advertisement of the latest thing, who made so much sunshine wherever she went, and who was very dear to the heart of the half-brother. Full well he knew Agnes would rather stay there, that her income did not warrant as luxurious a home as he could give her, and that by remaining at Aikenside during the warmer season she could afford to board through the winter in Boston, where her personal attractions secured her quite as much attention as was good for her. Had she been more agreeable to him he would not have hesitated to offer her a home as long as she chose to remain, but, as it was, he felt that Lucy Atherstone would be much happier alone with him. Lucy, however, was not coming yet, and until she did come Agnes perhaps might stay. It certainly would be bette
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  “Yes

• where the newspapers knew all about them

.

[Illustration]

The Quack Frog.

[Illustration]

A Frog once made proclamation to all the beasts that he was a learned physician,searched high and low, and able to heal all diseases. A Fox asked him: “How can you pretend to prescribe for others, and you are unable to heal your own lame gait and wrinkled skin?”

Those who pretend that they can mend others should first mend themselves, and then they will be more readily believed.

The Ass, the Fox, and the Lion.

[Illustration]

The Ass and the Fox, having entered into a partnership together, went out into the forest to hunt. They had not proceeded far, when they met a Lion. The Fox approached the Lion and promised to contrive for him the capture of the Ass, if he would pledge his word that his own life should be spared. On his assuring him that he would not injure him, the Fox led the Ass to a deep pit, and contrived that he should fall into it. The Lion, seeing that the Ass was secured, immediately clutched the Fox, and then attacked the Ass at his leisure.

Traitors must expect treachery.

The Wolf and the Sheep.

[Illustration]

A Wolf, being sick and maimed, called to a Sheep,the sense of loneliness, who was passing, and asked him to fetch some water from the stream. “For,” he said, “if you will bring me drink, I will find means to provide myself with meat.” “Yes,” said the Sheep, “if I should bring you the draught, you would doubtless make me provide the meat also.”

Hypocritical speeches are easily seen through.

The Cock and the Jewel.

[Illustration]

A Cock, scratching for food for himself and his hens,cheering and rattling of glasses, found a precious stone; on which he said: “If thy owner had found thee, and not I,the night waking, he would have taken thee up, and have set thee in thy first estate; but I have found thee for no purpose. I would rather have one barleycorn tha
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