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diff --git a/old/54056-0.txt b/old/54056-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b75cb84..0000000 --- a/old/54056-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5924 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Clouds for Uncle Sam, by Ashton Lamar - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: In the Clouds for Uncle Sam - or, Morey Marshall of the Signal Corps - -Author: Ashton Lamar - -Illustrator: S. H. Riesenberg - -Release Date: January 26, 2017 [EBook #54056] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE CLOUDS FOR UNCLE SAM *** - - - - -Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - The Aeroplane Boys Series - - - In the Clouds for Uncle Sam - - OR - - Morey Marshall of the Signal Corps - - - - -The Aeroplane Boys Series - -By ASHTON LAMAR - - I IN THE CLOUDS FOR UNCLE SAM - Or, Morey Marshall of the Signal Corps. - - II THE STOLEN AEROPLANE - Or, How Bud Wilson Made Good. - - III THE AEROPLANE EXPRESS - Or, The Boy Aeronaut’s Grit. - - IV THE BOY AERONAUTS’ CLUB - Or, Flying For Fun. - - V A CRUISE IN THE SKY - Or, The Legend of the Great Pink Pearl. - - VI BATTLING THE BIG HORN - Or, The Aeroplane in the Rockies. - -OTHER TITLES TO FOLLOW - -These stories are the newest and most up-to-date. All aeroplane details -are correct. Fully illustrated. Colored frontispiece. Cloth, 12mos. - -Price, 60 cents each. - - -The Airship Boys Series - -By H. L. SAYLER - - I THE AIRSHIP BOYS - Or, The Quest of the Aztec Treasure. - - II THE AIRSHIP BOYS ADRIFT - Or, Saved by an Aeroplane. - - III THE AIRSHIP BOYS DUE NORTH - Or, By Balloon to the Pole. - - IV THE AIRSHIP BOYS IN THE BARREN LANDS - Or, The Secret of the White Eskimos. - - V THE AIRSHIP BOYS IN FINANCE - Or, The Flight of the Flying Cow. - - VI THE AIRSHIP BOYS’ OCEAN FLYER - Or, New York to London in Twelve Hours. - -These thrilling stories deal with the wonderful new science of aerial -navigation. Every boy will be interested and instructed by reading -them. Illustrated. Cloth binding. Price, $1.00 each. - - -The above books are sold everywhere or will be sent postpaid on receipt -of price by the - - Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago - -_Complete catalog sent, postpaid on request_ - - - - -[Illustration: MOREY HITS THE MARK.] - - - - - In The Clouds - For Uncle Sam - - OR - - Morey Marshall of the Signal Corps - - BY - - ASHTON LAMAR - - [Illustration: _The - AEROPLANE - BOYS - SERIES_ - - REG. U. S. PAT. OFF.] - - Illustrated by S. H. Riesenberg - - - Chicago - The Reilly & Britton Co. - Publishers - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1910, - by - THE REILLY & BRITTON CO. - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - - IN THE CLOUDS FOR UNCLE SAM - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAP. PAGE - I AN EARLY MORNING GALLOP 1 - II BREAKFAST ON THE GALLERY 12 - III MOREY MEETS A FELLOW FISHERMAN 24 - IV A SECRET AMBITION REVEALED 37 - V A VISIT OF CEREMONY 48 - VI MOREY LEARNS HE IS A BANKRUPT 59 - VII AN EXCITING INTERVIEW 72 - VIII A CONSULTATION WITH AN ATTORNEY 84 - IX THE SECRET OF AN OLD DESK 98 - X AMOS BECOMES A SANCHO PANZA 110 - XI MOREY MAKES AMOS A NOTE 120 - XII THE RUNAWAYS DISCOVERED 133 - XIII ARRIVAL AT FORT MEYER 145 - XIV A SCREW LOOSE 156 - XV TWO IRONS IN THE FIRE 169 - XVI THE SIGNAL CORPS CAMP IN THE MOUNTAINS 181 - XVII THE AEROPLANE AS A WAR MACHINE 193 - XVIII SERGEANT MARSHALL OUTWITS MAJOR CAREY 202 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - Morey hits the mark _Frontispiece_ - - Amos struggled to free himself 31 - - Morey ran from the office 93 - - Mr. Wright sprang forward 159 - - - - -In the Clouds for Uncle Sam - -OR - -Morey Marshall of the Signal Corps - - - - -CHAPTER I - -AN EARLY MORNING GALLOP. - - -“Hey dar, come along. What’s detainin’ yo’ all?” - -Two boys, one, a gaunt, long-legged, barefooted colored lad, mounted on -a lean mule, and the other a white lad, knees in and bestriding a fat, -puffing, sway-backed mare, came dashing down a country road in Virginia. - -“You black rascal!” panted the white rider, “what d’you mean? Pull up!” - -“I cain’t,” shouted the boy on the mule. “Ole Jim’s got de bit.” - -“Bit?” muttered the other rider, noticing the mule’s rope halter and -smiling. “I reckon Amos wants a race.” - -Loosening his worn and dingy reins the white boy drew himself -together, took a fresh grip on an old fashioned riding crop and spoke -to his mount. - -“You ain’t goin’ to take the dust from a common mule, are you, Betty?” - -As if she understood, the laboring mare, already wet with foam, and -with nostrils throbbing, sprang forward. - -“Out of the way!” shouted her rider. His light hair lay flat on his -bare head and his arms were close by his side. “Mules off the road for -the old hunter!” - -Like a flash the boy on the mare passed the plunging, clattering old -Jim and his humped-up rider. But only for a moment. Proud Betty, once -the pride of the late Colonel Aspley Marshall, the hunter that took the -dust from nothing in western Virginia, had seen her day. Old Jim came -on like an avalanche. - -“Cain’t stop dis beas’, Marse Morey. Git outen de way, Marse Morey, -we’s needin’ de road.” - -Hanging about the neck of the mule, Amos, the colored boy, opened his -mouth, flashing a row of white teeth on Morey’s sight. The young rider -knew that Amos was laughing at him. He set his square jaw and leaned -forward over the old hunter’s neck. - -“Betty,” he whispered, patting the soft, silken coat of his laboring -animal, “for the honor of the stable we used to own--_go it_!” - -And Betty tried--her nostrils now set, her head and neck forward, and -the light young rider firm but easy in his seat. - -“Can’t hold him, eh?” shouted Betty’s rider as the mule drew alongside. - -Amos was digging his bare heels into old Jim’s ribbed sides and lashing -like mad with the end of his bridle rope. - -Morey saw that he was beaten in a flat race, but he did not surrender. - -“Race you to the barn,” he cried as Amos’ kicks and lashing forced the -plow mule once more to the front, “and over the front gate.” - -“No sah! No sah!” trailed back from Amos. “Dis ain’t no fox hunt. Dis -am a plain hoss race. Not ober de gate.” - -“The first one over the gate,” insisted the white boy, now falling well -behind. - -Amos turned but he did not show his teeth. - -“Look hyar, Marse Morey! What you talkin’ ’bout? Dat ole Betty ain’t -jumped no gate sence you all’s pa died. Yo’ll break yo’ fool neck.” - -Morey only smiled. The two animals beat the hard highway with their -flying feet. - -“Yo’ all’s on’y jokin’, Marse Morey,” pleaded the alarmed colored boy, -as the racing steeds came to the dirt road leading through what was -left of the Marshall estate, and headed toward the ramshackle old gate -a quarter of a mile away. The dust rolled behind the galloping horse -and mule. Amos turned and shouted again: - -“Pull up dat ole plug. She cain’t jump a feed box. Yo’ all gwine break -bofe yo’ necks.” - -The only answer was a wave of Morey’s riding crop and a toss of the -smiling boy’s head. - -“Out of our way, boy!” sang out Morey. “Over the gate--” - -“Hey, Marse Morey! Hey dar! Take yo’ ole race. I’s jes’ jokin’. I -ain’t racin’ no mo’,” and throwing himself backwards on old Jim the -frightened Amos pulled out of the race. But Betty, the stiff and -crippled old hunter, had her mettle up, and Morey made no effort to -stop her. With a laugh and a wave of his hand at the alarmed colored -boy as he dashed by, the cool young white lad gave the proud mare her -head. - -At the half-broken gate the trembling animal, throwing off for a -moment the stiffness of years, came to a mincing pause, gathered her -fore feet beneath her and rose. Up in the air went Morey’s hands and -his father’s old crop as Betty’s fore feet cleared the top panel. -Then--crash! On the uncut grass of the door yard tumbled horse and -rider. - -“I tol’ yo’! I tol’ yo’!” shouted Amos as Betty struggled clumsily to -her feet. “Marse Morey,” he added, rolling from old Jim’s back, “is yo’ -hurted?” - -There was a dash of red on the white cheek of the prostrate Morey but -in another moment he was on his feet. - -“I ain’t hurt, you rascal, but the next time you turn that old plow -plug loose against Betty I’ll break your black head.” - -“Yas sah, yas sah,” snickered Amos. “She sho’ was gwine some!” - -“Rub Betty down and then give her a quart of oats.” - -“Yo’ mean turn her in de fiel’!” - -“Has she been fed this morning?” - -“Dey ain’t no oats. We’s out ob oats.” - -“Tell your father to order some.” - -“I reckon he done ordah cawn an’ oats but dey’s slow bringin’ ’em. -Dey’s slow all de time. I done been borrowin’ oats offen Majah Carey.” - -“Well,” exclaimed Morey proudly, “don’t you borrow any more oats from -Major Carey!” - -“Why,” exclaimed Amos, “we been gittin’ fodder offen’ Majah Carey all -winter--all de while yo’ been to school. Dey’s so slow bringin’ oats -from town dey don’t never git hyar.” - -“Did my mother tell you to go to the Carey’s for horse feed?” - -“Fo’ de lan’ sake, chile! you don’ reckon my ole pap gwine to bodder -Miss Marshall ’bout oats and cawn! He jes’ tells me to go git ’em and I -done go git ’em.” - -A peculiar look came into the face of Amos’ young master. But Morey -said nothing. Waving his hand to the solemn-faced colored boy to care -for the animals, he started across the long, fragrant June grass thick -about the dingy plantation home. - -But trouble sat lightly on Morey Marshall. Before he and the shambling -Amos were many feet apart the young Virginian paused and gave an old -familiar soft whistle. The slow-footed colored boy stopped instantly, -and then, as Betty wandered at will into a new flower bed and the lean -mule walked with ears drooped towards the distant horse sheds, Amos -hurried to Morey’s side. - -“Amos,” said Morey, “are you busy this morning?” - -The colored boy looked at his white companion in open amazement. - -“I said,” repeated Morey, “are you _busy_ this morning?” - -Amos was not exactly quick-witted, but, in time, with great mental -effort, he figured out that this must be a joke. - -A sparkle slowly came into his wide-set eyes and then his long, hollow -face grew shorter as his cheeks rounded out. His lips parted in a -curved slit and his white teeth shone. He laughed loudly. - -“I reckon I’s gwine be purty busy. Ma’m Ca’line done tole me to sarch -de hen’s nes’. On’y,” and he scratched his kinky head, “on’y I ain’t -had no time yit to git de aiggs.” - -“Well, I’ll help you with that. How many hens are there now?” - -“Fo’. But one’s a rooster.” - -“How many eggs do we get a day?” - -“Ebery day two--sometimes. Des’ fo’ yo’ ma’s breakfus’.” - -It was Morey’s turn to laugh. - -“Pa’s done made ’rangements to lend us six pullets from Majah Carey.” - -“To borrow six hens?” - -“Sho’. We done borrow’ chickens mos’ ob de time--fo’ de aiggs. But we -don’t keep ’em. We always takes ’em back--mostly.” - -“Mostly?” roared Morey. - -“Shorely,” explained Amos soberly. “We’s pa’ticlar ’bout dat. But -we done et one of Captain Barber’s ole hens. She was too fat an’ -lazy--didn’t git us one aigg.” - -“Was this all for my mother?” queried Morey, his face clouding again. - -“Yo’ ma don’ know nothin’ ’bout de critters. Pa, he paid Captain Barber -fo’ de ole hen we et.” - -“That’s right.” - -“Yas sah, yas sah. I done took him a dozen aiggs ma sef. Wha’ fo’ yo’ -laffin’, boy? Da’s right.” - -“What I wanted to know is, have you time to go fishing this morning? -How about that trout hole up at the bend of the creek?” - -Amos’ smile gleamed again like a white gash. - -“Ole Julius Cæsar, de king trout? Ain’t nobody cotch him yit. But he’s -got ’bout a million chilluns. Say, boy,” whispered the colored lad, -“I done reckon Miss Marshall had her breakfus’ by dis’ time. An’ dem -aiggs ain’t gwine to spile whar dey is. I’s git yo’ ol’ rod and yo’ -ol’ flies, an’ say, I’s got one dat ah made mase’f. Dat fly’s fo’ ol’ -Julius Cæsar an’ you. Say,” he concluded, looking wisely into the clear -blue unclouded sky and wrinkling his sober brow, “I spec’s we bes’ be -gwine ’long. Pears to me like rain.” - -“I’ll meet you in a half hour by the tobacco shed,” exclaimed Morey. - -Again Amos’ brow lowered and he shook his head. - -“Ain’t yo’ ma tol’ you?” he asked. - -“Told me what?” - -“Dey ain’t no shed no mo’.” - -“No shed!” exclaimed Morey, looking quickly toward the far end of the -old plantation. “Why, what’s become of it?” - -“Captain Barber, he done tote it away.” - -“Captain Barber moved it away? Why, what right has he on my mother’s -place?” - -“I dunno. But he tooked it away.” - -“When?” exclaimed Morey excitedly. - -“When?” repeated Amos. “Da’s when he fit pa and call him ‘ol’ fashion -nigger better wake up.’” - -Morey caught the colored boy by the shoulders. - -“I didn’t know your father ever had a fight with our neighbor.” - -“Not ezackly no fight, kase Captain Barber he wouldn’t do nothin’ but -laugh.” - -“But what was it all about?” - -“Pap done call him a liar.” - -“Your pap ought to be hided. Captain Barber is a white man.” - -“Yas sah, yas sah. But he _is_ a liar.” - -Morey smiled again. - -“Do you know what he lied about?” he asked. - -Amos drew himself up in indignation. - -“Didn’ he go fo’ to say he bought de’ ole fiel’ whar de baccy shed was? -An’ ain’t dat a big lie? Yo’ ma owns all dis ole plantation ’case pap -says she do. But he tooked de house. He ain’t buy dat lan’, is he?” -concluded the simple colored boy. - -Morey stood in deep thought. But at last, his voice quavering, he said: - -“I don’t know, Amos--I hope not.” - -Morey had returned home that morning after a winter in school at -Richmond and a visit to his uncle in New York State. To him the old -house appeared much the same, and his mother was in no wise changed. -With her he had as yet had no talk over the affairs of the plantation -and, after his morning coffee, he had hurried with Amos to the -village two miles away on an errand. The hints that Amos had dropped -unconsciously startled him, but the sky was blue, the air was soft, -there was the smell of mint in the neglected grass and he was but -eighteen years old. - -“Meet me where the barn used to be,” he exclaimed suddenly and, turning -ran toward the house. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -BREAKFAST ON THE GALLERY. - - -Aspley Place, once the center of a large estate and the scene of much -hospitality in Colonel Aspley Marshall’s lifetime, was now surrounded -by a farm of less than two hundred acres. Mortimer, or “Morey” as he -was always called, and his mother, had been left dependent upon the -estate at Colonel Marshall’s death three years before. At first it was -not known that Colonel Marshall was financially involved. But his debts -almost consumed his supposed enormous and valuable tobacco plantation. -Out of the settlement Major Carey, his executor, saved for the widow -and her son the home. But it and the little farm immediately about -the house was mortgaged to Major Carey himself, who from year to year -renewed the notes for borrowed money. - -On these few worn and almost exhausted acres a faithful retainer, an -old negro, Marshall or “Marsh” Green, who had been Colonel Marshall’s -servant from babyhood, made desperate efforts to provide a living for -his mistress. He and his boy Amos Green lived in the sole remaining -cabin of the old quarters, where, in the time of Colonel Marshall’s -father and in the days when Amos Green’s grandfather was a boy, there -had been a street of log huts beneath big oaks, and a hundred slaves -might be counted. Marsh Green and his boy now lived in a cabin patched -with store boxes, beneath a roof mended with flattened lard tins. - -It was now many a day since the Marshalls had killed their own hogs, -and as for the old oaks, Colonel Aspley himself had sold them. In -truth, Morey’s father was neither a successful farmer nor a frugal -business man. He believed in the past, was a kind parent and husband, -had his mint juleps regularly, lived up to his patrimony and left for -Morey nothing more than the recollection of a chivalrous and proud -father, a mortgaged plantation, old Marsh Green and fat Betty, his -hunter. - -But these things Morey neither knew nor understood. Mrs. Marshall had -a vague belief that what she called her “private fortune” would amply -care for her and for Morey’s education. She neither knew the amount of -this nor her real income. In fact, this fortune, left to her by an -uncle, was a meagre five thousand dollars, and the $250 it produced -annually, which Captain Barber’s bank at Lee’s Court House collected -and held for her, was always overdrawn. - -It was by Captain Barber and Major Carey that Mrs. Marshall’s taxes -were looked after, her insurance cared for and her notes renewed -from year to year, and she lived on in dignity and pride with little -understanding of how the money came. Nor did she even suspect how much -was due to the ceaseless efforts of Marsh Green. - -“Colonel Aspley’s overseer,” she always said in referring to the -faithful Green. - -“Mrs. Marshall’s hired man,” said the newcomers who were turning old -and historic tobacco fields into fruit orchards and vegetable gardens. - -But Marsh could hardly be called a “hired” man. If he was “hired” it -was without pay. All the money that the white-haired negro saw came -from the vegetables he grew that “the place” did not need. And these -were as much the property of old Marsh as if the plantation were his. -Mrs. Marshall did not even think of the matter. Twice a year she and -Marsh and Amos drove to Lee’s and the colored servitors were clothed. - -The fall before, Morey, with much ceremony, had been forwarded to a -school for boys in Richmond, famous both for its excellent curriculum -and its high tuition. The bills for this had been met by Captain Barber -as long as the little account in his bank warranted. Then came the -inevitable. - -On a day late in the winter Captain Barber and Major Carey, freshly -shaven and carrying their gold-headed canes, drove slowly up to Aspley -Place. Mammy Ca’line received them. In the musty old parlor, where -Colonel Marshall’s picture in his red hunting coat glared down upon his -old time friends, the nervous committee twirled two shiny canes. - -Mrs. Marshall was not an old woman. Her veneration for the past was -not based on any love for long gold chains, earrings, or corkscrew ear -curls. There was something a little faded about her appearance but it -was not in her hair, nor in her face. Perhaps it was in the gown she -wore, but this neither the Captain nor the Major saw. Mrs. Marshall’s -neighborly greeting, her courtesy, preserved with many other graces -from the days of the old régime, her smile of peace and content, -disconcerted the visitors. - -“Madam,” began Major Carey at last, “theah is a little mattah--a -trifle--but, ah, a mattah that we feel bound, Madam, to lay befoah you.” - -“Ouah respect, Madam, foah yo’ husban’, the late Colonel Marshall, who -was ouah friend,”--added Captain Barber. - -“The regard we hold fo’ his memory and fo’ you and yo’ son -Mortimer,”--went on the Major. - -What they had come to say to Mrs. Marshall was that, in her -circumstances, Mortimer could not be sent away to a fashionable school; -that he could not hope to play the role of a gentleman, that the farm -was non-productive and should be sold, that Mortimer, now a young man, -should set about earning a living, and that she and her son ought to -purchase a cottage in the nearby village where they might live on a -reduced scale and dispense with the unremunerated services of old Marsh -and his idle, lazy, hungry son. - -But no such suggestions were made. - -Mrs. Marshall listened to the explanation of her financial straits -undisturbed. Where the agitated visitors expected tears and despair -they found a paralyzing calmness. - -“I regret to say, my dear Madam,” concluded Major Carey at last and -with a dry throat, “that you now owe Mortimer’s school four hundred -dollars, and the bill is so long overdue that they are, ah, becoming -even impertinent.” - -“I really thought it had been paid,” said Mrs. Marshall in her low, -soft tone and looking at her banker, Captain Barber, in an injured way. -The Captain only wiggled in his chair. He even dismissed the idea he -had had of telling Mrs. Marshall that she had already overdrawn her -account one hundred and eighty dollars. “Haven’t I some funds out at -interest?” continued their hostess. - -“I think you have about--” - -Mrs. Marshall smiled and raised her still plump hand. - -“Please don’t bother about the details,” she added hastily. “You have -always been so good as to look after my business. I will take it as -a favor if you will realize out of my funds whatever is needed to -cover this obligation. I prefer to sacrifice my private fortune rather -than encumber the family estate which, of course,” and she smiled -comfortably, “is to be preserved for Mortimer.” - -The two visitors could not look at each other. They sat silent and -aghast. The “family estate” had been reduced to less than two hundred -acres of worn out and almost unsalable tobacco land. Even this was -mortgaged and Major Carey had been carrying the obligation for years. -He had not even received a cent of interest since Colonel Marshall’s -death. - -“Certainly, Madam,” stammered Captain Barber at last, rising. “Just as -you wish.” - -“Mrs. Marshall,” said Major Carey bowing, “when Master Mortimer returns -from school will you have him do me the honor to call upon me?” - -“With great pleasure,” said Mortimer’s mother, “although the poor boy -is not coming directly home at the close of school. He will first visit -his uncle Douglas in Hammondsport, New York. And, by the way, Captain,” -she added, turning to the flustered planter-banker, “I’m afraid his -wardrobe may require replenishing and he will need a little pocket -money. Will you kindly send him a hundred dollars and charge it to my -account?” - -There was no help for it. If she had been a man the thrifty banker -would have been adamant. To the widow of his dead friend he only bowed. - -“At once,” he answered politely. Then he added: “Madam, I trust you -will not think me impertinent. But what are your plans for your son’s -future?” - -“Colonel Marshall was a tobacco grower,” she answered proudly. “The -Aspley plantation has known nothing but tobacco for a hundred and fifty -years.” - -When Major Carey’s old buggy--he did not own or use an automobile--had -creaked down the weed-grown Aspley Place private road to the highway -and the unhinged gate had been dragged into place, Captain Barber -turned to his companion. - -“If Mrs. Marshall’s son hasn’t any more business sense than his mother -the Barber Bank is going to have a tidy sum to charge up to profit and -loss. We’re two old fools. What do you want to see the boy about?” - -Major Carey grunted. “I’m goin’ to tell him what his mother doesn’t -know--that she isn’t worth a cent and that he must go to work and care -for her.” - -This was in March. - -On the day in June that Morey reached his home, raced with Amos, -arranged to go in quest of “old Julius Cæsar” and his many “chilluns,” -and then made his way free-hearted and devoid of care over the unkempt -lawn toward the house, there was no thought in his mind of money, debts -and little of the future. - -“Aspley House” hardly merited such a formal title. The building itself -was of wood, two stories high and long since denuded of paint. But the -gallery, or porch, in front seemed part of some other architectural -creation. The floor of it was flush with the yard and of brick, worn -and with sections missing here and there. The columns, unencumbered -with a second story floor, were of great round pillars of brick. They -had once been covered with cement, but this coating had now fallen away -and the soft red of the weather beaten bricks was almost covered with -entwined swaying masses of honeysuckle. - -Beneath these blossoming vines Morey’s mother awaited him. - -“I saw it,” she exclaimed anxiously. “I’ve seen your poor father do the -same. You are not hurt?” - -“Hurt?” shouted Morey as his mother put her arm about his neck and -wiped the blood from his face with her lace handkerchief. “I’ve -forgotten it. Breakfast ready?” - -In a fragrant, shaded corner of the gallery, where the brick pavement -was reasonably intact, sat a little table. On the snow-white cloth -rested a bowl of flowers. At two places thin, worn silver knives, -forks and spoons glistened with a new polish. But the “M” had nearly -disappeared from them. - -“Say, mater,” laughed Morey, proud of his newly acquired Latin, “why -don’t you fix this pavement? Some one’s going to break his neck on -these broken bricks.” - -“It should have been seen to before this,” his mother answered. “And I -really believe we ought to paint the house.” - -“Looks like a barn,” commented Morey, attacking a plate of Mammy -Ca’line’s corn bread. “This some of our own butter?” - -Mrs. Marshall looked up at the fat smiling Mammy Ca’line, beaming in -her red bandanna. - -“Mammy,” asked Mrs. Marshall, “is this some of our own butter?” - -“Ouah own buttah!” exclaimed the grinning cook, maid and all-around -servant. “Fo’ the lans’ sake, Miss Marshall, we ain’t made no buttah on -dis place sense ole Marse done gone, fo’ yars come dis fall.” - -Mrs. Marshall sighed. - -“Why don’t you?” snapped Morey with a tone that reminded his mother of -his dead father. - -“Why don’t we?” laughed old Ca’line. “I reckon you boun’ to have cows -to make buttah--leastways _a_ cow. Dat ole Ma’sh Green don’ keep no -cows no mo’.” - -Morey laughed. - -“Runnin’ on the cheaps, eh?” - -But his mother only smiled and sipped her coffee. - -As the hungry, happy boy helped himself to one of the three thin slices -of bacon, old Ca’line leaned toward her mistress and said, in a low -voice: - -“Miss Ma’shall, dat’s de lastest of dat two poun’ of salt meat.” - -Mrs. Marshall smiled again. - -“Have the overseer go to town this morning, Ca’line, and lay in what -supplies are needed. Have we any fowls on the place?” - -“Yas ’um, dey’s fowls, but dey’s only ‘aiggers.’ Dey ain’t ‘eaters.’” - -As Mrs. Marshall looked up in surprise, Morey experienced the first -serious moment of his life. - -“It’s one of Amos’ jokes, mater. I understand. I’ll tell you about it -after a bit.” - -“Amos is really very trying at times,” was Mrs. Marshall’s only comment. - -“As for meat, Ca’line,” went on Morey gaily, “don’t bother. Amos and I -are going for trout this morning. We’ll have a fish dinner today.” - -“Your father was very fond of trout,” exclaimed Morey’s mother. “I’m -so glad you’re going. By the way, Mortimer, the first day you find -the time Major Carey wants you to call. He’s very fond of you.” Then, -thoughtfully, “Have you any engagement this evening? We might drive -over late today.” - -“That’s a go,” exclaimed Morey, springing up, “unless the fishing makes -me too late. Pleasure before business, you know.” - -As old Ca’line shambled down the wide hall she shook her head and -mumbled: - -“His pappy’s own chile! An’ dat’s what took de paint offen dis house.” - - - - -CHAPTER III - -MOREY MEETS A FELLOW FISHERMAN. - - -Mrs. Marshall’s home fronted the west. Always, in the distance, like -a magic curtain ready to rise and reveal a fairyland beyond, hung -the vapory Blue Mountains. Round about, like long fingers, the rough -mountain heights ran down among the century-old plantations. Ridges, -pine-grown and rocky, and here and there tumbling rivulets gave variety -to the long, level reaches of tobacco land. - -A little creek, finally trickling into the north part of the -Rappahannock river, skirted what had once been the east boundary of the -old Marshall plantation. In days long gone, before the forests thinned -and while the mountain sides were thick with laurel, ash, and oak, the -creek plunged lustily in and out of its wide and deep pools and went -bounding musically in many a rapid. But now, even as the Marshall acres -had thinned and disappeared, the woodland stream had dwarfed and shrunk -until it was little more than a reminder of its former vigor. - -Yet, by all the Marshalls it was remembered as the place where Colonel -Aspley had “whipped the stream for speckled beauties” like a gentleman; -it was still Aspley Creek, and Amos was not the only one who believed -trout might still be taken there. It was not surprising, therefore, -that Lieutenant Fred Purcell, of the U. S. Army, should on this day -drive twenty miles from Linden to try his luck there. - -Why this keen-eyed young officer, and many other soldiers who were not -officers, were seen so often in the little railroad town of Linden, -few persons knew. But to this place he had come, when the snows in the -mountains were disappearing in March, with a few brother officers and a -squad of privates and much strange baggage. Mules and wagons followed a -few days later and then the new arrivals disappeared. There were many -theories. Generally it was agreed that it might mean an expedition -against “moonshiners” or illicit distillers. More conservative gossips -predicted that it was a party of military engineers. The local paper -ventured that the war department was about to locate a weather -observatory on the mountains. One thing only became, gradually, common -knowledge--that the soldiers were in camp near Green Springs, in -Squirrel Gap, ten miles back in the foot hills and that the officers -came every few days to the Green Tree Inn, in Linden, to eat and smoke. - -Morey, rising from the breakfast table, was almost on Mammy Ca’line’s -heels. - -“Mammy,” he shouted, “where’s my old fishin’ clothes?” - -The fat old negress turned and then, embarrassed, exclaimed: - -“Yo’ ma done say yo’ don’ want dem ol’ pants no mo’. She gib all yo’ -ol’ garmen’s to Amos.” - -“Everything?” laughed Morey, looking down at his second best trousers. -“I’m goin’ for trout. I can’t wade in these.” - -Old Ca’line shook her head. - -“I reckon yo’ ma gwine get yo’ new clothes. Yo’ old clothes is Amos -meetin’ pants.” - -“Amos!” yelled Morey, rushing through the wide hall and out into the -rear yard. “Amos!” he called, hurrying toward the tumble-down cabin of -the Greens. “Gimme my pants! My fishin’ pants!” - -The sober-faced colored boy was just emerging from the single room in -which he and his father lived, with a bit of clothes line around his -shoulders to which was attached an old, cracked, and broken creel, and -carrying in his hand a long-preserved jointed casting rod. - -“I say,” repeated Morey, half laughing, “Mammy Ca’line says Mother gave -you my old fishing clothes. Produce--I want ’em.” - -The colored boy looked up, alarmed. - -“Ah--ah,” he stuttered. “Dem’s my own clothes. Dey’s my onliest meetin’ -pants.” - -“I should say not,” roared Morey. “Mother didn’t know what she was -doin’. Fork ’em over! I can’t go into the water in these,” he added, -pointing to the trousers he had on. “These ain’t _ready-made_,” he went -on proudly; “they ain’t boughten. I got them from a tailor in Richmond.” - -Amos eyed the new trousers with interest and admiration. Then his lip -quivered. - -“Marse Morey,” he whimpered, “yo’ ma done gib me dem pants las’ -Chrismus’. I speck’s she don’t ’low I’s gwine part wid dem. Dey’s a -present.” - -“Look here, boy, don’t make me mad,” retorted Morey. “Turn over my -pants or we don’t go fishin’.” - -Amos’ whine ended in a sob. He hesitated and then broke out: “Yo’ -ma _gib_ ’em to me. But--.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Marse -Morey,” he said, coming close to the frowning white boy, “I’s got fo’ -bits I made pickin’ berries fo’ Miss Carey--” - -Morey’s voice did not change but a smile seemed to hover about his -clean-cut lips. - -“Look here, nigger,” he exclaimed suddenly, “do you want those pants -worse than I do?” - -“Wuss!” whimpered Amos. “I jes’ nachally got to hab ’em. I done -promised dem pants to Miss ’Mandy Hill.” - -“Promised my pants to a girl?” - -“Yas sah,” explained Amos soberly. “’Mandy and me’s gwine to de camp -meetin’ Sunday to the Co’t House. I promise her long time ago I’s gwine -wear dem pants when we does.” - -“Ah, I see,” laughed Morey at last, “well, don’t disappoint ’Mandy.” - -When the two boys left the cabin and cut across the old tobacco field -it would have been hard to tell which was the raggedest, Amos with his -patched blue overalls, almost white from constant washing, or Morey -clad in old Marsh Green’s working corduroys. - -At the ruins of the old tobacco shed Amos paused, looked at Morey a -little sheepishly and then, from under a few protecting boards, drew -out an old torn seine about five feet long, attached to two thin -saplings. - -Morey’s face flushed at once. - -“What you doing with that seine, Amos?” he exclaimed severely. - -“What I doin’ wid dat?” - -“You’ve been seining trout, you black rascal.” - -“Cross my h’at, no sah. Deed I ain’t. No sah.” - -“What have you been doing with it?” - -“Well sah, some says dey is and some says dey ain’t. But, ef yo’ ain’t -no salt meat, suckers is good eatin’.” - -“Suckers!” snorted Morey. “You all ain’t been seinin’ and eatin’ -suckers?” - -Amos nodded his head. - -“You never eat none o’ Mammy Ca’line’s sucker chowder?” - -Morey turned up his nose in disgust. - -“Can’t mostly tell no difference ’tween Ca’line’s chowder and reg’lar -fish,” the black boy went on appealingly. - -As they neared the creek Morey said: - -“Amos, if I ever catch you takin’ a trout with that net I’ll thrash -you.” - -As Morey went on and the tall colored boy looked down on his slender -companion, his hollow, mournful cheeks rounded into what was almost a -smile and he muttered to himself: - -“I reckon dat boy been livin’ high and mighty down to Richmond. Suckers -is gittin’ ’tas’ good to me sence Marse Aspley gone.” - -Morey left the tobacco field and took the old meadow path to the big -bend above--Julius Cæsar’s domain and the best part of the creek. Amos -took the road to the ford, two bends below and about an hour’s fishing -from the big pool. If Julius Cæsar existed outside of Amos’ head Morey -could not prove it. With what skill he had he fished the pool, waited -ten minutes and went over the same water again without a strike. Then -he advanced slowly down stream. In three quarters of an hour only two -trout did he hook, neither of them a fish to be proud of. - -When he reached the ford where Amos should have been waiting for him -there was no sign of the colored boy and the sun was high overhead. Ten -minutes later, wading softly down the cool and shady little stream and -almost lost in the sportsman’s absorption, his fly shooting forward -swiftly and silently over each eddy and likely log, he was suddenly -aroused by a quick splash and a violent exclamation. - -[Illustration: AMOS STRUGGLED TO FREE HIMSELF.] - -Just before him, and struggling in the middle of the stream, were two -persons. Amos, who was one of them, almost prostrate in the shallow -water, was struggling to free himself from the grip of a man about -thirty-five years old. - -“You black rascal,” exclaimed the man. “What d’you mean. Seinin’, eh? -Take that!” - -At the word he planted the flat of his hand on the black boy’s back. -As Amos fell flat in the stream and rolled over in the water there -was a splashing behind his assailant. The man turned just in time to -see Morey, his ragged, baggy trousers wet and impeding his progress, -plugging furiously forward. - -“Oh, you’re his pal, eh?” laughed the man. “Well, come on and get the -same. I’ll teach you young whelps to know better. I’ll--.” - -But he neither had time to administer the same nor to finish his -speech. The agile Amos with the water running from his clothes and -mouth, had recovered himself and with head down lunged forward. The -next instant both boy and man were locked together and almost submerged -in the sluggish current. - -As they rolled over and over Morey made desperate efforts to stop -the struggle. But he only complicated matters. Slipping, he fell -upon the two combatants. Cold water, however, is a great cooler of -angry passions. Without knowing just how it happened, in a moment, -the man and the two boys were standing in mid-stream, sputtering and -gasping for breath. Morey still gripped his rod, the man was glancing -dejectedly toward his own broken pole, now well down the creek and Amos -was gripping a moss-covered rock dug up from the bed of the creek. - -“I suppose you know you are trespassing on private property?” began -Morey, forgetting, in his indignation, that the creek no longer was a -part of his mother’s plantation. - -The man, shaking himself, turned as if surprised. - -“This boy is my servant. Have you any explanation to make?” - -The man’s surprise increased to astonishment. After another look at -Morey’s ragged garments he fixed his eyes upon the lad’s face. - -“He was seining trout--” began the stranger indignantly. - -“Da’s a lie,” exclaimed Amos. - -“He was fishing for suckers,” explained Morey. - -“Look in his pockets,” retorted the stranger. - -Morey hesitated a moment. - -“My name is Mortimer Marshall, sir, of Aspley Place. This boy is my -mother’s servant. He--” - -At that moment Morey saw a suspicious movement of Amos’ hand. - -“Amos,” he exclaimed sternly, “come here!” - -Slowly the black boy splashed forward, the rock still in his hand, but -with one cautious eye on the stranger. - -Morey ran his hand into the colored boy’s pocket and drew slowly forth -a still flopping three-quarter pound trout. - -“Fo’ de lan’s sake, Marse Morey, who done put dat fish in dar?” - -The man did not smile. - -“I’m really sorry, my boy, that I struck you. I’m a great lover of this -sport and I lost my head. I apologize to you. And to you,” he added, -turning to Morey. - -Morey turned again to Amos. - -“Where did you get that trout, Amos?” - -“Cross my ha’t, Marse Morey, I reckon dat fish done swum in ma’ pocket. -Trouts is cute fishes.” - -Morey picked up Amos’ seine, still tangled among the rocks, and -grasping the rotten sticks to which it was attached, he broke them -over his knee. Then he pointed to the bank and Amos crawled dejectedly -ashore. - -“My name is Purcell, Lieutenant Purcell, of the United States Army,” -said the stranger. - -“I am glad to know you,” replied Morey reaching out his hand. “I am -fond of fishing myself.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -A SECRET AMBITION REVEALED. - - -As Lieutenant Purcell and Morey clambered out on the bank the military -man began laughing heartily. - -“I suppose they are a pretty wide fit,” remarked Morey holding out -Marsh Green’s loosely hanging trousers with one hand. - -“I was laughing at my mistake in thinking you were a ‘pot’ fisher,” -explained the soldier. “But I’d known if I had seen your rod--it’s a -beauty.” - -Morey handed Lieutenant Purcell his father’s old split bamboo, silver -ferruled, and colored a rich brown from long use. - -“Since we caused you to lose your own rod I want you to take mine,” -said Morey promptly. “It is a little heavy and old-fashioned but it has -landed many a fine fish. It was my father’s.” - -“Your father is dead?” - -“Yes sir. My mother lives--Aspley Place is our home.” - -“Well, I want to shake hands with you, sir, and to say again I am -heartily sorry I lost my head. Losing my rod serves me right. I -couldn’t think of taking yours. It’s a beauty,” he added, taking the -rod in his hands. - -“But I want you to,” exclaimed Morey. “My father was a sportsman. He -loved his horse, rod and gun. I don’t know what Amos meant. I reckon -it’s the first time a trout was ever taken out of Aspley Creek in a -net. I’ll feel better if you’ll take the rod. If you don’t,” he added, -his eyes snapping, “I’ll take it and break it over that nigger’s back.” - -Amos, skulking within earshot--the rock still in his hand--hurried away -among the pines. - -“I insist that the fault was all mine. But I’ll compromise. I am -stationed near Linden, some miles from here, on special duty. It was a -long drive over here and a man will be waiting for me some miles down -the stream. I’d like to fish the creek down to my rendezvous. If you -lend me your rod I’ll send it to you tomorrow.” - -“At least,” said Morey, giving ready assent, “you will consider -yourself as having at all times, for yourself and friends, the use of -the creek. And when you are nearby,” he continued, pointing among the -trees toward the west, “my mother will be glad to have you call at -our home. A real fisherman will always find a welcome there. I’ve got -better pants at home,” laughed Morey. - -The soldier shrugged his shoulders and laughed in turn. Then he lifted -the lid of Morey’s broken creel and saw the two small trout. In turn -he exposed his own catch--seven beautiful fish, one weighing at least -a pound and a quarter. Before Morey could stop him the lieutenant had -dumped his own string into the boy’s basket. - -“With my compliments to your mother, my boy.” - -The pride of the Marshalls rose in the water-soaked, ragged boy’s heart. - -“On one condition, sir; that you will take dinner with us this evening.” - -The man hesitated. - -“Not today, thank you. I’m deuced glad to meet a son of one of our old -families--I’m a Virginian myself--but, not today.” - -“You are stationed at Linden, you say?” - -“For a time. I may leave any day. If I do I hope we may meet again. -Won’t you take my card?” - -He handed Morey a card reading: “Lieutenant Fred Purcell, U. S. Signal -Corps, Fort Meyer, Virginia.” - -“It will be a favor to me if you’ll take the rod,” insisted Morey. - -“The obligation is all mine,” insisted the stranger. “And, if we meet -again I hope I can find opportunity to return the favor in some way.” - -When the two finally parted company Morey had little reason to suspect -how much that statement meant, nor how soon he was to avail himself of -Lieutenant Purcell’s kind offices. - -A half hour later Morey reached his home and entered the musty, quiet -horse lot. There was hardly a breath of air and the sun lay on the -place with almost midsummer heat. A few chickens pecked in silence but -no other living thing was in sight. Until then the boy had not realized -how desolate and run-down was the place where once the activities of -a busy plantation centered. There were hardly signs even, of the farm -implements that had rotted away for years. The yard seemed abandoned. - -With a little lump in his throat the boy hurried forward, his long, -ragged trousers gathering new dust and weight as he did do. As he -climbed the broken-down fence and got a view of the big, paintless, -loose-boarded house beyond he almost sighed. But there at least were -flowers and he could hear the hum of bees among the hollyhocks by the -garden fence. There he could see Marsh, his old hat well down on his -head, bent over his hoe, as the colored man rose at times among the -rank weeds. Beyond the garden patch, in the low meadow, he could see, -too, old Betty and Jim the mule. Amos was not in sight. - -“Old Marsh is getting pretty careless,” said Morey to himself. “There’s -a good many things he ought to do around here. Lazy niggers,” he mused. - -It did not occur to Morey that he might do some of these things -himself. Such had not been the lad’s training. With another sigh he -made his way to Marsh Green’s cabin. Never before had it looked so poor -and desolate. - -“Marsh ought to fix up his old place,” Morey muttered. Then he turned -and looked at the big house. The wide shingles, green with moss, were -missing in many places. The big chimney, with one side of the top -missing, stood like a monument to the departed glories of other days. -On the grey-green roof a few chimney bricks lay where they had fallen. -But, around the far corner where the gallery showed, the honeysuckle, -crawling over the columns and roof, hung a deep green curtain of new -fragrance. And, through the crookedly hanging shutters which were the -color of dead grass, he saw fresh white curtains. - -For the first time in his life the sight of the bricks on the roof -annoyed Morey. With a sharp reprimand on his tongue he was about to -call to the busy Marsh when a sound fell upon his ear. There was some -one in the cabin. Stealing around behind the crumbling shack Morey -cautiously approached it and peered through a crack. Amos, crooning -to himself, was standing in the middle of the hard, clay floor with -Morey’s Richmond trousers held up, before him in his outstretched hands. - -Amos’ eyes were set. On his solemn black face there was a look -of longing. His temptation was too great. Squatting on the floor -the colored boy emptied the contents of the trousers’ pockets -on the clay; seventy-five cents in money--dimes, nickels and a -shining quarter--Morey’s key ring, a silver pencil case, note-book, -handkerchief, rubber eraser and his new pocket knife, the last thing he -had bought in Richmond. - -Each thing the colored lad fondled, felt and smelled. Then he opened -the knife, tested it and held it off at arm’s length. Gradually he -returned each object to its place, the knife last of all. He sprang to -his feet, and Morey was just about to call out, but stopped. The black -boy, giving way to temptation, plunged his hand again into a pocket of -the trousers and pulled out the new knife. He shoved the knife into his -own pocket and dropped the trousers where Morey had left them. - -Chuckling to himself, Morey, a few moments later, sauntered into the -cabin. - -“Amos,” said Morey, “did that man hurt you when he pushed you over?” - -“Push me?” said Amos. “He done hit me wid his fis’.” - -“Did he hurt you?” persisted Morey, doffing Marsh’s unwieldly trousers. - -For answer Amos produced and exhibited the mossy boulder that he had -carried from the creek. - -“Don’ mak no diffunce ’bout dat. But ef dat man ebber comes dis way,” -and he shook his head belligerently, “yo’ don’ need ast him no sich -quesson. He ain’t gwine to be hurted--he gwine to be kilt--da’s right.” - -“Anyway don’t stab him,” said Morey putting on his own trousers. - -“I ain’t no stabbin’ colored boy,” began Amos with dignity, “an’ I -ain’t gwine hit no pusson when he ain’t lookin!” - -“Good. Never do any thing behind another man’s back.” - -The colored boy shifted a little uneasily but Morey only laughed and -said no more. As the two boys passed out of the cabin Morey pointed to -the distant home. - -“Amos,” he said, “why don’t you get up there and take those bricks -down?” - -“Yo’ ma don’ tell me to take no bricks down. How I gwine to git ’way up -dar? ’Sides, I ain’t got no time--.” - -“Well, I tell you--” - -“Miss Marshall, don’ tell me--.” - -“Git, boy!” snapped Morey nodding toward the house. - -But Amos hung back, digging his toes into the dust, with a defiant look -on his face. Morey began to feel in his pockets and his face assumed a -puzzled look. - -“I reckon I must have dropped my new knife in the cabin,” said Morey, -turning back. - -There was a swift pat-pat of bare feet and, as Morey glanced over his -shoulder he saw Amos in a cloud of dust loping at the top of his speed -toward the house. - -Morey followed the flying colored boy who in a few minutes was -scrambling up the kitchen roof. Mammy Ca’line was in the kitchen -ironing and singing softly to herself. Throwing the now stiff trout on -a table Morey said: - -“Here you are, Mammy, trout for supper.” - -“Ain’t you all gwine to Major Carey’s dis ebenin’?” - -Morey’s jaw fell. He had forgotten about the proposed call. - -“Anyway,” he said, “we aren’t going there for supper.” - -“Wha’ fo’ yo’ gwine den? Yo’ ma’ she always stay fo’ eatin’.” - -“Where is mother?” asked Morey. - -“Sh! sh!” whispered Mammy Ca’line, “yo ma been gettin’ her beauty -sleep, chile.” - -“You cook the fish, Mammy; we’ll go after supper.” - -The old colored woman looked up with a shrewd smile. - -“Yo’ all bettah go ’long to Major Carey’s tomorrow, lessen yo’ git -’nother mess o’ fish. Major Carey ain’t gwine to turn no one way from -de table. De Carey’s has fish when dey wants dem. We all has ’em when -we kin get ’em.” - -Morey grew thoughtful. But, passing on into the hall he made his way -lightly upstairs, that he might not disturb his mother, and entered his -own little room. - -It certainly looked restful, after his day’s activity, and throwing -himself on the big, high-posted bed, he prepared to rest. But Morey was -not used to passing the daylight hours thus and in a few minutes he was -up and busy. His unpacked trunk was before him and he squatted on the -floor beside it. - -About five o’clock Mrs. Marshall, fresh and smiling, dressed in white -and with a spray of honeysuckle in her dress, softly opened the -door. On the floor, fast asleep, lay Morey. About him, in the direst -confusion and disorder, were books, circulars, catalogues and newspaper -clippings. The floor was littered with what had apparently been the -principal contents of the boy’s trunk. - -Mrs. Marshall picked her way among them; automobile catalogues, price -list of motors, advertisements of balloon manufacturers, descriptions -of aeroplane and dirigible balloon motors; newspaper clippings relating -to airships and their flights; motor-boat pictures. By the unconscious -boy’s arm lay a paper backed volume, “Aeroplanes; their Manufacture -and Use.” Not less than fifty such items constituted the litter on the -floor. - -Mrs. Marshall touched Morey on the forehead. He sprang up, rubbed his -eyes and yawned. - -“Is this your school library?” asked his mother, laughing. - -“Some of it,” answered Morey soberly. “I borrowed the rest.” - -Mrs. Marshall looked surprised. - -“Does this interest you?” she went on, picking up a picture of a -revolving gyroscopic motor as if it were dynamite. - -“Interest me?” exclaimed Morey. “I reckon it interests any one in my -business.” - -“Your business?” - -“Surely. That’s what I’m goin’ to be.” - -Mrs. Marshall could only look at him, dazed and bewildered. - -“Haven’t had time to tell you,” smiled Morey. “I’m an aviator. I’m -going to make an aeroplane this summer.” - - - - -CHAPTER V - -A VISIT OF CEREMONY. - - -“You don’t mean to tell me you don’t know what ‘aeroplane’ means?” -almost shouted Morey, when he saw from his mother’s look that she was -puzzled. “Well, I’ll be--” - -“Mortimer!” exclaimed Mrs. Marshall with as much sternness as she ever -used. - -“Mater,” he laughed, “you certainly are behind the times.” - -“What does it mean?” she asked placidly. - -“I suppose you never heard of ‘aviator’ either?” - -“I’ve heard of ‘aviary’. I believe that has something to do with birds.” - -“Right! Though I never heard of an aviary,” added Morey, partly to -himself. “It _is_ a bird. It’s a human bird. An ‘aviator’ is a man who -drives an aeroplane.” - -“And this--this airy--?” - -“Mother, sit down,” answered Morey in despair, “and I’ll begin your -aeronautical education.” - -For the next quarter of an hour Mrs. Marshall dodged and parried -verbal volleys of airship talk. Beginning with hot air balloons Morey -led his mother along through a history of aeronautics until he came to -aeroplanes. And then, not satisfied with the bewildered condition of -his patient parent, he began with the dreams of the enthusiast. - -“In war and peace, in commerce and pleasure, from the Pole to the -tropics, these human birds will darken the air on pinions swifter than -the eagle’s wing. The snow-crested peaks of the Himalayas, the deepest -recesses of the tropic wilderness, the uncharted main and the untrodden -ice of the hidden Poles will unroll before the daring aviator like -the--like--the--” - -“The pictured pleasures of the panorama,” continued his mother, -pointing to the underscored page of the “History of Aeroplanes” which -she had been holding during Morey’s discourse. - -“Yes,” said Morey, blushing, and then recovering himself. “Anyway, -that’s my plan of a career. I’m going to be an ‘aviator’. And I’m going -to begin at the bottom. I’m going to start by making an aeroplane right -here--out in the old carpenter shop.” - -“Mortimer, I suppose I am just a little behind the times. Is this a -desirable thing?” - -“Beats the world.” - -“Have you been studying this at school?” - -“’Taint in the course, but everybody’s studying it.” - -“When did you interest yourself in such a peculiar subject?” - -“Oh, ages ago--long before Christmas,” answered Morey. “I’ve read all -the books in the public library at Richmond and all the magazines, and -I’ve got all the circulars I could find. All I want now is a set of -tools and some spruce lumber and some silk and an engine--I can do it. -Needn’t fear I can’t.” - -“And these things,” suggested Mrs. Marshall, her smooth brow wrinkling -just a trifle, “do they require any considerable outlay of funds?” - -“Well,” said Morey--hesitating a little now--“The tools won’t cost -much, but I wanted to ask you about the engine. Of course,” and he put -his arm affectionately about his mother’s shoulders, “I know it isn’t -just as if father was with us, and I ain’t figuring on the best engine. -I would like a revolving motor, that’s the newest thing, one with a -gyroscopic influence, but that costs a good deal.” - -“How much?” asked his mother taking the illustrated price list of -engines that Morey handed her. - -“Twelve hundred dollars.” - -His mother gasped and the circular dropped from her hand. - -“I thought myself that was too much,” quickly exclaimed Morey, -puckering his lips. “But, mater, I’m not going to be extravagant. I’ve -arranged for a cheap one, a second-hand one. It’s at Hammondsport. I -saw it when I was visiting at Uncle’s.” - -His mother sighed, looked for a moment out toward the ruined and -ramshackle barn and then, with a new smile, asked indifferently: - -“And the price of this--approximately?” - -“This one,” answered Morey, proudly, “is a real Curtiss six-cylinder, -and it’s a regular aeroplane engine. It’s cheap, because the man it -was made for didn’t take it. Cousin Jack knows a boy who works in Mr. -Curtiss’ shop. I saw Mr. Curtiss about it myself. It was such a bargain -that I--I--well I bought it.” - -Mrs. Marshall breathed a little heavily and rearranged her dress. - -“You didn’t mention the price,” she said at last, patting Morey’s hand. - -“Only four hundred dollars!” - -His mother laughed nervously. “I’m afraid my boy is a little -extravagant,” she remarked slowly. - -“Do you know what that engine’s worth!” exclaimed Morey. “It’s worth -$800 any day.” - -“Well, I suppose the young men of today must have their amusements. -Your father’s was horses and hunting. But it did not interfere with -his business as a planter. I trust you will not become extreme in the -fancy. It must not be carried too far.” - -“Too far? I’m not going to do anything else until I get rich.” - -“Nothing else? You mean no other amusement?” - -“That’s not amusement; it’s business. It’s going to be my job.” - -“You mean along with tobacco planting?” - -“I should say not. What, me a farmer? Tobacco is played out.” - -“Mortimer Marshall!” - -“You don’t think I’m going to be a planter, do you?” - -“Mortimer!” Mrs. Marshall was erect in her chair, her cheeks pale. - -“Why, mater, I had no idea that you felt that way. You don’t mean that -I’m to come back here and take old Marsh Green’s place. I can’t grow -tobacco. I don’t know how and I don’t want to. Young men don’t do those -things nowadays. They get out and hustle.” - -“Mortimer, your father was a planter from boyhood until he died. His -father was one and his father’s father. Aspley Place has grown tobacco -for one hundred and fifty years. In Virginia it is a gentleman’s life.” - -“No, mater,” answered Morey in a low and kind voice. “It was. But it -isn’t now. You love this place--so do I. But I’ve been out in the -world, a little--you haven’t. Things have gone on all around us and we -didn’t know it. I can’t be a tobacco planter. I won’t.” - -Mrs. Marshall’s lips trembled but she said nothing. - -“I’ll go to school, mater; I’ll even go to college if you like. But -then I want to go to an engineering school. After that I’m going to -make you famous. I’m going to make the perfect flying machine. Then -we’ll move away from this old place--” - -“Mortimer!” quivered his mother. “From Aspley Place? Your father’s -home? Never!” Then, with an effort, she became calm. Rising, as if -both hurt and indignant, she exclaimed: - -“My son, I am your mother and your guardian. I have my own plans for -your future--your father’s plans. From now you will dismiss these -ideas. I shall countermand your foolish purchase or ask your uncle to -do so. This summer you will spend with me. You will return to your -school and then to the University. When, in time, you graduate and are -able to do so you will return here and assume charge of the patrimony -bequeathed you by your father. Meanwhile, Mr. Green will remain in -charge.” - -And leaving Morey standing crestfallen among the jumble of books and -papers, his mother walked sadly from the room. - -It was the first time Mortimer had ever been balked in his life. For -six months he had thought and dreamed of nothing else. His pride was -hurt, too, for to his cousin Jack, in Hammondsport, he had outlined -carefully the exact details of his future plans. He had managed to -secure an invitation from Jack Marshall to visit Hammondsport soon -after his investigation into aeroplane and airship affairs had revealed -to him that in that little town Inventor Curtiss had his motor -shop and aeroplane factory and that other balloon manufacturers and -experimenters had collected there in sufficient numbers to make it -the aeronautical center of America. There he had seen real dirigible -balloons, had met and talked with Carl Meyers, the oldest balloon -navigator in the country, had witnessed flights of the Curtiss -aeroplane, had gazed upon the renowned Professor Graham Bell, had -lounged for days about the mysterious and fascinating shops and -factories, and, best of all and most unforgettable, had tasted the joys -of gliding on the kites and planes of the various aeronautical experts. - -Then he recalled the mocking laugh of his uncle. - -He was a stubborn boy, but--he did not know whether he was a -disobedient one. In all his life he had never been tested. Flushed and -sick with disappointment he caught up his precious books and circulars -and was banging them into the trunk when the door opened and Amos stuck -his head into the room: - -“Marse Morey, yo’ ma says yo’ all gwine ober to Marse Major Carey’s -soon as yo’ has yo’ supper. An’ yo’s to put on yo’ bestest cloe’s an’ -slick up.” - -Bang! went “Aeroplanes, their Manufacture and Use.” It missed the -colored boy’s head and crashed against the door jamb. - -“Here, you black rascal,” shouted Morey, red in the face and full of -anger, “come back here and give me my knife, you thief!” - -But the accusation was lost. Amos was on the long stair rail shooting -to the bottom like a sack of wheat. - -When the old-fashioned supper bell clanged out in the hall below, -Morey, white of face, marched downstairs and into the dining room in -silence. At the humble board with Morey’s trout, almost the only dish, -on the snowy white cloth before her, sat his mother, also pale, but -with her usual smile. A look of surprise swept over her face as she -noticed that Morey had ignored her orders. - -“The evening is very agreeable,” said his mother softly. “It will be -light for some time. Major Carey has asked you to come and see him. We -are going immediately after supper. I have ordered out the carriage.” - -“Won’t tomorrow do?” said Morey sharply--and then he was sorry. - -“If you prefer,” answered his mother. “Your trout are delicious.” - -“Oh, I’ll go tonight,” said Morey, ashamed of his anger. - -“The Careys are our oldest friends,” went on his mother, smiling again. -“I had hoped you would look your best. When Major Carey does me the -honor to appear in our home he comes clothed as a gentleman. He carries -his gold-headed cane. His linen is immaculate.” - -“It won’t take me but a minute,” said Morey, crowding back a tear of -mortification but disposing of a couple of crisp trout nevertheless. -“I’ll be ready as soon as you are.” - -He was about to dash from the room when he turned, hastened to his -mother’s side and kissed her on the cheek. - -“That’s a good boy, Mortimer. I’m glad you realize that I know best.” - -While Morey was making his hasty toilet he heard a creaking sound -outside. Rushing to the window he was about to break out into laughter. -Then he stopped and a little flush came into his face. Slowly advancing -along the road from the stable lot was his mother’s carriage. It was -the old surrey that his father had once used in transporting the hounds -to the distant meets. Paintless, its bottom gaping, its top cracked and -split and its wheels wobbling, it groaned forward toward the mounting -block at the end of the gallery. To it was hitched fat Betty, sleek -and shiny with rubbing. The harness used only on such occasions, still -withstood the final ravages of time, for on one bridle blinder shone -one glittering polished silver M--old Marsh’s pride and joy. - -What had amused Morey was the sight of the old servitor, “Colonel -Marshall’s overseer,” Marsh Green. His shoes were shining, and a fresh -white shirt showed resplendent beneath his worn coat, but the old man’s -chief glory was his battered silk hat. By his side rode Amos, splendid -in his shoes and Morey’s trousers--his “meetin’ pants.” - -What had brought the flush to Morey’s face was the sudden thought: -“the Careys do not come to Aspley Place in such a turnout.” And, for -the first time in his life, Morey felt ashamed of the old home and its -surroundings. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -MOREY LEARNS HE IS A BANKRUPT. - - -Major Carey’s mansion in the village of Lee’s Court House connected -that old-fashioned, white-housed settlement with the plantations lying -about the town. It was of red brick, square and solemn, with a slate -mansard roof. In front, four gigantic white wooden columns stood like -towers. Unlike the Aspley house, these columns--very cold in a coat of -new paint--carried an upper gallery or balcony extending the width of -the house. And at the left end of the lower gallery a slender circular -stairway, concealed behind a trellis of green slats and partly covered -with ivy, led to the upper balcony. Immense oak trees afforded shade in -what had once been an extensive dooryard. - -But the village, which was not wholly asleep, encroaching on the place, -had eaten off sections of the old yard on each side. What the Carey -home had been at one time, while tobacco growing had been profitable -and before Major Carey had begun to devote himself to banking and -money lending in town, might be seen from the little windows on the -roof. From this elevated point an observer might see that the oak trees -in the yard had once extended in two long rows half a mile from the -front gallery, marking the old plantation drive. New streets had cut -across these and only the tops of the mighty oaks could be made out -stretching through the growing town. - -It was almost dusk when Amos Green, stiff in his heavy shoes, sprang -from the surrey and admitted Mrs. Marshall and her son through the gate -into the Carey grounds. Major Carey, his wife, and Mrs. Bradner, their -married daughter, whose husband was the cashier in Captain Barber’s -bank, were sitting on an iron settee along the driveway, near the house. - -The arrival of Mrs. Marshall was almost sensational. The Careys marched -alongside the “carriage” to the horse block and Major Carey like a -cavalier assisted his guests to light. Mrs. Carey kissed her girlhood -friend, and Major Cary saluted her with a profound bow, but for Mrs. -Bradner there was but a light grasp of the hand. The former Miss Carey -had married a man whom no one knew, a bank clerk from the West with no -other recommendation than his sobriety and industry. - -To Morey the call was wearisome in the extreme. He reported on his -school experiences, carefully omitting his aeronautical studies, and -his mother exchanged with Mrs. Carey old-fashioned, stilted gossip -concerning their homes and servants. Mrs. Bradner, in a beautifully -made tailor gown, sat quietly by. When Morey saw how cheap his mother’s -dress appeared in comparison with Mrs. Bradner’s, the thoughts that had -troubled him all day came back again. - -Then there were refreshments and the formality relaxed somewhat. - -“Major Carey,” said Mrs. Marshall suddenly, “I really wish you would -talk to Morey. I’m afraid the boy has got some queer ideas in Richmond. -However,” and she smiled kindly toward the somewhat embarrassed Morey, -“perhaps it is unnecessary now. He has promised me to forget them.” - -Major Carey smiled graciously. - -“Well, boys will be boys, I’m afraid,” he began. “But just what form -of--well sir, what are you up to now?” he asked, turning to Morey. - -The boy’s embarrassment increased. - -“Mother thinks I’m a farmer,” he said with an attempt at a smile. “I -can’t agree with her.” - -“But,” interrupted Mrs. Marshall graciously, “perhaps we ought not -bother our friends with these family details. Especially since Morey -now sees that he was wrong. He has agreed with me to finish the full -course at his present school, to take a university training and then -become one of us again.” - -“To take charge of Aspley plantation?” asked Mrs. Carey. - -Mrs. Marshall nodded her head with a satisfied smile. - -“And what had _you_ planned?” exclaimed Major Carey, who did not seem -to join in Mrs. Carey’s and Mrs. Marshall’s satisfaction. - -“I was willing to finish my schooling,” answered Morey soberly, “and -I’ll even spend four years in the university if my mother likes, but I -want a technical training. I want to understand airships. I meant,” and -he looked at his mother covertly, “to become an aviator if I couldn’t -become an inventor.” - -“You mean this new-fangled aeroplane business?” asked Major Carey. - -“I’m very enthusiastic over it,” went on Morey. - -“Do you know, Major, the boy actually wants to build an aeroplane -at our home this summer. And just when I know he needs rest and -recreation.” - -Major Carey had risen and was nervously toying with his heavy gold -watch chain. Before he could speak, Mrs. Marshall added: - -“He has even purchased a--some machinery of some kind--to go in it.” - -Major Carey’s hand dropped from his cane. - -“But he has given up the idea, you say?” - -Mrs. Marshall waved her hand toward her son who sat nervously twisting -his hat. - -“I’ll give it up if I have to,” said Morey, further abashed, “but I -don’t know what I’ll do with my motor engine. I’ve ordered that and I -reckon it’s on the way.” - -“These engines are rather expensive, are they not?” continued the Major -quizzically. - -“Oh, that depends,” answered Morey, “a new one is. This is a cheap one, -second-hand. It cost only four hundred dollars.” - -“You haven’t paid for it, have you?” - -Morey looked up, shook his head and fell to twirling his hat again. - -“I’m going to suggest that he countermand the order,” said Mrs. -Marshall. “It really seems to me a piece of extravagance. What do you -think, Major?” - -Major Carey’s jaw had dropped and he was looking at Mrs. Marshall and -Morey as if in deep thought. Recovering himself suddenly he made an -effort to smile and then said: - -“Perhaps,” he muttered. “Yes, I agree with you.” - -“There, now,” exclaimed Mrs. Marshall in gay humor. “You see Major -Carey quite agrees with me. If you could only persuade him, Major, that -he should follow in his father’s steps--” - -The banker-planter coughed and resorted to his watch chain again. - -“Perhaps Morey and I had better have a little talk alone,” he answered -at last. - -“If you would be so good. Business always hurts my head,” laughed -Morey’s mother. The old Virginian bowed again and slipped his arm in -Morey’s. Down the long brick walk they strolled until the last iron -settee was reached. Major Carey, perspiring, had hardly seated himself -when he exclaimed: - -“Morey, how old are you?” - -“Eighteen, sir, last month.” - -His companion nodded his head. - -“My son, your father was my best friend. Your mother has as fine and -sweet a nature as any woman in Rappahannock County. But she has no more -business sense than your old Betty.” - -Morey started in indignant surprise. - -“And, in many ways, you resemble your mother.” - -“What do you mean, Major Carey? What have we done?” - -“What did you mean by ordering a four hundred dollar steam engine?” - -“It isn’t a steam engine; its a Curtiss gasoline.” - -The elder waved his hand in impatience. - -“Who is going to pay for it?” - -Morey’s surprise turned to indignation. - -“Perhaps that is our affair, Major Carey.” - -“Your affair!” snorted the old man breaking out at last. “Morey, it’s -time for you to know the truth. It’s bad enough for your mother to fool -herself. That’s her nature. But you are almost a man. Neither you nor -your mother has the money to pay for this extravagance.” - -“I thought”--began the boy. - -“You have not thought right. I am your mother’s friend. Four months ago -I determined to tell her she was worse than penniless. She is involved -in debt. Aspley place is mortgaged--” - -“You mean we are poor?” asked Morey, in a quavering voice. “I don’t -mean that--I know we are poor. But that we owe people money we can’t -pay?” - -“I tell you the truth,” went on Major Carey, “only because you’ve got -to get some sense into your head. Your mother is heavily involved. Your -place is carrying a heavy debt. Your purchase of an engine is worse -than foolish--it is shocking.” - -The proud boy’s head fell on his breast. - -“It won’t make matters easier for you to go on this way. I can’t make -it easy for you. You make it hard yourself by not suspecting.” - -“I’ll send word not to ship it,” said Morey, not even yet realizing the -whole truth. - -“Don’t you understand, Morey?” Major Carey exclaimed. “That isn’t the -trouble. It’s every thing. You can’t go to school, you can’t take years -to educate yourself. You’ve got to go to work--now.” - -The white-faced boy rose to his feet. - -“Oh, that’s it, is it? Well I’m not scared. That’s what I am ready to -do.” - -“And you’ll have to give up your home.” - -“Give up our home? Why?” - -“The people who hold your father’s notes and the mortgage are ready to -foreclose and take the place.” - -“Give up Aspley Place?” repeated Morey, the tears coming into his eyes. - -His father’s old friend nodded his head slowly and tremulously wiped -his face. - -“Major Carey,” said Morey with a throb in his throat, “that would break -Mother’s heart. She can’t do that.” - -“The sooner you realize that it must be, the better for both of you.” - -“Was there any way to prevent this?” - -The old Major sighed. - -“It isn’t your mother’s fault, Morey. And it isn’t yours. It all began -a long time ago.” - -“You mean--?” - -“Your father was not a good business man. He was a gentleman and my -friend--” - -“We don’t have to discuss him, do we, Major Carey?” exclaimed the boy -with a new-born glint in his eye. The flush of confusion and the tremor -of alarm seemed to have gone from Morey. - -Major Carey was startled by the sudden change. - -“What do you think we should do?” went on the lad and he was beginning -to feel like a young man. - -“Your mother has a little money of her own that will keep her from -want. I and others of her friends believe she should give up the -plantation and rent a cottage in the village. You must go to work and -help support her.” - -“Major Carey,” said Morey in a low voice, “of course you know what you -are saying. But I can hardly believe it.” - -“Morey, your mother is bankrupt.” - -The boy bowed his head for a few moments. - -“How did this happen?” he exclaimed suddenly. - -“It is a long story--perhaps you are not old enough to understand.” - -“I’m old enough to have to understand.” - -“It was your father. He mortgaged the plantation. After he died your -mother could not even pay the interest on the borrowed money.” - -“To whom do we owe this money?” - -Major Carey moved a little uneasily. - -“To the Barber Bank, principally.” - -“To any one else?” - -Again the old Virginian squirmed. - -“Your mother has given me notes for unpaid interest.” - -“To you and Captain Barber?” repeated Morey, sitting up and looking at -the man beside him. - -“Yes.” - -“And you and Captain Barber will own our home?” - -“It would naturally be that way.” - -“How much do we owe you?” asked the boy suddenly and leaning forward in -the evening gloom. - -Major Carey coughed and arose nervously. - -“More than you can repay, my lad. More than I like to say.” - -“But I’m going to pay it,” said Morey in a desperate voice, laying his -hand on the Major’s arm to detain him. “I don’t know how, but I’m going -to do it. You think I’m a fool. I have been. If I hadn’t been soaked -full of ideas that I got from every one around me I’d have known. -And don’t you believe I got ’em all from my mother. I got ’em from -everything and everybody around here. But I understand now. I might -have understood long ago if I hadn’t been living the life every one -lives around here.” - -“Careful my boy. Remember, it is to your friends that you owe much.” - -“And I thank them,” retorted Morey angrily. “To those who have loaned -us money I’ll repay every cent. How much do we owe you?” - -“What I have told you is for your own good,” was Major Carey’s only -reply. The old Virginian’s indignation was rising. - -“Major Carey,” almost sobbed the boy, “don’t take offense. But why -didn’t you tell me this long ago?” - -“I tried to tell your mother, but it wasn’t possible. I’m sorry she has -to know.” - -For a moment the man and the boy stood in silence. Then Morey extended -his hand and made a brave effort to smile. - -“We won’t tell her--not just yet--Major Carey. Because a kid has been -a fool is no sign that he is going to keep it up. I’m game. I’m going -to be a man, and I’m going to have business sense. I’m going to ‘get -there’ and I’m not scared. Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock I’m coming -to the bank and I want to know the whole story.” - -Major Carey shook his head. - -“I’m afraid it’s too late.” - -“Too late to know what struck you?” laughed Morey. “Perhaps I’ve got -more brains than you think.” - -“At ten o’clock in the morning, then,” sighed Major Carey. - -“That’s the first business engagement I ever had,” replied Morey, “and -I rather like it. I’ll be there.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -AN EXCITING INTERVIEW. - - -Old Marsh Green was perhaps the poorest farmer in Rappahannock County. -But when it came to facts in relation to the Marshall family or the -land it had owned, his information was profuse and exact. When Morey -knocked on his cabin door at six o’clock the next morning and ordered -the white-haired darkey to turn out and saddle Betty and Jim, Marsh and -Amos were more than amazed. They were confounded. No Marshall had ever -risen at such an hour within the colored man’s recollection. - -“Somepin gwine come frum dis,” muttered Marsh. “Tain’t natchal.” - -Amos was greatly relieved to find that the early morning business did -not relate to the knife he had purloined. - -Marsh knew no more after Morey had accomplished his purpose. In an hour -and a half the boy and the “overseer” had ridden from one end of the -plantation to the other and across it; not only the present one hundred -and sixty-acre piece immediately about the “mansion,” but east and -west, north and south, over all the acres once attached to the place. -On a bit of paper Morey made a rough chart of the land as his father -had known and cultivated it and on each, parcel and division he set -down notes concerning the quality of the soil, when last cultivated by -the Marshalls, and its present physical condition. - -At nine o’clock he breakfasted with his mother and at ten o’clock he -was at the Barber Bank in Lee’s Court House, above which Major Carey -had an office. - -“I believe, Morey,” began Major Carey, “after giving this problem a -great deal of thought, that the best thing to do, possibly, would be to -let my son-in-law, Mr. Bradner, take charge of the matter.” - -“A stranger,” exclaimed Morey. - -“Well, you see,” explained Major Carey, “he knows the situation and he -can talk to your mother. I confess that I can’t, and you are rather -young to undertake it. It’s a business proposition now and he’s a -business man.” - -“We won’t talk to my mother at all. At least not yet. And, when we do, -I’ll do it. There’s no call to bring in an outsider. I’m ready for -business. Now what does this all mean?” - -Major Carey sighed and pointed to a chair on one side of a dusty, -paper-littered table. - -“It means,” began the planter money-lender, “that your mother owes -$14,092 with an additional $800 soon due.” - -Morey, instead of sitting down, sprang to his feet. - -“Why--why, we have never had all that money.” - -“That’s it. It began when your father was alive. Eleven thousand of it -he had. The rest of it is interest and--” - -“But my mother has money of her own. She had a fortune that is hers.” - -“So she believes,” explained Major Carey, “but, Morey, money is an -unknown quantity to your dear mother. She had and still has $5,000. It -is safely invested and brings a revenue of $300 a year. On that and -with what little your place has produced in the last three years you -have lived.” - -“My schooling cost more than that.” - -“There you have it. Captain Barber advanced the money for your school -bills.” - -Morey’s face whitened and his lip quivered. Then he leaned across the -table, his hand shaking, and exclaimed: - -“And that’s what you call looking out for our interests! How could you -let me make such a fool of myself? Do you imagine I hadn’t the manhood -to do the right thing?” - -“I’d have told you, but, my boy, your mother is different. She couldn’t -stand it.” - -“Yet you are willing now, when we are in over our heads and about ready -to drown, to let a stranger tell her.” - -“What can we do?” - -“You can treat me like a man. Go on,” said Morey stoutly. “Tell me what -has happened. If we are ‘all in’ I want to know just how deep the water -is. Don’t you be afraid. You’re not talking to Mother now.” - -Major Carey seemed almost to be saying to himself, “I wish I were.” His -restlessness increased. - -“There are three mortgages on Aspley Place,” he began, drawing a -green box from his old-fashioned desk. “The first one was made to the -Richmond Trust Co. and is on the big one hundred and eighty-acre piece -now in corn. This is for $4,500. On the two sixty-acre pieces to the -north, the meadow and the tobacco ground, there is a mortgage of -$3,000 for money advanced by Captain Barber. Just before your father -died I loaned him $3,750 on the one hundred and sixty-acre home piece -and the forty acres of low land on the east next the creek.” - -Morey’s lips were tightly set. Each new item came like a stab; but he -had his pencil out. - -“That’s $11,250,” he commented. - -“These notes all draw seven per cent,” explained the planter, -rising and laying off his coat, for the morning was warm and he was -perspiring. “That is $787.50 a year interest. Your mother has not been -in a position to meet these payments. I have advanced this amount -annually for three years.” - -“I must certainly thank you for that--” - -“And took her notes, which, of course, are morally protected by the -mortgage I hold on the home, and--” - -“That’s $2,262.50 more,” added Morey with a start. - -“Then,” added Major Carey, “your mother’s account at the bank is -overdrawn $580, four hundred of it for your Richmond bills.” - -The boy set down the items, added them, saw that they corresponded to -the other’s total and turned, without speaking, to gaze out of the -window into the street below. - -“And I reckon you all want your money,” he said in a low voice at last. - -“We are not pushing matters,” explained Major Carey, “but we have all -agreed that you ought to know the real facts.” - -“And this Richmond Trust Co. note,” broke in Morey suddenly. “I suppose -the note is due. Perhaps they won’t renew it. I don’t know much about -these things, but they could push us, couldn’t they? They might -foreclose on the land and take it, mightn’t they?” - -Major Carey coughed. “That note has passed into the hands of other -parties.” - -“Whose? Do you know?” - -“Captain Barber’s bank.” - -“Oh,” exclaimed Morey, “our bank? Yours and Captain Barber’s?” - -“Yes. But, of course, it is one of the bank’s assets now and the -directors are anxious to get their money.” - -“Why? Isn’t the interest enough? The security is certainly ample.” - -“That’s the trouble, Morey. The security is not the best. Farm lands -hereabouts have fallen so in value that we are calling in all loans of -that sort.” - -“That ground is worth $100 an acre, any way,” exclaimed Morey, glancing -at the chart he had made and the estimate he had secured from Marsh -Green. - -“Perhaps $25, but I doubt if that could be realized at a forced sale.” - -Morey’s face fell. - -“Isn’t any of it worth more than that?” - -“I’m afraid not.” - -“Then the whole plantation isn’t worth more than $15,000.” - -The Major nodded his head. - -“I reckon we are up against it,” exclaimed Morey with a grim smile. -“And I had figured it out to be worth $60,000 any way.” - -“Some of the old place isn’t worth $10 an acre,” replied the planter. -“The house you can not count as worth anything.” - -“Except to us,” broke in Morey stoutly. “To us it’s worth just enough -to make us want to keep it.” - -“There will be another $800 due as interest this fall,” the elder man -explained with a long face and puckered lips, “and I don’t see how I -can advance any more money to care for it.” - -Morey, who had been desperately trying to see some ray of light in the -chaos of financial gloom, had a sudden idea. - -“This land is really ours, still, isn’t it? That is, so long as the -mortgages are not foreclosed?” - -“Certainly,” answered Major Carey, a little nervously. - -“How comes it then that Captain Barber carted away our tobacco shed?” - -“Did he do that?” began Major Carey. “Yes, I believe he did. Well, it -was in ruins. I think he got your mother’s consent. Then there were the -taxes,” he continued, as if the thought had just come to him. “He had -advanced the money for taxes on the tobacco land.” - -“And the one hundred and eighty-acre corn piece?” persisted Morey. -“Marsh Green says he was ordered off it--that Captain Barber said it -belonged to the bank.” - -“No,” explained the Major, “not exactly that. But old Green couldn’t -farm it. He tried it the year after your father died and the weeds took -his crop.” - -“Who did farm it?” asked the boy, the Marshall jaw setting itself in -spite of his despair. - -“We tried to look after it for your mother--the bank.” - -“And the bank had two years’ corn crop on it?” - -“Yes, that is, it rented it out. But crops were poor both years. -And the ground is run down. There wasn’t much in it. We had to buy -fertilizer and pay taxes and--” - -“Was there anything in it?” - -Morey looked across the table at his father’s old friend. - -“Maybe--a little.” - -“You have everything figured out in cents that we owe you. Shouldn’t -there have been another column to show what you and the bank owes us?” - -“Do I understand, sir,” exclaimed Major Carey indignantly, “that you -are making charges? You don’t reckon we have taken advantage of your -mother? Young man, if it hadn’t been for our bank you’d be working at -day labor--” - -“And I expect to,” came the quick answer. “That’s neither here nor -there. You needn’t send Mr. Bradner to talk to my mother--you needn’t -say anything yourself. I’ll attend to this. I never earned a dollar in -my life but I can add and subtract. You’ve been mighty good to us, -Major Carey, and I’m not going to pay you with thanks. How long will -you give me to take up the obligations?” - -“How long? What d’you mean?” exclaimed Major Carey. - -“You don’t reckon I’m going to let the Barber Bank scoop up six -hundred acres of good Virginia dirt for $14,000 do you?” said Morey -significantly. “I don’t think my father’s old friend would be willing -to see us permit that.” - -Major Carey sprang to his feet. - -“All we want is our money,” exclaimed the planter in a thick voice. -“We’re entitled to that, you know.” - -“Certainly. But wouldn’t you rather have the land?” - -“That’s what I was going to suggest,” blurted out the Major, the banker -and money-lender in him coming to the top. - -Morey smiled. - -“I thought so,” he remarked tartly. - -“What do you mean?” shouted the Major, his face almost purple with -sudden rage. - -“I mean,” answered Morey coldly, “that for $14,000 you and Captain -Barber and Mr. Bradner--and I reckon that’s the Barber Bank--are -planning to get our plantation.” - -Major Carey exploded: - -“Young man, you have some high and mighty ideas. Aspley plantation is -dear at $20 an acre. This is the return for all my generosity.” - -“You’re getting seven per cent annually for your generosity,” retorted -the boy. - -“Are you prepared to pay this debt?” came from Major Carey savagely. - -“I’ll be prepared in time,” rejoined Morey with assurance. “Our farm -isn’t worth $20 an acre for tobacco. Perhaps it isn’t worth any more -for corn. But, you know, land can be used for other things. It’s worth -$200 an acre for fruit. I’ll sell enough of it to pay you all and I’ll -be ready to make good when the money’s due.” - -Major Carey sank into a chair. - -“And if you or Captain Barber or Mr. Bradner have any occasion to see -my mother on business in the meantime I suggest they make a report on -the two years’ use of our one hundred and eighty-acre corn piece. And, -by the way,” added Morey, “if my mother needs some small amounts of -money this summer I wish you would instruct Mr. Bradner to let her have -what she needs. You can charge it to our open corn rent account.” - -The perspiration was rolling from the excited planter’s face. Leaning -forward he grasped Morey by the arm. - -“You’re a fool,” he said huskily. - -“So you told me last night--that I resembled my mother.” - -“You don’t know what you are talking about. Who told you to say this?” - -“The foolishness I inherited from my mother. Good-bye!” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -A CONSULTATION WITH AN ATTORNEY. - - -It was one thing for Morey to announce that he meant to take care -of his mother’s debts. It was another thing to decide just how this -promise was to be carried out. But, although Morey had climbed the -dusty, narrow stairs to Major Carey’s office with nervous dread, he -came down with something of assurance--as far as one could make out -from the expression on the boy’s countenance. His face was red, he was -perspiring, his hat was well back on his mussed-up hair and he still -held, absent-mindedly, the scrap of paper on which he had been figuring. - -Within the entryway at the bottom of the stairs he paused, scratched -his head, took out and counted all the money he had in the -world--seventy-five cents. Then he laughed. - -“I only need $14,091.75 more,” he said. - -For some moments he gazed out into the almost silent street. On a -sudden impulse he pulled his hat down, started forward, and, reaching -the sidewalk, gazed to the right and left. Midway in the next block and -over the postoffice he saw a sign, in washed-out blue and pale gold: -“E. L. Lomax, Attorney and Counselor At Law. Fire Insurance and Money -Loaned.” - -He started toward it but, passing the drug store on the corner, he -entered, purchased a sheet of paper, an envelope and a stamp and on a -greasy soda water counter wrote this note: - - Lee’s Court House, Virginia. - - Mr. Glenn Curtiss, - Hammondsport, N. Y. - - Dear Sir.--My order of recent date concerning the purchase - of a six-cylinder aeroplane engine is hereby countermanded. - Circumstances have arisen that force me to ask you to stop - shipment; to wit, I have no money to pay for the engine. - - Your obedient servant, - - MORTIMER MARSHALL. - -Sealing and stamping the note, Morey ordered and drank a five-cent ice -cream soda as if to fortify himself, and then, dropping his letter in -the postoffice, he mounted the creaking stairs to the office of E. L. -Lomax. The door was open, but the place was deserted. A few law books, -a typewriter, white with dust, a box of sawdust used as a spittoon, a -stove crammed full of paper scraps as if already prepared for the next -winter, a disarranged desk and four walls almost completely covered -with insurance advertisements, and several brown and cracked maps of -Rappahannock County, confronted him. - -Morey turned to leave. On the door he saw a scrap of paper which -seemed to have been there many days. “Gone out. Back soon,” it read. -He turned, sat down and waited. An hour went by and the lawyer did not -appear. Morey determined to make some inquiries. As he reached the -bottom of the stairs a middle-aged man in a wide black hat and a long -coat, who was sitting in the window of the postoffice, rose and greeted -him. - -“Did you want to see me?” the man asked. - -“Are you Mr. Lomax?” - -The man, who had a large quid of tobacco in his mouth, of which -there were traces on his shirt front, carefully expectorated through -a grating on the flag stone sidewalk and waved his hand toward the -stairs, on which there were more signs of tobacco. - -“Well, so long, Judge,” drawled a man who had been sitting in the same -open window. - -“Are you Judge Lomax?” began Morey when the two had reached the musty -office above. In the vague roster of the town celebrities the name was -familiar to him. - -“How can I serve you?” answered the man, kicking the sawdust-filled -cuspidor into the middle of the floor. “I am Judge Lomax, but I have -retired from the bench.” - -“My name is Marshall, Mortimer Marshall.” - -“Colonel Aspley Marshall’s son?” - -“Yes sir.” - -“Proud to meet you, my boy. Yo’ fathah was one of my best friends. How -can I serve you?” - -“Do you deal in lands? Do you buy and sell property?” asked Morey -directly. - -“I am an attorney,” answered Judge Lomax, “but my legal business throws -me more or less into such business.” - -“Have you any knowledge of our place? That is, do you know anything -about the value of Aspley plantation?” - -“I know every foot of it. It is a fine bit of land.” - -“What is it worth?” - -Judge Lomax expectorated, rose and consulted one of the many land -charts hanging on the wall, and then opened a worn volume on the table -showing the farms of the county by section lines. - -“Well, as to that,” he answered evasively, “it is hard to say--off -hand. Are you desiring to sell the property?” - -“I want to borrow some money on it and, later perhaps, if the price is -right, we may sell it.” - -Judge Lomax looked out of the window. - -“I understand,” he said, after a pause, “that the entire place is -mortgaged.” - -“For $14,000,” answered Morey. “The Barber Bank holds the notes. They -are due this fall. I want to pay them and save the place. I can’t let -the land go for $14,000.” - -“That’s a good deal of money,” commented the lawyer. - -“But it’s nowhere near the value of the land. That’s only a little over -$20 an acre for it. The land is certainly worth more than that.” - -“I reckon, if you can find a buyer. But it’s pretty hard to dispose of -a parcel of ground of that size.” - -“How much is it worth, in your judgment, at a forced sale.” - -“I, ah, well, I could hardly say, off hand.” - -“How much will you lend me on it.” - -The lawyer shook his head. - -“Money is pretty close just now. And my clients are a little slow about -lending on these old tobacco plantations. We know they are good land, -but they don’t rank well as security.” - -“Couldn’t you lend me $15,000 at least?” asked Morey nervously. - -“I’ll look about for you and consult some of my moneyed clients.” - -“When can you give me an answer?” - -Judge Lomax knit his brows in thought and took a fresh chew of tobacco. - -“Just you wait here a minute,” he said at last. “I’ll run out and see a -party. Perhaps I can help you out.” - -The lawyer hastened from his office. Ten minutes went by and he had not -returned. The room was hot. Morey, in an effort to get a little fresh -air moved to one of the windows. He sat down in it and looked out. At -the same moment he caught sight of Judge Lomax on the steps of Barber’s -Bank, in the next block. By the side of the lawyer stood the tall, -heavy figure of Major Carey. Morey sprang up, looked again and then -watched the two men in earnest talk for several minutes. - -When the attorney came slowly into the room after another five minutes -Morey knew what the verdict would be. Instinctively he had come to a -quick conclusion. Judge Lomax had put him off until he could consult -the enemy. - -“I’m afraid,” began the lawyer, “that it’s going to be difficult to do -what you want. Money is pretty tight now.” - -“Then you can’t do it?” said Morey with composure. - -“Not just now--later, perhaps.” - -“You wouldn’t mind telling me what Major Carey instructed you to say -the land was worth?” continued the boy, successfully suppressing his -indignation. - -“What do you mean?” - -“You know what I mean. You’ve done me a low down trick. I saw you rush -right over to Barber and Carey for orders. Do you get a commission from -them for not dealing with me?” - -“I’ll kick you downstairs.” - -“Try it.” - -The boy stood ready, his clear eyes fixed on the embarrassed loan agent. - -“You’re not a lawyer,” sneered Morey, “you’re a shyster.” - -Judge Lomax started forward, but Morey squared himself. - -“Oh, I’m not afraid of you--tattle tale!” exclaimed the boy, knowing no -more expressive epithet. “Come on!” - -“If you weren’t a child--” - -“Got your orders, did you?” taunted Morey. “You’re a fine bunch here in -this town. I’ll see you all, later. And I’ll make you all feel so small -you can jump through a finger ring. And mark me,” added the boy, “if -_you_ ever get yourself mixed up with this Aspley place deal I’ll come -for you first.” - -He turned and was about to leave the room when something prompted him -to look around. The lawyer, white of face and trembling like a leaf, -had lunged forward and an iron paper weight whizzed past the boy’s head -striking and shattering the white frosted glass in the door. Morey -dodged, stumbled, recovered himself and then, his own anger getting the -better of him, he, too, sprang forward. The crazed lawyer was reaching -for some object on his disordered desk. Morey could not see what it -was--it might be a deadly weapon. He himself was unarmed. - -Alarmed and frenzied the boy threw himself forward, leaped on the -lawyer’s back, clasped him in his strong young arms just as he caught -sight of a revolver and then hurled the struggling man with all his -might to the floor. There was a crash as Judge Lomax’s head struck the -wooden cuspidor. The revolver rolled under the table and Morey ran from -the office. - -It was now noon. Lee’s Court House streets were deserted. Hastening to -the front of Barber’s Bank, where he had left Betty, Morey was about to -mount when, to his surprise, Captain Barber and Major Carey suddenly -appeared in the door of the bank. Morey was fighting mad. - -“I’ve just left your friend, Judge Lomax,” exclaimed the boy -impudently. “He’s on the floor of his office with a busted head. He -delivered your message all right.” - -“Morey,” said Major Carey sharply and sternly. “You’ve lost your -senses. You’re going too far. You’re making the mistake of your life.” - -“Somebody’s making a mistake--Judge Lomax did. You gentlemen have been -running this town so long that you think you own it. I reckon the -people here think you do. _I_ don’t.” - -[Illustration: MOREY RAN FROM THE OFFICE.] - -Major Carey came forward across the walk with all the dignity that was -commensurate with his indignation. - -“Come into the bank. We want to talk to you,” he ordered with the -authoritative tone of a parent. - -“Are you ready to make a settlement for the rent of the corn land?” - -A couple of bystanders were within earshot and the two bankers looked -at each other in alarm. - -“When I enter your office again, Major Carey, I’ll be ready to settle -with you. I hope you’ll be ready to settle with me.” - -And jumping on fat Betty’s back Morey loped down the dusty street -toward Aspley place two miles away. - -At home he found a note from Lieutenant Purcell with the returned -fishing rod. The note said: - - “My dear young friend: - - “I had hoped to bring the rod in person and to have the - pleasure of meeting you and your mother. I cannot thank you too - much for the kind invitation you gave me and am most grateful - for the use of your rod. I am forced today to proceed at once - to Washington in the line of my present duty and for some weeks - shall be stationed at Fort Meyer. Possibly, on my return, - after a month or so, we may meet again. - - “FRED PURCELL.” - -Morey passed a good part of the afternoon in his room. He thought, -figured, walked the floor and at times went out into the yard and -looked critically at things that, heretofore, he had never seen. At the -evening meal his mother commented on his quietness. She attributed it -to disappointment over the loss of his aeroplane motor. - -“After all, Mortimer,” she said indulgingly, “I’ve been wondering -today if we were not just a little hard with you. Perhaps it might be -arranged.” - -The boy smiled, patted his mother’s shapely hand and said: - -“Don’t bother about that, mater. I’ve put it out of my mind. Major -Carey’s arguments were absolutely convincing.” And he smiled again. - -“We never can repay Major Carey for all he has done for us,” said Mrs. -Marshall, sipping her tea. - -“Well, any way, I’m going to try,” answered Morey. - -But this meant nothing to Mrs. Marshall, who was buttering a biscuit. - -“You had quite a long talk with our old friend. What was the nicest -thing he said to you?” - -“He said I inherited some of your qualities,” answered Morey with -another smile. - -“The kind old flatterer,” murmured Morey’s mother. - -Nor could she then understand why Morey laughed so heartily. As the two -left the table, on an inspiration, the boy took his mother in his arms -and kissed her. It was the last kiss he gave her for some weeks. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE SECRET OF AN OLD DESK. - - -Full as the day had been for Morey the coming of night did not put a -stop to the working of his brain. Thinking seriously for the first time -in his life, he had enough to engage him. Concerning his encounter with -Judge Lomax he said nothing. In comparison with the difficult problem -of saving his mother’s property this encounter was a small matter. And -yet it was this that decided his first step in the struggle that was -before him. - -The boy was hungry for advice, the counsel of some good friend. His -first thought was of Lieutenant Purcell. The soldier was a stranger, -but Morey had already cut himself off from the people at Lee’s Court -House whom, twenty-four hours before, he would have counted as his best -friends. - -“There isn’t one of them, young or old,” said the lad to himself, “who -would give me a square deal if it cost them a cent.” And by “them” he -meant Carey, Barber and Bradner of the bank. - -Since Lieutenant Purcell had already left for Washington this avenue -of help was closed. Morey’s mother, of course, could be of no more -assistance than a child. Never before had Morey felt so lonesome. For -the first time he realized that he was fatherless and alone. When night -fell a breeze came down from the mountains and it became too cool to -stay outdoors. Mrs. Marshall, who had been sitting on the decaying -gallery, retired to the musty old parlor and after Mammy Ca’line had -lighted the crystal-hung table lamp, she made herself comfortable with -an ancient copy of Dickens. Morey, standing by her side, gazed upon the -shadowy painting of his father. - -Suddenly, out of the new longing in him, came an inspiration; he -bethought him of his father’s old room and desk and papers. Perhaps -there might be something there, some scrap to help him in his dilemma. -He had no idea what there might be among his father’s things. But at -least, since he had never even looked inside the desk, he wished to -do so. He did not speak of what was in his mind, for the room and its -contents were held almost sacred by his mother. - -Slipping quietly from his mother’s side, he had not reached the door -when she recalled him. - -“Mortimer,” she said in her tone of fine breeding, “I have been -worrying about you all evening. We have not been considerate enough. I -have been thinking of your dear father.” - -“Yes, mother, so have I.” - -“Major Carey says you take after me in some respects.” - -Morey smiled. - -“It is your father you resemble. This wild fancy of yours is natural. -If your father had had his way--” - -Then she paused and sighed. - -“What, mother? I never knew--” - -“You never knew that he spent two years abroad as a young man--that he -studied in Germany--chemistry I think.” - -Morey caught his mother’s arm. - -“Some foolish idea. But he abandoned it. His father wished otherwise -and he was as dutiful as you are going to be.” - -“What was it?” exclaimed Morey. “What was his idea? What were his -hopes?” - -His mother sighed again. - -“I never understood,” she added. “It was all behind him when I knew him -first. But it was something about paint made out of rocks or dirt--I -can’t remember now.” - -“And they wouldn’t let him work out his ambitions?” exclaimed Morey. - -His mother smiled. - -“He became a planter, a gentleman and my husband.” - -“Well,” said Morey, a little bitterly, “don’t think of me any more this -evening if it makes you think of father.” - -“And he had other notions,” continued Mrs. Marshall in a reminiscent -tone, “why, before we were married, he had a workshop somewhere here on -the plantation.” - -“What was he working on?” asked Morey abruptly. - -The mother shook her head. - -“I never knew,” she answered lightly, “but I do know, now, that his -boy ought not be blamed for having the same fancies. I know you’ll get -over them,” she said, patting his hand, “and that’s why I’ve relented. -It may be extravagant but, Morey, I’m not going to countermand your -purchase. You may have your engine.” - -His mother straightened up in her chair ready for Morey’s burst of -gratitude. But it did not come. - -“It’s awfully good of you,” said Morey slowly and with the tears almost -in his eyes, “but I’m reconciled. I think Major Carey knows best. We -can’t get it just now.” - -“Morey, I’m proud of you. There you are really like your father. He -quit his foolish experiments to please me.” And drawing the lad to her -she patted his cheek. - -Morey’s head filled with a dozen ideas--among them, the wild desire -to examine his father’s desk drew him like a magnet. When his mother -had returned to her book again the boy slipped into the hall. A single -candle flickered in the gloom. With this in his nervous fingers he made -his way to the hall above. He knew that his father’s old office and -study--the room in front across from his mother’s bed room was locked -but he knew, too, where her keys hung. From the hook at the head of -her bed he took these and, a moment later, he was in the long-locked -apartment. - -He had been in it before but never alone. The air was heavy and -hot. Between the two front windows stood the flat-topped table -with its three drawers on each side. In the room were many other -things--discarded clothing, two trunks, a case of books, a box of -plantation account books--all these Morey had seen and wondered at on -the few occasions when he had been permitted to remove, from time to -time, his father’s saddle, gun, rod and--only the fall before, as a -great prize--the old riding crop. - -But these things did not interest him now. Falling on his knees he drew -open the drawers, tight with disuse. Each was full; insurance policies, -bills of sale, weight tickets, auction lists, letters, small account -books. In one a case of pistols; in another, European guide books and -old steamship circulars. His hands covered with dust and his clothes -white with it he paused after a quick examination. Then, with boyish -impulse he turned again to the drawer containing the pistol case. As he -drew the case from its dusty bed he saw, beneath it, a flat packet of -blue paper tied with red tape. - -Holding the mahogany pistol box under one arm with his free hand he -lowered the dripping candle to the drawers. On the packet, about -eight inches long by four inches wide and an inch deep, he read with -difficulty, for the inscription was in faded brown ink: “To whom it may -concern. A dream of the future. Aspley Marshall, February 5th, 1889.” - -Grasping the package, he let the pistol case sink back into the drawer -and, his heart beating wildly, hurried from the room. Locking the -door and replacing the keys, he ran to his own little bedroom at the -far end of the dark and wide upper hallway. Lighting his own candle he -hesitated a moment and then slipped the rotten tape from the parcel. - -Opened, the packet turned out to be twelve sheets of heavy blue -letter paper. The two bottom ones were covered with the outlines of -a mechanical device resembling the cylinder of an engine. These were -in black with figures on them in red, and seemed to be front and side -elevations of some power apparatus. Next to them were two sheets of -formulæ in red figures with chemical equations. Morey made no attempt -to understand them. Like the projections on the last pages they were -beyond his comprehension. Between these four sheets and a single sheet -containing a few lines in brown ink on top, lay seven closely written -pages beginning, “Stuttgart, 1888--Last will and testament of a man -with a dream.” - -The inscription on the top sheet, evidently written later, was brief: - - “To whomsoever may take the trouble to open and read this - record: - - “To those who are striving to harness and apply the forces of - nature to man’s uses, these experiments are dedicated and - bequeathed. In the knowledge that hydrogen gas in its free and - pure state is the most powerful force known, I herein propound, - theoretically, the practicability of using it as a motive - power. The inefficiency of coal, as transformed into steam, - and the known high efficiency of hydrogen as an explosive - force being recognized, placing it first in the list of - potentialities, I suggest the introduction of hydrogen gas into - engine cylinders. The following pages discuss: - - “1. The liquefaction of pure hydrogen to render it practically - portable. - - “2. Its admixture with air behind a piston to secure a maximum - of expansive force. - - “In brief, a plan for indefinitely increasing the power of gas - engines by mixing unstable hydrogen with air.” - -Morey laid the sheets on the table as if they weighed pounds. He drew a -long breath and whistled. - -“Well, what do you think of that,” he exclaimed to himself. - -He had no idea what it meant. But that was not his first surprise. His -astonishment was over the fact that such a record had been made by his -father. That was more than he could reason out. Then he read the top -sheet again. - -“The practicability of using hydrogen gas as a motive power!” - -Suddenly a bit of information Morey had learned at Hammondsport came -back to him--“hydrogen is sixteen times as powerful as dynamite.” - -He began thinking. “When my father wrote that we had no automobiles and -no automobile motors. We had not even dreamed of the aeroplane and the -delicate, powerful engine it demands. His idea must have been a dream. -If he had a practical plan for increasing the efficiency of the motor -he thought ahead of his day.” - -Morey tried to examine further into the technical manuscript. But it -was wholly beyond him. In the midst of his examination he sprang to his -feet. - -“The trouble with aeroplanes,” he said to himself, “is that the power -developed is not sufficient. My father’s dream may solve the problem. -His hydrogen may make engines powerful enough to make the perfect -airship.” - -The perplexities of the day seemed to disappear. Rays of hope burst -through the gloom of the boy’s despondency. Mingled with the wave of -sorrow that swept over him when he thought of his little understood, -and no doubt disappointed father, was a sudden glow of enthusiasm. He -would finish his father’s work. He would carry forward the dream into a -practical idea for the sake of his mother. - -It was nine o’clock. Tingling with excitement Morey hastily concealed -the precious manuscript and drawings in his trunk and sought his -mother. In the lower hall he heard a familiar low whistle. It was Amos -crouching in the dark at the foot of the stairs. The black boy put his -hand on Morey’s arm and motioned him silently to come out to the rear -of the house. He shook his head ominously. - -“Wha’ fo’ yo’ don’ tell me yo’ beat up Jedge Lummix?” - -“I didn’t beat him up,” laughed Morey. - -“Dey say yo’ nigh kilt ’im. De town’s all ’citement.” - -“Is he hurt?” asked Morey, a little alarmed. Then he told the colored -boy what had happened. At the end Amos shook his head. - -“I been to town fo’ a pail o’ lard. Marshall Robi’son gwine come fo’ -yo’ in de mornin’. Yo’ gwine be ’rested an’ locked up. Da’s what.” - -“Who told you?” asked Morey now thoroughly alarmed. “I only acted in -self defense. They can’t do anything to me.” - -“Mr. Robi’son done ast me was I Miss Marshall’s boy. An’ he said I kin -tell yo’ he gwine come an’ git yo’ tomorrer.” - -“Why didn’t he come today?” - -Amos shook his head. - -“Ain’t tol’ me dat. But yo’ better make has’e and see Major Carey.” - -“Is that what he told you to say?” asked Morey indignantly, clinching -his fists. - -“Da’s what he says prezacly.” - -Morey walked down the path in a feverish quandary, Amos following him -like a dog. Why had he not been arrested at once if a warrant was out? -Why should he be told to go and see Major Carey? The possibilities -alarmed him. What if he was arrested and fined? He had no money to pay -a fine. Would he be locked up in jail? Would the whole thing be used as -a club over him? And just when he had the big, new project in mind--a -resolution to put his father’s dream to the test? - -Suddenly a wild thought came to him. His face flushed and then his jaw -set. He did not mean to be arrested and submit to the disgrace of it; -he was determined to see and consult with those who would properly -estimate the value of his mother’s farm and sell it if possible; he -meant to find those who could understand the meaning of his father’s -secret. He had resolved to leave Aspley Place at once. But where should -he go? There was only one answer. He had but one friend old enough to -advise him--Lieutenant Fred Purcell. But Lieutenant Purcell was in -Washington. - -At eight o’clock the next morning, when Mammy Ca’line took Mrs. -Marshall’s black coffee to her room she found, beneath the door, a -note. She handed it to her mistress, who read: - - “Dear Mother: I have gone away for a short time--a few weeks, I - reckon. It’s on business. Amos is with me. I took him because - I know you’ll feel better about my going. Don’t worry. I can’t - tell you where I am. In a short time I’ll write. You’ll hear - that I licked Judge Lomax. I didn’t. He insulted me and I - protected myself. If Major Carey or Captain Barber asks you - where I am, tell him it’s none of their business. I’m sorry I - couldn’t tell you good-bye, but I was afraid you wouldn’t stand - for what I’m doing, and I had to go. - - “Your loving son, - - “MOREY.” - - - - -CHAPTER X - -AMOS BECOMES A SANCHO PANZA. - - -“Amos, we’re going traveling,” exclaimed Morey. - -“Yo’ gwine run away?” - -“I’m going to run away and you are going with me.” - -“No, sah. I ain’t done no hahm. I ain’t skeered.” - -“I’m not scared, exactly, but I’m going away. I am going to seek my -fortune.” The boy smiled as he said it. Could he have seen the black -boy’s face he would have been puzzled indeed. - -“Wha’ dat yo’ sayin’, Marse Morey?” - -“I’m going to leave this place; goin’ away to do something--to help -myself.” - -“Yo’ is skeered--da’s what.” - -“Well, let it go at that. Tonight I’m goin’ to duck--vamoose. I won’t -be back here for a good many days--perhaps.” - -“Da’s foolish talk, Marse Morey. How come it yo’ gwine away when yo’ -all jes’ got home to yo’ ma?” - -“You might understand and you might not, Amos. It is a new story but it -is a long one already. All you have to know is this--did you ever hear -of any one working for a living?” - -“Not no white person, ’less’n he wanted to.” - -“I want to. I’m in trouble. It’ll be worse if I stay around here. So -we’re going to Washington.” - -“Yo’ and yo’ ma?” - -“You and me!” - -“Me?” - -“We are going to slip away tonight. If I had money I wouldn’t take you. -I’d go on the train. But I haven’t any money. So I’m going to drive -there in the surrey with Betty.” - -“Me gwine to Whas’ton?” - -“Tonight. And we start as soon as we can get ready.” - -The black boy had edged away in a state of half terror. - -“No, sah, chile. No, sah, Marse Morey. My pa won’t let me.” - -“Your father won’t know anything about it. And my mother won’t. That’s -the reason we are going. If you speak of it to your father I’ll thrash -you. Do you hear?” - -“I cain’t go to no Wash’ton now. I’se gwine camp meetin’ Sunday.” - -“You’ll probably be camping by the roadside next Sunday,” laughed Morey. - -“No, sah, Marse Morey, I can’t do dat. I been to Linden once when -de circus show was dere and pa done lambast me fo’ dat. How fur dat -Wash’ton?” - -“About seventy-five miles.” - -“An’ yo’ reckon we gwine git dar wid ole Betty?” - -“Or walk.” - -“Escuse me. Escuse me. How yo’ mean ’bout dat ‘fortune and wukkin’?” - -“I mean, Amos, that things aren’t going right around here. We may have -to move away from Aspley Place.” - -“Yo’ done makin’ spoht--” - -“I can’t tell you about it, but I’ve got to go away to arrange things -so that my mother and your father and Mammy Ca’line and you and I can -stay here. If you don’t come along and help me and look after Betty -we’ll have to find another home.” - -Amos was open-mouthed. - -“We all ain’t got no other home, Marse Morey. We’s bound to stay here. -Who gwine make us go ’way?” - -“Never mind, now. But if you won’t go I’ll have to go alone. I thought -you’d stick by me.” - -“Who gwine do chores fo’ Mammy?” - -“Who’s going to look after me?” answered Morey. - -The black boy was in a quandary. - -“I reckon yo’ ma gwine blame me fo’ dis.” - -“Amos, did you ever hear of Don Quixote?” - -“Dat a seegar?” - -“Don Quixote was a man. He lived a long time ago--before even the -Marshalls began to raise tobacco. He was poor as, as, well as we are. -But, like a young man I know, this didn’t seem to make much difference -to him. He sat, day after day, reading books about impossible things -for this was in the time of chivalry--” - -“Yas, sah--I knows dat--chivaree. Da’s when yo’ get married.” - -Morey laughed, stopped his story and laying his hand on Amos’ arm led -him into the dark, silent house, up the stairs to his room and, closing -the door, lit his candle. - -“Like to hear more about Don Quixote?” he asked, sitting down on his -trunk. - -“I ain’t hear ’bout him.” - -“Well, he was a fine fellow, only he was crazy. He got so twisted in -his head that he couldn’t see anything straight. He thought his home -and the things about him were all right. But the place was tumbling -over his head and he didn’t know it. When his servant stole chickens -for him--” - -“Who stole chickens? I ain’t steal no chickens. We done borrow ouah -chickens.” - -Morey held up a warning finger, with a smile. - -“He couldn’t even see that the barn was rotten and no use; that there -were weeds all over his place; that the house was too old to stand up.” - -Amos sighed and knit his brows in an effort to connect the old knight -with something he could grasp mentally. - -“And that wasn’t the worst,” went on Morey, “when Don Quixote got -so bad that he began to ‘see things’; when he was ‘conjured’ out of -his wits, he up, one day, and decided to leave his home and seek his -fortune in other places.” - -“He done gwine to Wash’ton?” - -“About the same thing,” explained Morey. “He took his old horse and -rode away looking for--well everything he didn’t have at home.” - -“Dey gwine to take his farm away?” - -“No,” went on Morey, “he just went because he had a foolish idea that -the impossible things he had read about might come true.” - -Amos sighed again. - -“Dey comin’ fo’ yo’ in de mawnin’” he interrupted. - -“That isn’t all about Don Quixote. He went away and everything turned -out wrong. If it hadn’t been for one thing the old man would have -starved. He had all kinds of trouble. How do you reckon he got home -again, all safe and sound?” - -“How dat?” queried the black boy, straining his wits to understand. - -“I say, the old Knight of La Mancha, in other words, Don Quixote, -filled with the delusion that the world was really a land of chivalry, -which in truth had even then passed away, set forth upon his knightly -steed to do deeds of valor in honor of fair ladies and to show his -courage. Instead he found only derision, cuffs, kicks and a foodless -reception. How then, do you imagine he was able to return home again?” - -“Mus’ ’a been dat chivaree.” - -“Listen, Amos, this crazy old man got back home because the only person -in all the world who really cared for him went with him and looked -after him.” - -“He done have a colored man?” - -“Almost. He had old Sancho Panza. Sancho was his boy, and he never left -him.” - -Amos was in sore straits. Morey said no more for a few moments, but he -began making preparations for his departure. He laid out a few clothes -and took down the old, battered traveling bag that he had unpacked but -the day before; the black boy’s eyes filled with tears. - -“Marse Morey,” whimpered Amos, “yo’ ain’t foolin’ me? Yo’ sho’ gwine -away to Wash’ton?” - -“As soon as I can pack my grip, write a note to my mother, get together -all Mammy Ca’line’s loose food and hitch up.” - -“An’ yo’ ain’t goin’ to tell yo’ ma?” - -Morey shook his head. - -“But she ain’t gwine skin yo’ like my pa trounce me!” - -“I’ll see that you aren’t punished.” - -Big tears rolled down Amos’ sunken cheeks. Then his big black hands -wandered over his patched and tattered garments. As Morey laid some -fresh linen in his valise the colored boy looked shamefacedly at his -own faded blue calico shirt. Then he dug his shoeless toes into the -carpet. - -Finally, with a gulp, he exclaimed: - -“Marse Morey, I jes’ natchally cain’t.” - -“Then I’ve got to go alone and take my chances,” answered Morey, -opening his trunk and taking out the blue packet, his father’s “dream,” -that was to mean so much to him. - -“I ain’t got no clo’es,” almost sobbed the black boy. - -“What’s the matter with your meetin’ pants and the shoes you had on -last night?” - -“Dem’s my _Sunday_ cloes!” - -“All right. Goodbye.” - -“Sides, pa’s in de cabin.” - -Morey turned, smiled and put his arm on Amos’ shoulder. - -“Of course you’re going. We’ve lived together all our lives. You go -and tell your father I want to see him right away, out on the kitchen -gallery. While he is gone pack up your duds. I’ll tell him to hitch up, -that we have to go to town. Hide your things in the surrey while he is -gone.” - -There was no delay in carrying out this plan. By the time Marsh Green -had responded to Morey’s summons, hooked up old Betty to the surrey and -brought the ancient equipage to the barnyard gate, Morey was ready. -His letter to his mother had been written and in the weeds and grass, -well down toward the front yard gate was a little pile of baggage, a -bulging traveling bag, a package of books and circulars, two blankets -and a basket of such food as he could find--two loaves of bread, a -dozen cold biscuits, a small paper of sugar, a few pinches of tea, a -quart cup, two glasses of jelly, a tin can of some preserves and a half -pound of salt pork. Amos’ baggage was not even tied in a bundle. - -“Marse Morey,” said old Marsh, as Morey and Amos climbed into the -creaking vehicle, “yo doin’ right. Go right to Major Carey. He git -yo’ outen yo’ trouble. But don’t yo’ go traipsin’ ’roun’ dat Captain -Barber. He ain’ no better dan Jedge Lummix. Go right to Major -Carey--he’s yo’ frien.’” - -“Still,” laughed Morey, “we might meet Marshal Robinson and he might -put me in jail. So goodbye until I see you again.” He held out his hand. - -“Go ’long, boy. Ain’t no Marshal Rob’ison gwine git yo’,” and the old -darkey chuckled. “Amos,” he added with mock sternness, “don’t yo’ come -back ’yar widdout Marse Morey.” - -“No, sah, I won’t,” responded the perturbed Amos. - -“Anyway, goodbye, Marsh, ’till we see you again. We may not come back -right away. Goodbye.” - -The old “overseer” turned away with another chuckle. - -“Major Carey’ll git yo’ outen yo’ mess. I’ll leab de gate open. Take -care ob dat hoss.” - -By the time sleepy Betty had reached Morey’s cache of clothing and -provisions, old Marsh was well on his way back to his cabin. As Morey -stored the valise, basket and blankets in the surrey, his hand fell -on a hard round object. Drawing it out into the pale starlight he -discovered something tied in an old red bandanna handkerchief. - -“This yours, Amos?” he asked, feeling the unyielding contents. - -“Das mine, shorely.” - -“What is it?” - -“Ain’t we gwine to Washn’ton?” - -“As soon as we can get there!” - -“Ain’t dat officer man dar?” - -“Lieutenant Purcell? Yes. But--” - -“Da’s my rock.” - -“Your rock?” - -“Da’s ma rock from de crick. Dat soldier man gwine to git his if we -eber comes togedder.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -MOREY MAKES AMOS A NOTE. - - -It was eleven o’clock of a moonless June night when Morey and Amos -closed the disjointed gate and turned their backs on Aspley Place. -There was a little chill in the air and the vapor of dew. On each side -of the broad and rough dirt road little more could be seen than the -creeper-covered fences. Neither cabin nor farmhouse showed a light. -Even over the distant village of Lee’s Court House, toward which old -Betty’s head was turned, hung a pall of blackness. - -Morey was in high spirits. Considering the dire possibilities of his -flight he might well have been downhearted. But the spell of coming -adventure was on him. He patted his feet on the rickety bottom of the -surrey, he whistled, he cocked his feet on the loose dashboard as he -smacked the lines on Betty’s back, and he hummed the darky songs that -Amos knew. But Amos did not join in the choruses. The black boy was far -from being in jovial spirits. - -“Yo’ all ain’t gwine plumb thro’ de town is yo’?” - -This was his first concern. - -“You don’t think the marshal is awake now, do you?” answered Morey, -with a resounding “Giddap, Betty.” - -“He’s loafin’ on de square, ef de saloons is open,” Amos assured him. - -“Perhaps it would be safer to go around,” concluded Morey, “but it’s a -long way.” - -There were no side streets in the village. - -“De longes’ way roun’ is de bestes’,” was Amos’ advice. - -As they approached the village, more than one light could be seen, and -Morey, a little to his own disgust, permitted himself to turn out and -make a long detour around the town. This accomplished, it was then -nearly midnight--he took the main road to Warrenton. That town was -fifteen miles distant. It had now grown so cool that both boys wrapped -blankets about themselves, and half asleep and with little to say, they -bobbed against each other while Betty jogged along. - -The night seemed endless. There was no comfort in trying to sleep -curled up on the rear seat--the road was too rough. Suddenly Morey -roused himself. He had fallen asleep, and he awoke to find Betty -standing by the roadside, nibbling at the clover in the fence corner. -It was lighting up in the east and the haze of early dawn outlined the -road dropping away before him into a wide valley over which lay a heavy -mist. Amos was leaning against him, sound asleep. It was time for Betty -to rest and feed. - -Pushing the tired animal forward again until the bottom of the valley -was reached, Morey came to what he was looking for--a little creek. -Running south was a “river” road. Turning on to this until he was well -into a bottom land grove of trees, he aroused Amos. - -“Wake up, boy; camp number one!” - -The colored boy aroused himself and then fell over asleep again. - -“Breakfast!” exclaimed Morey in his ear. - -Instantly he bolted upright, glanced about in an alarmed way and -groaned. Blinking his eyes he whispered: - -“Marse Morey, I done had a bad dream.” - -“Well, you dream about unhooking Betty and finding her some water and -grass.” - -“I done dream dat old crazy man yo’ all’s tellin’ ’bout been chasin’ -me.” - -“Don Quixote?” - -“Da’s him. He been ridin’ right hyar wid us in de back seat.” And Amos -turned suddenly as if expecting to see the ghost of the old knight -sitting in the surrey. - -Morey laughed as he forced Betty through the underbrush. - -“What did he say?” - -“He been shoutin’ ‘Go on, niggah! Go on, white boy! I’s wid you!’ No, -sah, I ain’t gwine on, I’s gwine home. Dat ol’ boy sho’ly don’ mean -no good. Da’s his ghos’--I seen him. He cain’t conjure me, no, sah. I -don’t reckon I’ll go no furder. Marse Morey, dat ol’ hoss done played -out a’ready.” - -Morey was on the ground limbering his stiffened limbs and laughing. - -“If I could just find my knife I lost,” he murmured while he felt in -his pockets, “I’d cut a new whip.” - -Amos started, opened his mouth and closed it nervously and then climbed -from the surrey without further comment. - -“If any one stole that knife,” continued Morey, “and I ever found it -out I’d get Marshal Robinson to lock him up. I paid a dollar and a half -for that knife--” - -Amos was already busy with Betty. There was no further complaint about -old Don Quixote conjuring him. When the mare had been watered in the -creek and tied in a bunch of grass where she might find what sustenance -she could, the sleepy boys had some cold biscuits, jelly and water, -and, with a blanket under them and another over them, they turned in -for a nap. - -About noon Morey awoke, stiffer than ever and hungry as a young bear. -The sun had made its way down through the foliage and he was wet with -perspiration. Amos, the blanket still over his head, was snoring -like a rip saw. As the white boy reached over to twist Amos’ nose -his hand felt something hard on the blanket by his side. It was his -purloined knife. It had slipped from the black boy’s pocket. When Amos -finally aroused himself he saw his white companion sitting by his side -carefully examining the knife. - -A look of wild alarm lengthened Amos’ face. Clasping his big black hand -against his pocket he exclaimed: - -“Whar yo’ git dat?” - -Morey smiled and pointed to their improvised bed. - -“I found it here between us--here on the blanket.” - -“I ain’t stole no knife! Yo’ ain’t ’spicion me, is yo’?” - -“I’d hate to think you’d steal.” - -“Cross ma h’aht, I ain’t stole yo’ knife.” - -Morey smiled. - -“I wonder who put it here?” he said. - -“Marse Morey,” exclaimed Amos suddenly. “I know who done bring yo’ -knife back. De ghos’ ob de ole crazy man, he brung it. Dat ol’ ghos’ I -see in de back seat, he tryin’ to conjure us. Da’s what.” - -“Old Don Quixote’s spirit?” - -“Dat old crazy man’s sure wid us. Better look out, Marse Morey. I’se -gwine put a charm on de ole conjure dis night ef I kin fin’ any spunk -water.” - -“And you didn’t take my knife?” - -“Don’t you ’sult me, Marse Morey. Don’t yo’ let ole Keyhole put sech -notions in yo’ head. How come dat knife hyar? Yo’ ast old Keyhole -ghos’--don’ ast me. I reckon we better be gittin ouah eatin’.” - -The noonday meal made deep inroads in the stock of provisions. When the -adventurers had reached the main road again, crossed the stream and -ascended to the far side of the valley, Warrenton was before them. They -were less than twenty miles from home and were a little nervous about -being seen so near to Lee’s Court House, but it was necessary to pass -through the village to inquire their way. This led them almost north. - -At two o’clock Betty pulled into the settlement of Baltimore in Farquar -county. The next town would be Centerville in Fairfax County, eighteen -miles beyond. Baltimore was a crossroads village with a “hotel,” a -blacksmith shop and two stores. At the hotel, where Betty was watered -from a moss-covered wooden trough as big as a bath tub, Morey spent -twenty-five cents of his fortune for oats. Crossing the street to the -general store, he expended twenty cents more for bologna sausage and -five cents for some very old and musty crackers. - -About four o’clock, in a shady spot by a little unbridged stream, a -halt was made and Betty was given water and oats. The two boys regaled -themselves with bread, bologna and jelly. The afternoon was drowsily -warm. Betty was tired and the cool shade was inviting. Both boys fell -into a doze. In a half hour or so Morey was awakened by a violent -torrent of exclamations. Amos was chasing and belaboring a gaunt -roadside hog. Of their food the only article left by this rascally -thief was the tin of preserves. The last of their bread, crackers and -all their pork had disappeared. When Amos returned, hot and angry, he -held a scrap of salt pork rind. - -“Why didn’t you put the things in the wagon, Sancho?” laughed Morey. - -“Dat ain’t no Sanko, da’s a hog. All ouah suppah and breakfus’ and -dinnah gone now. How far dat Wash’ton?” - -“We’ll get there tomorrow,” explained the white boy with another laugh. - -Amos scratched his head. - -“We gwine to eat, den?” - -“If we have luck.” - -“Den I reckon we better has’en on.” - -Further investigation revealed another calamity. Betty, prowling about, -had discovered the paper bag of oats in the rear of the surrey. She had -leisurely consumed the feed reserve. - -“Never mind,” expostulated Morey, “there’s grass and water.” - -“I cain’t eat no grass,” remonstrated the black boy. - -“Here’s preserves,” suggested Morey. - -“I wants meat, da’s what I wants.” - -“You’ve had enough meat for one day,” laughed Morey, who, being full -of bologna sausage, crackers and jelly, refused to bother about the -future. “We can boil some greens in our quart cup this evening.” - -The colored boy began to wipe the piece of pork rind on the grass. - -“But no pork--just grass and water,” went on Morey. - -At seven o’clock the white houses of Centerville rose above the -orchards on a distant hill. The road was up grade and Amos had been -walking to relieve Betty. He had been shaking his head and growling -about the absence of supper. They had just passed a cabin, some -distance back from the road, when Morey heard a squawk and a flutter -and turned in time to see the colored boy throw himself on a fat hen. -Before Morey could call out Amos was on his feet and with one swift, -deft whirl he had wrung the chicken’s neck. Springing forward he hurled -the still kicking fowl into the wagon and springing up behind called -out: - -“Git goin’, Marse Morey, de ole woman comin’.” - -Over the tops of the fence weeds Morey could just make out an excited -colored woman waddling towards the road stile. - -“Da’s mah chicken, da’s mah fowl,” she was crying. - -“Giddap, Betty,” shouted Amos. “De ole woman got a stick. Make has’e.” - -Instead, Morey drew the old horse up sharply and sprang out. - -As the panic-stricken old mammy came rolling down the road, shaking her -stick and yelling “Da’s mah chicken,” the white boy began calling, in -turn: - -“All right, Aunty, don’t get excited. We made a mistake.” - -“Gib me mah fowl,” wailed the colored woman. - -“Two bits,” shouted Morey, “two bits.” - -As he held up his last quarter the old colored woman’s angry face -softened. Having satisfied her, Morey returned to the vehicle and the -astounded Amos. - -“Now,” began Morey, “if we should happen upon a toll gate, we’re stuck. -I haven’t a cent.” - -Amos shifted uneasily. - -“Wha’fo’ you gwine waste yo’ two bits dat way? We could git away!” - -“It was burning a hole in my pocket,” answered his white companion. -“But, Amos, when you want to steal you’d better not let me know it.” - -“Dat wan’t stealin’. Da’s a wild chicken.” - -“I hope it is. We’ll have game for breakfast.” - -“Yo’ jes’ fro’ dat two bits away,” growled Amos. - -Betty had been urged ahead and Centerville was just before them. Amos -had crawled into the rear seat and was mumbling to himself about the -chicken and the squandered quarter. At last Morey felt a touch on his -arm. - -“Ef we all had dat money we could get some crackers and cheese, -couldn’t we?” - -“You’ll get chicken broiled on a stick if you get anything tonight. But -I reckon we ought to save the chicken for tomorrow.” - -“Cheese and crackers would go pow’ful well. Dey’s got cheese in dis -town.” - -Morey whirled about to retort angrily that the “quarter” episode was -closed. But, instead of reprimanding his colored servitor, he paused -with mouth wide open. Amos’ big black hand was stretched out towards -him. In it were six nickels. - -“Dat two bits?” inquired Amos, in doubt. - -“Where did you get that?” asked Morey, recovering from his surprise. - -“I’s got money, I has. Dar’s yo’ two bits yo’ fussin’ ’bout.” - -“Have you any more?” asked the white boy, eagerly. - -“I’s got mah banjo money. I been savin’ fo’ to git a banjo fo’ two -berry-pickin’s.” - -“How much?” - -Amos shook his head. - -“Ah been too busy to ezackly count it.” - -“Let me see--let me count it.” - -Slowly and with some misgiving, Amos drew from his pocket a long-used -handkerchief with a knot in one corner. Morey pulled up Betty along the -road and climbed into the rear of the surrey. Hardly waiting for the -hesitating black boy to hand over the little treasure Morey took the -handkerchief, slipped the knot and dumped the earnings of many a day’s -work in the berry patches on the seat. - -A crumpled two dollar bill; three silver half dollars; three dimes; six -nickels, and twenty-eight copper cents. - -“Good for you, Amos! Why didn’t you tell me you had all this money?” - -“How much money I got dar?” - -“Four dollars and thirty-eight cents.” - -“How much is dat, wid dis?” asked Amos, holding out his six nickels. - -“That makes four dollars and fifty-eight cents.” - -“Da’s why I’s goin’,” exclaimed Amos, his eyes glittering for the first -time that day, and his sunken cheeks swelling with a happy smile. “I’se -gwine to Wash’ton to git mah banjo.” - -Morey gathered up the loose coins, took the nickels from Amos’ clinched -fingers and slowly dropped the treasure into his own pocket. The black -boy gazed open mouthed--too alarmed to speak. This done, Morey took out -his little note book, his pencil, and on a page of the book he wrote, -hastily: - - “I promise to pay Amos Green $4.58 one day after date, at 7% - interest. - - “MORTIMER MARSHALL.” - -“There, Amos, that’s a note. I’ve borrowed your money. You’ll -get interest on it now. We’ll stop at the Grand Central Hotel in -Centerville tonight like gentlemen. Giddap, Betty.” - -And, while the stiffened old mare began trotting along again toward the -village, Amos sat as if in a trance, with Morey’s note in his clumsy -fingers. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE RUNAWAYS DISCOVERED. - - -A little after seven o’clock, those citizens of Centerville who were -diligently loafing in front of the Center House, were amused to see a -wobbling vehicle dash up to that hostelry with an extraordinary burst -of speed. It was hardly necessary to check the steed that drew the -Marshall surrey, for old Betty stopped of her own accord at sight of -the water trough. - -“Boy,” exclaimed Morey, in a gracious but positive command, “see to the -animal.” - -Amos was nonplussed. In the days when the Center House was the Fairfax -Inn there had been ample stable and coach room in the rear, but these -existed no longer. While Morey made his way into the office of the -hotel, Amos stood holding Betty’s bridle. Morey registered: “Mortimer -Marshall and servant, Lee’s Court House, Va.” - -“Want a regular room for the nigger?” asked the proprietor. - -That had not occurred to Morey. - -“What are your rates?” he asked, a little alarmed. - -“Supper’s over,” explained the host, “unless you want a special meal. -Reg’lar rates $2 per day.” Then he looked out and had another glance -at Amos. “I reckon I kin make it half price fur the boy. But ef we git -supper for you it’ll be extra.” - -Morey made a rapid calculation. He was tired and hungry and wanted a -bath. It couldn’t come to over $2.50. - -“I am traveling,” he answered, “and a little tired. The accommodations -along the road are not the best. If you have a young chicken I’d like -it broiled with a baked potato, some hot biscuits, fruit and coffee. My -boy will eat with me--” - -“We’ve got ham and eggs and tea,” remarked the landlord. - -“That will do very nicely,” replied Morey smiling. - -“What you goin’ to do with your hoss?” - -“My servant will look after the animal.” - -“Hain’t got no stable here. Two blocks up,” exclaimed the Center House -host, as he retreated toward the kitchen. - -When Amos had carried Morey’s bag into the office he drove Betty to -“Abson’s Livery, Feed and Sale Stable,” while Morey, unassisted as to -his bag, followed the proprietor to his room. Making a brief toilet he -waited for the supper bell. In the course of twenty minutes, hearing a -commotion outside, he stepped to the window. But it was too dark to see -anything. Yet his suspicions were aroused. - -“Hello boy, goin’ to meetin’?” - -“Purty slick nigger, eh?” - -Morey rushed downstairs. On the newly sprinkled board sidewalk and in -the full glare of the light stood Amos, a picture of smiles and colors. -In Morey’s trousers--his “meetin’ pants,”--shoes, and one of Morey’s -two-year-old hats, a starchless but glaring white shirt, a paper collar -and a blue ready-made necktie in which shone an elaborately mounted red -stone, Amos was ready for the admiration of Centerville. - -“Rigged out to beat yer boss!” shouted another humorist. - -“Yer meal’s ready,” interrupted the proprietor. - -Morey beckoned to the colored boy and led him into the dining-room. - -“What in the world does this mean, Amos? Where’d you get all this -stuff?” - -“Don’t you bodder ’bout whar I git dat. Dese is mah Sunday clo’es.” - -“This isn’t Sunday. What’d you dress up that way for?” - -“Whar I gwine leab ’em? I ain’t no trunk. I ain’t gwine leab dese -garmens’ in no liberty stable.” - -Morey laughed. - -“You’re pretty gay for a boy who hasn’t a cent!” - -“Cain’t I hab ten cents, Marse Morey?” - -“What do you want ten cents for? You’ve eaten.” - -“I allays has some cin’mon draps w’en I’s dressed up. An’ I wants one -dem cahds, one of dem pitcher cahds, to send back to pa at de Co’ht -House.” - -“You mean one of those picture postal cards?” - -“I ain’t nebber had none o’ dem cahds yit.” - -Morey laughed. - -“You can have cinnamon drops, Amos, but we’re not sending back post -cards yet.” - -The two boys consumed their ham and eggs and left the dining-room. - -“Mr. Marshall,” exclaimed the proprietor, as Morey passed through the -combination parlor and office, “I reckon you know ’taint customary for -colored persons to eat in the main dinin’ room.” - -“I don’t object,” answered the boy. - -“Some o’ the folks about here is findin’ fault.” - -“But we were in there alone.” - -“It’s the principle o’ the thing. Colored folks has their place.” - -“Why didn’t you say so before he went in?” - -“I reckoned you all knowed it.” - -“Well I didn’t. We’ll leave your place if you prefer.” - -“Oh ye’re welcome, yerself, an’ I reckon he kin stay. But I’m allowin’ -yo’ ought to pay extry fer him instid o’ half price.” - -Morey looked at the proprietor and his usually smiling face changed to -a cold expression. Then he smiled. - -“You are the proprietor, aren’t you?” - -“Me and my wife.” - -“Well, I am Mortimer Marshall, of Aspley Place, Lee’s Court House. In -my part of Virginia a contract is a contract. Where I go my boy goes.” - -“A nigger ’at kin dress like that coon, kin pay his bills, I reckon.” - -“Do you want your money now?” - -The landlord’s loud talk had attracted a half dozen town worthies who -now crowded into the little room. The landlord was mad. - -“I knowed who you was as soon as you drive up,” he retorted. - -As the agitated hotel keeper reached over and picked up a newspaper -from the ink-smeared desk the curious onlookers crowded forward, Amos -among them. The matter that had been the sole topic of conversation for -the last half hour was coming to a dramatic sequel. - -“I knowed you. I reckon you all thought we don’t see no newspapers in -Centerville. How about this piece in the paper?” - -Morey took the paper, followed the direction of a shaking finger and -read: - - MURDEROUS ASSAULT - ON MEMBER OF BENCH. - Scion of Aristocratic Virginia Family - Attacks Ex-Jurist. - - “Lee’s Court House, Virginia.--About noon today Mortimer - Marshall, the son of the late Colonel Aspley Marshall of Aspley - Place, made a mysterious and as yet unexplained attack on - Ex-Judge E. L. Lomax, in the latter’s offices in this city. - Marshall escaped, but will be arrested in the morning. The - jurist, who had lain unconscious for over an hour, finally - managed to call for assistance and he is now lying at his home - with probably fatal wounds. So far, he has been unable to give - but a fragmentary account of the assault which he says was - wholly unprovoked and made when his back was turned. Some blunt - instrument was used--” - -Morey threw the paper on the floor. - -“That’s a lie, mainly,” he exclaimed. - -“Anyway we don’t want no runaways in the Center House.” - -“Amos,” ordered Morey, “get my bag.” - -“Oh, I reckon not,” spoke up the hotel owner, “not ’till you pony up.” - -Amos responded promptly. One over-eager spectator, the one who had -referred to him as a “slick nigger,” he jostled smartly to one side. -With a set jaw and a look of defiance at the proprietor, Morey turned, -passed down the hall and mounted the stairs to the room assigned him. A -moment later he was in the office. Dropping his bag vigorously on the -floor he exclaimed: - -“What’s my bill?” - -The owner of the place had lost a little courage by this time. But he -stepped around behind the desk, cleared his throat and said: - -“You used that room and it’s the same as though you slept in it. That’s -a dollar. Your supper was 35 cents. The nigger’s supper’ll be 70 cents. -That’s $2.05.” - -Morey walked up to the desk. “The room may be $1.00 a day. You’ve -driven me out of it. I’ll not pay a cent for it. My supper is all right -and a good one for the money. This boy’s meal was to be half price. -That’s 17½ cents. My bill is 52½ cents. Here’s 53.” - -He slapped the coins on the desk and faced the spectators. - -“Now you loafers fall back or you’ll get what the ex-jurist got and -right in front instead of from behind. Scat!” - -A panic struck the open-mouthed Centerville citizens and they bumped -against each other in their fright. As the two boys were about to step -from the room the man behind the desk made a feeble request. - -“Some one o’ you git the marshal.” - -“For what?” snapped Morey. - -“Fo’ dis,” sounded by his side, and Amos, the bag in one hand, shoved -forward the red bandanna containing his carefully preserved rock. - -“De fus’ pusson crosses mah path gits dis on de haid. It’s a dornick.” - -Without interruption Morey and the valiant Amos made their way to -the livery barn. The proprietor, one of the panic-stricken hotel -spectators, came running after them. With nervous energy he assisted -Amos in hitching up Betty. - -“What’s _your_ bill?” asked Morey. - -The man hesitated. - -“I reckon you done owe me ’bout two bits.” - -Slowly climbing into the surrey, Morey said: - -“Here’s fifty cents for you and I want you to take a message to your -marshal. If he hasn’t a warrant for my arrest he’d better not follow -me. If he does--I’ll break his head.” - -“I reckon you all kin sleep in my barn if you ain’t got no hotel.” - -“Thanks,” retorted Morey, “I’ve had enough of Centerville. It’s small -potatoes.” - -Passing the drug and grocery store a moment later, in spite of the -already growing crowd of curious persons, he stopped Betty, alighted -and entered the place. - -“Got any cinnamon drops?” asked Morey. - -The proprietor, a little out of breath, finally discovered a jar of the -confection several years old. - -“Gimme a nickel’s worth!” - -Gaping faces were in the door while this transaction was in progress. -But as Morey left, a clear path instantly opened before the desperate -fugitive. - -“Amos,” he said, springing into the surrey, “here’s your cinnamon -drops. And for goodness’ sake don’t put on those clothes again without -telling me.” - -“Marse Morey,” exclaimed Amos with a sigh, “I’s ’bliged fo’ dem cin’mon -draps, but is we gwine drive all night?” - -“There is a real town on ahead, only seven miles. If the hotel is more -hospitable we’ll sleep there.” - -“How much ma’ money dat gwine cos’?” - -“Don’t you bother about money. I’m the one to worry. You are protected. -You have my note.” - -“I’s got de note all right. But I don’ see no banjo.” - -“Forget the banjo. We are playing for higher stakes.” - -“Steaks? We don’ need no steaks. We’s got a fat pullet.” - -“Eat your cinnamon drops and be happy,” laughed Morey. “Giddap,” he -clucked to the tired Betty and they rolled slowly out of Centerville. - -Suddenly, his mouth full of the spicy confection, Amos grabbed Morey by -the shoulder. - -“Don’ look dat way, look dis way.” - -Whirling the white boy on the seat Amos pointed to the western horizon. -The thin sickle of a new moon was just visible. - -“Yo’ come nigh seem’ dat moon ober yo’ right shoulder. Dat’d sho’ly -brung us bad luck.” - -“What shoulder did _you_ see it over?” - -“I almos’ seen it ober de left shoulder. I reckon we’s all right. But -I’s kind o’ skeered. Dat crazy ole man Keyhole boun’ to come back.” - -But if he had come back Amos would have been too tired to recognize the -ghost of the old knight. Still sucking at the cinnamon drops he soon -fell asleep. When he awoke Morey was dickering with the half-asleep -owner of a small hotel in Fairfax. A little of the young Virginian’s -assurance was gone. He rather humbly inquired the cost of lodging and -breakfast for himself and Amos and stabling for the horse and was glad -to close the contract at $1.50. - -It was midnight when he at last found his bed. Mr. Perry’s hotel was -really only a poorly patronized boarding house, but it gave Morey a -chance to get his clothes off and to crawl into a bed in which, though -it was poor enough, he could straighten out his tired legs. Amos slept -on a cot outside of Morey’s door. Nor did the boys have the luxury of -late hours. They were turned out promptly at the sound of a cracked -bell at six o’clock. At seven o’clock, having breakfasted on a few thin -slices of very fat bacon and one egg apiece, the refreshed wanderers -set forth. Washington, their Mecca, was but eighteen miles away. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -ARRIVAL AT FORT MEYER. - - -The day was just the kind to put vigor and enthusiasm into one. Old -Betty ambled along, reasonably frisky after a night’s rest, and the -country began to show signs of thickening population. Amos began to get -a little nervous. - -“How much money yo’ got now Marse Morey?” he inquired at last, -hesitatingly. - -“Oh, ’bout two dollars.” - -“How long dat ’gwine keep us when we git to Wash’ton?” - -“Quit your worryin’, Amos. I’ll look after you. I’ll see that you don’t -go hungry.” - -“How yo’ gwine do dat? I ain’t got no mo’ money.” - -“Well in a pinch, I’m going to sell Betty and the surrey.” - -The colored boy shook his head. - -“Yo’ don’ dast sell Betty. Yo’ ma’ll skin yo’ ef yo’ sell de ole hoss. -Sides, who gwine buy dis ole trap? Dat hoss ain’t wuff--” - -“Didn’t she carry us all the way here?” - -“She sho’ly did, but she cain’t carry us back. Dat hoss ready fo’ to -quit. She got de heaves.” - -“We can work,” moralized Morey. “We can make two dollars and a half a -day working.” - -“Yo’ ain’t come hyar to do no wuk, I reckon. How come you go to -Wash’ton, Marse Morey?” - -“I’m going to make our fortune, Amos. I’ve got a great invention that -I’m going to sell. It will give us all the money we can use. Then I’m -going to buy a banjo for you and we’re going back home on the cars and -fix up the place and be real farmers and have pigs and cows and horses -and paint the house and mend the fences and hire hands to run the farm.” - -“Look hyar, boy! Yo’ losin’ yo’ min’! Who tol’ yo’ we gwine do all dat? -Yo’ done been communin’ wid ole crazy man Keyhole.” - -“You wait and see--I’ve got something in my bag that is going to do all -that and more--when I sell it.” - -“We gwine to have money to ride on de steam cars?” - -“You just do as I tell you and follow me and you’ll not only ride on -the steam cars but you’ll eat on them.” - -“Eat on ’em? Who gwine have time to eat on de steam cars? Yo’ boun’ to -look outen de winder. I ain’t gwine have no time to eat on de cars. -Talkin’ bout eatin,” went on Amos, “I reckon we could eat now ef we had -de eatin’s.” - -“We dine in Washington this evening, Amos. We won’t bother about it -until then. Besides, I may not sell my big invention this evening and -we’ve got to string out our $2.” - -“Dar’s de chicken we done pay two bits fo’.” - -Morey reached down, caught hold of the stiffened fowl and threw it on -the roadside. - -“It’s too old to eat, Amos. Don’t you ever get enough food? We just had -breakfast. I’ll buy you a good dinner. Now shut up.” - -“One aigg an’ a piece o’ bacon yo’ couldn’ grease a saw wid! Dat ain’t -no breakfus’.” - -“Amos!” exclaimed Morey sharply. “If you don’t quit bothering me about -eating I’ll ask old man Keyhole tonight where he got that knife. I -reckon he knows.” - -“Well ef yo’ kin stan’ it, I kin. But I certainly is pow’ful hongry.” - -There was a little halt at noon to refresh Betty with water and a -nibble of grass, during which time Morey washed his face and hands in -the creek by the side of which they had stopped. Amos had returned to -his old clothes, but Morey now arranged a compromise costume for him, -discarding the pin, tie and hat and making him presentable in his best -trousers, shoes and white shirt. - -The smoke of Washington was already in sight. By four o’clock the -suburban farms had been reached and Amos saw for the first time the -environs of a city. The smart, up-to-date homes bewildered him and he -drank all in with wide eyes. They were on the highway that leads into -Alexandria and Morey was beginning to worry. Just what he was to do -now that he had reached the city he did not know. He could not figure -out what he and his companion were to attempt first. He would cross -the Potomac, enter the city and, he had almost decided, stop at the -first stable he could find and sell Betty. This went pretty hard with -him, but it was easier than facing the big city with a helpless colored -boy on his hands and only $1.88 in his pocket. With the few dollars -that he might get by this means they would find a cheap boarding -house and prepare to look up his friend, Lieutenant Purcell. If this -required several days or his funds ran out while he was engaged in his -negotiations he had one well-defined idea. He would find a job for -Amos, some simple labor at which the boy could make enough to keep both -going until fortune turned with them. - -Before reaching Alexandria the two boys found themselves among the -country villas of the middle-class suburbanites. Then the park-like -expanse and neatly trimmed hedges of Arlington Cemetery rose on their -right. Intent on this pleasing picture, which Amos was slow to believe -was a cemetery--a soldier’s grave-yard--Morey did not for a time -notice another institution on his left. But, when he did look and -saw the national colors fluttering from a tall, white flagstaff, and -the open parade ground and orderly rows of officers’ homes, he knew -instinctively that he had stumbled upon Fort Meyer at the front door of -the city. His heart leaped. - -Giving Betty a slap with the lines he hastened on toward the entrance, -through which, in the distance, he could already see a thin stream -of people passing. A moment later the surrey reached a sort of rear -entrance. Here a soldier on guard duty walked slowly back and forth. - -“Is this Fort Meyer?” Morey asked anxiously as they passed. - -“That’s what.” - -“May we drive in?” - -The soldier, dropping his gun to “parade rest,” shook his head but -jerked his thumb down the road where people on foot and in carriages -were entering. - -“Come to see the airship?” he remarked. - -“What airship?” asked Morey, eagerly. - -“I reckon you’re in time,” said the soldier smiling. “Always in time -for them boys. They fuss around all day and then tell you at dark that -it’s too windy. But I reckon they’ll go up today,” he added, glancing -skyward. - -“What airship is it?” persisted Morey, leaning half out of the vehicle. - -“They ain’t but one fur’s the army is concerned,” laughed the soldier, -shouldering his gun again--“Wright Brothers. Hustle along and make a -bluff. Maybe they’ll let old Dobbin in.” - -“Is Lieutenant Purcell here?” continued Morey, much excited. - -“If he ain’t gone to town, he is,” was the answer. “He ought to be -here. That’s his business. He’s the boss of the job.” - -A few minutes later Morey and Amos were in the line of spectators -making their way toward the reservation parade grounds. But Betty could -go only within the limits of the fort, where Morey turned her over to -Amos with orders to await his return. Then he hurried after the crowd. -Undoubtedly it was a gala day. Hundreds of fashionably dressed women -and smartly costumed men were defying the dust of the paths leading to -the wide parade grounds and officers with gold, red and yellow facings -on their uniforms were hurrying by in mule-drawn military busses. - -Near what seemed to be a sort of club-house a group of soldiers stood -idly. On the gallery, a number of guests were collected in animated -groups. While Morey was debating whether to make his way thither before -seeking the parade ground where, he had already learned, Orville Wright -was to give an exhibition test of his wonderful aeroplane, there -was the sharp blast of a bugle and the clatter of horses’ feet. An -open carriage dashed by with three men in it, preceded by a bunch of -galloping cavalrymen. Hats flew off in all directions and a few of the -spectators cheered. - -It was Morey’s first view of a President of the United States. Throwing -his own hat into the air he lit out on a run after the swiftly moving -carriage, and then, suddenly noticing that there were no other boys -present and that no one else was excited in just the same manner, he -calmed down and smiled. - -“Where’s the airship?” asked the boy, seeing that the President was -bound first for the club-house, but figuring that he would proceed to -the testing grounds. - -The smart young soldier to whom Morey had addressed his remark said: - -“The high white tent is where the big bugs’ll be. You keep away from -that or they’ll hustle you. Them secret service ducks got to make a -flash. They won’t let you in a mile o’ the President. The airship -stable is the wooden house between the tent and them barracks. An’ you -keep your eye peeled. They ain’t anxious to have kids around.” - -Morey had no trouble. He was frequently told to move on, but this did -not bother him. Long before the President and the other important -guests had arrived at the tent of honor the boy was a part of the group -before the airship house. He forgot Amos, Betty and even Lieutenant -Purcell. Pushing through the crowd he kept always in front, and, -whenever it became necessary to clear out the interfering spectators, -Morey was always the first one shoved aside. - -In the intervals he saw the mysterious machine, drank in its details, -watched all the fascinating work of preparation, gazed in open-mouthed -wonder on the wizard who was to demonstrate the wonders of the fragile -craft and, when he could, stole nearer to the magic apparatus. When the -tooting band marched across the worn and dusty expanse of the parade -ground, instead of rushing away with the crowd to welcome the Chief -Magistrate and the other distinguished guests, Morey took advantage of -the laxity of the guards to steal up to the shed itself. - -On a box sat two men, one of them the celebrated aviator whom Morey -had already seen inspecting the track, and the other a military man. -A workman had already sung out “Skiddoo, kid!” when a familiar voice -stopped the lad. Morey recognized at a glance Lieutenant Purcell, hot -of face, black of hands and in his shirt sleeves, but the soldier in -spite of all. - -“Get out!” exclaimed Mr. Wright. - -“One moment!” interrupted the officer, laying his hand on the aviator’s -arm and whispering to him: “Come here,” he added, motioning to Morey. - -“This is Morey, isn’t it?” he smiled, extending his soiled hand. “I’m -awfully glad to see you. Did you get the rod and my note? And what are -you doing here? Excursion?” - -“I drove here,” responded Morey, a little abashed, “and I came--I -reckon--I came to find you.” - -“To see me? Well, that’s good of you. Are you alone?” - -“Amos is with me,” laughed Morey. “Your friend, the colored boy.” - -“Oh, I remember,” laughed the officer. “I hope he is well.” - -“Well and hungry,” answered Morey. And then he blushed. - -“You came to see me?” went on the officer. “Then I hope, as soon as I -am through with our afternoon’s work, to see you at my quarters. Ask -any one for my house. Come for dinner and bring Amos. I must make my -peace with the boy.” And he laughed again. - -“Did you ever see an aeroplane before?” inquired Mr. Wright politely, -as if feeling that he had to say something. - -“I was around Mr. Curtiss’ shop a good deal last month,” explained -Morey, “and I’ve done some gliding myself.” - -“Oh I see,” interrupted Lieutenant Purcell. “Then you are interested.” - -“I certainly am,” said Morey. “That’s why I came here to see you. I -want to consult you about an idea I have--it was my father’s.” - -Mr. Wright smiled. - -“They’ve all got it,” he remarked. - -“They haven’t all got this,” replied Morey abruptly. “Even _you_ -haven’t got it. But I think you will have it, some day.” - -Both men looked at him questioningly. - -“Well,” answered Mr. Wright with a laugh, “we try a new idea every day. -Perhaps yours is the one we are after.” - -As the two men heard the sound of a bugle they sprang to their feet. - -“Can I help you launch her?” asked Morey anxiously. - -Mr. Wright laughed again. - -“Why not?” he answered. “If you have ideas about these machines you -certainly will beat these clumsy soldiers.” - -“Take off your coat, Morey,” remarked the Lieutenant, “and get busy. -Then, when we are through, we’ll see about your idea.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -A SCREW LOOSE. - - -Morey, elated over the great privilege granted him, lost no time in -taking advantage of it. While Mr. Wright, Lieutenant Purcell and the -experienced workmen who were to assist in launching the aeroplane were -hurrying the last preparations, he crowded close to the craft. It was -beautiful in its fragile symmetry and Morey hung over it as an artist -might examine a picture. An attendant was pouring in gasoline and -Mr. Wright was intently watching him when a middle-aged military man -entered the shed. - -“Everything all right?” he exclaimed in a full deep voice. - -“So far as we know,” answered Mr. Wright, smiling. “But that is what -we never know exactly. If I had a guarantee that it was, I wouldn’t -hesitate to go up a thousand feet.” - -As he said this he shook hands with the new arrival. Lieutenant Purcell -promptly saluted and exclaimed: “Major Squiers.” - -Morey took another look. This, then, was the head of the U. S. Signal -Corps--the army authority on ballooning and air navigation. Morey -knew that he was looking at the best posted man in the country on the -subject that so appealed to him, and he wondered if he might get the -opportunity to lay his father’s plans before such an authority. - -“Looks like a fine afternoon for the trial,” went on the visitor. “The -President is ready. You can go when you like. I wish you luck.” - -Just then his eye fell on Morey and he frowned. - -“He’s all right,” remarked Mr. Wright. “That’s our new assistant--he -isn’t in the way.” - -“Well,” said the Major--his frown relaxing--“you must look out for -strangers.” - -“I’ll answer for this young man,” spoke up Lieutenant Purcell. At the -same time he stepped to his superior and spoke in a low voice. - -Morey was already lost again in his intent examination of the airship. -He had never seen anything that so interested him. The machines at -Hammondsport were experimental and roughly finished. This white -winged, complete car appealed to his enthusiasm and he was already in -a land of dreams. If there had ever been any doubt about his ambition -this meeting with the great wizard of the air and this close contact -with his fairy-like creation would have decided Morey’s future. He -determined to become an aviator and the owner of such a craft if it -took years of effort. - -In the midst of his close inspection of the waiting machine the boy -started, looked again, and then turned to those in charge. The eager -attendants had just taken their stands ready to shoulder the long -spruce framework to carry it outside the house to the starting track. - -“Mr. Wright,” whispered Morey, touching the great inventor on the arm, -“look here. I think a link of your chain drive is bent.” - -Mr. Wright and Lieutenant Purcell sprang forward together as Morey -laid his finger on one of the little steel squares of the right hand -link belt used to connect one of the propellers with the engine. One -corner was bent sharply upward. The first examination showed that -the steel link was cracked. Mr. Wright spoke under his breath as his -helpers crowded about him and then ordered the doors closed. The next -few moments were busy ones. Every one sprang to the task of repairing -the damage. Mr. Wright with a wrench loosened the chain while others -brought punches and a substitute link. When the defective bit of -steel had been removed and a new link put in its place the perspiring -inventor arose, wiped his forehead, and turned to those watching him. -He had picked up the broken bit of metal. After looking at it intently -and showing it to Lieutenant Purcell he turned to Morey. - -[Illustration: MR. WRIGHT SPRANG FORWARD.] - -“How did you happen to see that, my boy?” - -“Oh, I just noticed it--I thought they ought to be perfect, all of -them. So I looked ’em all over. I knew a bad one might dump you.” - -“I certainly would have been dumped and worse. It might have been -my last flight. I can’t say much except that I thank you. Here,” he -added, laughing, “take this as a souvenir.” He handed Morey the broken -link. “And whenever you see it, just remember that I’d be glad to do -something for you.” - -A few minutes later the aeroplane was out and on the track and as it -sailed away to the applause of the hundreds watching it only a few -knew that the country boy already racing over the dusty parade ground -beneath the hovering airship had counted for so much in making the -experiment possible and successful. It was indeed successful, for it -was on this momentous day that Mr. Wright demonstrated to the Signal -Corps and the world that his aeroplane could fly forty-five miles an -hour. In doing this the machine was in the air a little over an hour. - -As it finally drifted toward the landing place after circling the -course many times the first face that the straining aviator made out -was Morey’s. And it was Morey’s proud assertion, many a time later, -that it was of him that Mr. Wright asked-- - -“Did I do it?” - -In the excitement that followed, Mr. Wright and Lieutenant Purcell -disappeared. As soon as the aircraft was within the shed those -gentlemen were carried away by Major Squiers to meet the President, -who had hastened forward compliment the nervy aviator. But Morey had -no thoughts of distinguished guests. With his coat off he now helped -to carry the aeroplane into the house and, with the other workmen, -to adjust it on its supporting trusses. The attendants were excited -and enthusiastic and they worked over the car as if it had been an -exhausted race horse, cleaning the engine, tightening the bolts holding -the wires and looking over every truss and brace for possible fracture. - -“Hello there, Morey--I thought we had lost you, I’ve been looking for -you. Why didn’t you come and see the President?” - -It was Lieutenant Purcell, looking spick and span in his full dress -uniform. - -“I didn’t know it was so late,” answered Morey. “But I’ve had a fine -time.” - -“I think we’ll have to make you a member of the corps,” remarked the -officer. - -Morey gave a startled look. - -“Me?” he exclaimed. “A member of the Signal Corps?” - -“Of course I was joking. But I never saw any one who seemed to take so -naturally to this as you do.” - -Morey had donned his coat and was walking with the officer toward the -barracks. They discussed generally the exciting events of the day and -then Morey returned to the suggestion made by his companion. - -“What do you mean by joining the corps?” - -“I was joking,” explained the Lieutenant. “Of course you couldn’t. You -would have to enlist as a soldier. I merely thought of it because we -are trying to find a few youngsters to train in this aeroplane service.” - -“Well,” exclaimed Morey promptly--his eyes glittering--“why couldn’t I -enlist as a soldier?” - -The lieutenant looked at him in surprise. - -“In the first place,” he replied with a smile, “I imagine your mother -would not consent or want you to do it. You are too young.” - -“But what if I had her consent?” - -“You couldn’t afford to do it. Soldiers don’t live as you live. You’d -have to work.” - -Morey was silent a few moments. Then, reaching the clubhouse, he asked -Lieutenant Purcell if they might not sit down at a table in a corner -of the wide gallery. In the next ten minutes the boy frankly told -the story of his situation. The officer listened in surprise, but -sympathetically. Nothing was omitted from the boy’s story. - -“I want to dispose of my father’s idea,” Morey concluded, “and I must -make arrangements to see that my mother is not driven from her home -by the men she thinks are her best friends. But when those things are -accomplished I’ve got to go to work for a living. I’m no farmer and was -never meant to be one. If, by joining the army, I can enter the signal -corps to study aviation, I’d like to do it. I _mean_ to do it.” - -His friend took his hand. - -“My boy,” exclaimed Lieutenant Purcell, “you certainly have a task -ahead of you. I can see that you mean to accomplish it. But, you’ll -need help. I’m going to help you all I can. We’ll begin this evening. -Major Squiers will be at my home for dinner. We’ll begin with him so -far as your father’s plans are concerned. You’ll stay with me tonight, -and tomorrow I’ll take you into the city and will talk with some real -estate men I know. Meanwhile, we will think no more of your enlistment. -You don’t understand what it means.” - -“In the signal corps I’d have a chance to be taught how to handle an -aeroplane, wouldn’t I?” - -“Yes,” conceded the lieutenant, “and I think you would be our star -pupil. But the pay--” - -“That isn’t it,” interrupted Morey. “I wouldn’t have to stay in the -corps. If I’m a success I could buy out and then--” - -The officer laughed. - -“Don’t you think you have enough to bother about before that comes up?” - -“I certainly have,” answered Morey. “But I’m looking ahead. Anyway, I’m -a thousand times grateful to you. I’d like to meet Major Squiers and -show him what I have. Then I’d better go on into the city and meet you -tomorrow, if you’ll be good enough?” - -“You will stay with me tonight. Why not?” - -“I’ve got Amos with me,” answered Morey with a knowing smile. - -“We’ll take care of Amos, if he is my enemy,” laughed the officer. - -Lieutenant Purcell was a bachelor, but his quarters were comfortably -furnished. He and Morey had lingered on the club house veranda for -some time, talking over Colonel Marshall’s mysterious packet while a -corporal went in quest of Amos and Betty. Soon after the officer and -his guest reached the former’s house the corporal returned with the -report that the horse and surrey had been found and cared for, but that -the colored boy could not be found. Morey was alarmed. He proposed an -immediate personal search; but at that moment the telephone rang. - -After talking for some minutes over the telephone the lieutenant, with -much laughing, hung up the receiver. - -“He’s found,” he explained, roaring with amusement. “He’s in the guard -house.” - -Morey sprang up in alarm. - -“Yes,” went on his host, “but they are going to bring him here.” - -“In the guard house?” exclaimed Morey. - -“The secret service men arrested him early this afternoon. He was found -prowling about in the rear of the President’s tent with a rock tied up -in a red handkerchief.” - -“Why, that was for you,” explained Morey nervously, but laughing in -spite of himself. “He’s carried that all the way to Washington to get -even with you for ducking him.” - -“That’s what he finally confessed,” roared Lieutenant Purcell again. -“They’ve just had him before Captain Bryant, the officer of the day. -When he told who he was and who he was with, Captain Bryant fortunately -recalled that you were my guest--I had been telling him about you. So, -concluding that Amos and I could settle our own feud, they are bringing -him here to turn him over to us.” - -Amos’ armed escort arrived at that moment. When Morey and his host -stepped out on the piazza two grinning soldiers and a very much alarmed -colored boy stood before them. One of the guards held in his hand the -incriminating rock, still concealed in its anarchistic covering. The -colored boy burst into tears at sight of Morey and sank on his knees. - -“I ain’t done no hahm, Mr. Soldier. I don’ mean hahm to no one,” -blubbered Amos. “I’s jes’ lookin’ ’bout.” - -Lieutenant Purcell took the weighty weapon and dismissed the soldiers. - -“Amos,” he said, as severely as he could, “what’s the meaning of this -rock? Why are you carrying it with you?” - -“Deed, Mr. Soldier, I’s keepin’ dat kaze I’s ’feared o’ robbers.” - -“Do you want it again?” - -“No, sah, Mr. Soldier, no, sah.” - -“They say over at the jail that you said it was for me; that you wanted -to break my head with it?” - -“Me?” whimpered Amos. “No, sah, Mr. Soldier. Dey’s story-tellers. ’Deed -dey is. Please, Marse Morey,” he wailed, “don’ let ’em bring me to de -jail agin. I ain’t mad at no one, ’bout nothin’. Please, Mr. Soldier!” - -Lieutenant Purcell and Morey could no longer restrain their laughter. -Amos was forgiven, assured that he had already been punished for his -desperate resolve and turned over to Lieutenant Purcell’s domestics for -supper and lodging. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -TWO IRONS IN THE FIRE. - - -When Major Squiers arrived he greeted Morey cordially. - -“Lieutenant Purcell and Mr. Wright, between them, have given me a most -flattering account of you, my son. I wish we had a few such boys in the -corps.” - -“I’m anxious to enlist,” Morey exclaimed at once. - -This was Lieutenant Purcell’s chance. He was not slow to express -his own views in opposition to Morey’s desires. But, perhaps to his -surprise, Major Squiers did not agree with him. - -“The science of air navigation,” the elder officer insisted, “is yet in -its infancy. In the nature of things the army is intensely interested -in the development of both dirigible balloons and aeroplanes. In some -respects I think the study of this problem is as important as the -solution of new naval problems. As a means of offense and defense -the army is compelled to keep abreast if it does not lead in these -experiments. And we mean to do it. But, for the greatest success, we -must have brains. We must have just the intelligence that this young -man possesses. Naturally, those who are to assist us, should be under -military direction and control; they should be soldiers. And they -must begin in the ranks. But I know of no department in the service -where promotion is so sure and certain. Nor do I know of any other -opportunity for a young man to get a technical education at so little -cost to himself. Instead of dissuading the boy, I think he should be -encouraged.” - -“There, you see,” exclaimed Morey turning jubilantly to Lieutenant -Purcell, “isn’t that what I said? Will you enlist me?” he asked eagerly -facing Major Squiers again. - -“You’ll have to obtain your parent’s consent. If you can, I’ll be glad -to do so. And I’ll guarantee to make an aviator out of you in a mighty -short time.” - -Until dinner was over nothing was said about Colonel Marshall’s -secret. Lieutenant Purcell had not yet seen the packet. But, with a -few words of explanation from the younger officer, Morey produced the -precious package from his inside coat pocket. The two military experts -immediately adjourned to the library and began an investigation. Morey -was a little surprised and disappointed that there was no outburst of -astonishment. As they proceeded slowly through the faded pages, talking -to each other in low tones from time to time, he became nervous. After -all, what if his father’s idea meant nothing at all? What if their -land was worth no more than Judge Lomax said? Enlisting in the Signal -Corps would not help him out of his predicament. In fact, it would be a -selfish abandonment of his mother. - -When Major Squiers had at last finished the long manuscript, which -Morey himself had not attempted to read or understand, he lit a cigar -and waited for the younger officer to finish his examination. Again -they spoke together. It was in a low tone and Morey refrained from -listening. Lieutenant Purcell made a calculation and shook his head. -Morey’s heart sank. - -At that, the elder officer motioned to the boy to approach. - -“My son,” he began, “I assume that you are willing to let me take this -matter--I mean these papers.” - -“Certainly,” answered Morey. “I have no idea whether they are of -value, but if you will be good enough to look into them, I shall be -very grateful.” - -“You are quite sure no one has seen them?” - -“Other than my father, no one. I have not even tried to read them -myself.” - -Lieutenant Purcell glanced at his superior officer. - -“He has an idea that may mean a great deal,” said Major Squiers. “In -carrying out his theory of turning liquid hydrogen into free gas again -he has also suggested an apparatus that may solve a difficult problem. -We won’t try to go into it technically, my son, but I want to show -these drawings to the department. Will you trust them to me?” - -Overjoyed, Morey gave ready acquiescence. Then he exclaimed: - -“Do you think I could have his machine patented?” - -Major Squiers laughed and shook his head. - -“My son,” he explained, “that apparatus is one of the missing links in -the theory of carrying liquid hydrogen in balloons. The government of -every progressive nation is now searching for it. If we decide that -your father’s plans are practicable I will undertake to say that the -War Department will buy them outright. But they will never be patented. -It will be an aeronautical secret to be guarded jealously from the rest -of the world. Are you prepared to sell them outright?” - -Morey sprang up radiant. He took the loose sheets from the table, put -them tremblingly in order and placed them in Major Squiers’s hands. - -“You are to do with them whatever you think best. I have no suggestions -to make, and no conditions.” - -When Major Squiers had gone, Morey, enthusiastic as a child, laid his -arm on Lieutenant Purcell’s shoulders. - -“Lieutenant,” said the boy, “why are you so good to me?” - -The young officer grew suddenly sober, was silent a moment, and then -said: - -“Because I can see how hard you are working to make a good man out of a -very foolish boy.” - -That was a new thought for Morey. Hurt by it at first, he cogitated -over it a long time before going to sleep that night. At last, lying in -his bed, he smiled. “Wasn’t I the limit?” he said to himself. “Buying a -four hundred dollar engine on a capital of seventy-five cents!” - -Lieutenant Purcell’s official duties demanded his attention until noon -the next day. But, after luncheon, it was arranged that he and Morey -were to go into the city in an electric car and open up negotiations -as to selling his mother’s land or borrowing money on it. Morey -saw at once that the negotiations under way would be extended over -several days. He had no desire to force himself upon his new friend’s -hospitality and he had found it impossible to tell his host that he had -but $1.88 in funds. After puzzling over the matter some time he decided -to take advantage of his unoccupied morning to dispose of Betty. He -would thus be beyond the necessity of borrowing funds to cover his and -Amos’ expenses for a short time. - -Amos had not wandered far from the lieutenant’s quarters. Fear of the -guard house kept him close to the kitchen. Calling the black boy, Morey -visited the military barn, secured Betty, gave the enlisted hostler a -quarter for his good nature, and drove out of the reservation. - -When Morey turned old Betty’s head to the west, Amos for the first time -showed signs of life. - -“Da’s right, Marse Morey. Le’s go back home. Dis no place fo’ we all.” - -“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, Amos? It’s a lucky thing they didn’t -keep you in jail.” - -The black boy shook his head and then as the reservation was gradually -left behind he began to show boldness. - -“Ef dem soldiers did’n have no guns I reckon I’d show ’em.” - -“Look here, you rascal, you were scared to pieces. Don’t get so brave. -We’re going back again.” - -“We gwine back to dat soldier place?” - -“We certainly are, and if I hear any more bragging out of you I’ll tell -the soldiers.” - -Amos shrank perceptibly. - -“Dat soldier man ’sulted me.” - -“You’d better forget it,” remarked Morey curtly. “I’ve had to forget -several things in the past few days.” - -As soon as he had passed beyond the more pretentious country places -Morey turned into a cross road, and at the first thrifty-looking -farmhouse he pulled up. In fifteen minutes the faithful old Betty -had been sold for $30, surrey thrown in, and Morey and Amos were on -their way back to the fort, toiling and sweating beneath their bag and -bundles. - -“How come yo’ did’n leab dese in the barn?” panted Amos. - -“Because,” explained Morey, “since Lieutenant Purcell has insulted you -I thought you wouldn’t want to sleep and eat in his house. We are going -in to Washington.” - -“He did’n ’sult me ’bout eatin’. I had roas’ beef las’ night,” Amos -retorted, smacking his lips. “I ain’t fussin’ ’bout stayin’ dar.” - -Morey was in no mood for further discussion. When he reached the -trolley line he boarded a car and a few minutes later had crossed the -river and was in Georgetown. Keeping a vigilant lookout he finally -discovered, as the car crossed Jefferson street, in the vicinity of a -river basin and a maze of railroad tracks, a cheap hotel. As soon as he -could stop the car he made his way back. He could get two rooms at the -rate of fifty cents each a day, without meals. A bargain was struck and -the boys took possession of adjoining apartments. It was a hotel for -railroad and dock laborers. Neither rooms nor surroundings were very -savory, but they were reasonably clean. - -Amos was in somewhat of a panic when he learned that he was to be left -here until night. - -“Whar’ I gwine to eat?” was his first question. - -“Amos,” said Morey with a laugh, “you don’t appreciate your good luck. -See that bed? It has sheets on it. You haven’t had sheets in years.” - -“No, sah. I don’ want ’em. Dey ain’ gwine keep me wahm.” - -“And this apartment is yours. I don’t know how long we’ll be here. But -make yourself at home.” He took out of his pocket four silver quarters. -“I’ve paid for your room. Down near the dock you’ll find places to -eat--fried fish and pork and bread and coffee.” - -“How much dat gwine cos’ me?” exclaimed Amos, a grin on his usually -somber face. - -Morey took up a quarter. - -“Never,” he said with a frown, “never, so long as I am paying your -bills, spend more than two bits for a meal.” - -“No, sah,” responded the black boy. “Ah knows dat--two bits.” - -“And now,” said Morey, “you can eat and sleep until I come back. And -don’t get lost. Be here by six o’clock or I’ll send the police after -you.” - -Morey still had time for his toilet. Unpacking his bag he got out fresh -linen and while Amos brushed his clothes and shoes he took as much of -a bath as he could get. This done, he locked their rooms, took Amos to -a drug store, treated the happy black boy to an ice cream soda, started -him back toward the “Basin House,” their hotel, and then boarded a car -for Fort Meyer. - -There was a vigorous protest when he explained that he had removed Amos -and their baggage to a hotel. - -“But how about the horse?” asked Lieutenant Purcell. - -The facts had to come out. Once started, Morey concealed nothing. - -The officer laughed. - -“Morey,” he exclaimed, “you’ll certainly win out. I don’t blame you. -You were more than welcome here, but I suppose I would feel the same -way that you do. However, if you run out of funds before something -turns up, remember this--I accepted your hospitality as to the trout -stream.” - -Morey laughed in turn. - -“That was in my foolish days. We didn’t own any more of that trout -creek than you did.” - -Within an hour after luncheon the officer and Morey were in the city -and in a well-known real estate and loan office. A clerk passed them -on to Lieutenant Purcell’s friend, who gave Morey’s long story his -personal attention. The manager began shaking his head at once. But, -when Morey mentioned Major Carey and the Barber Bank, he took a new -attitude. Turning to his desk he looked in an index and then, excusing -himself, went into the outer office and after some minutes returned -with several documents. - -“Do you know the Hargrave farm of one hundred and twenty acres,” he -asked, calling Morey over to his desk. - -“I don’t know how many acres he had,” answered Morey, “but Mr. Hargrave -used to live next to our corn land. Don’t any one live there now?” - -The manager turned to Lieutenant Purcell. - -“The old Richmond Trust Company made a good many peculiar loans out -there in Rappahannock County. It loaned this man Appleton, who had a -tobacco piece, five thousand dollars on one hundred and twenty acres. -It sold the mortgage to a client of ours and he had to foreclose. I -thought I recalled the transaction when your friend mentioned the -Barber Bank and this man Carey. Carey bought the land less than a year -ago and paid forty dollars an acre for it.” - -These business details confused Morey. - -“Looks as if Major Carey was out for something soft,” commented -Lieutenant Purcell. - -“Our land’s worth as much as the Appleton place,” exclaimed Morey, who -had grasped that much of the situation. - -“Leave me your address,” suggested the manager. “I’ll send a man -out there on a quiet investigation. These country banks are great -boosters--for themselves. You’ll hear from me in a few days. It isn’t -improbable that I can be of help to you.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE SIGNAL CORPS CAMP IN THE MOUNTAINS. - - -Before leaving the center of the city Lieutenant Purcell directed -Morey to several cheap but sufficiently good restaurants. Then the two -friends spent several hours in sight-seeing, and when they separated, -Morey went directly to his room to write to his mother at last. The -letter, although a long one, told only a part of Morey’s story. As -yet he made no mention of the money they owed Major Carey. It was -an affectionate but positive letter leaving no doubt as to Morey’s -intentions. This letter led up to a second and more important one. - -The following day, having journeyed out to Fort Meyer and secured the -proper form, Morey wrote again to his mother. In this letter he asked -her consent to his joining the Signal Corps. This communication was -most adroitly worded. There was in it no reference to the army, and the -average person who read it would imagine that the “U. S. Signal Corps” -was a sort of technical school, entrance into which was secured only by -a favored few. - -Morey waited four days for his mother’s reply. During that time he -heard nothing from Major Squiers or from the real estate firm, and his -expenses were already nearly twelve dollars. Then he called at the -real estate office. The manager remembered him, was profuse in his -apologies, but had been too busy to give the matter consideration. He -would attempt to do so at once. Morey retired somewhat crestfallen. -He had imagined that his business was to receive immediate attention. -Not wishing to bother Lieutenant Purcell he went alone to the War -Department and asked to see Major Squiers. After much delay he was -admitted. - -Major Squiers greeted him cordially but with every sign of having no -time to lose. - -“I just wanted to ask you about the papers?” Morey explained at once. - -“Oh, yes,” responded the military executive. “They have been submitted -to the proper officials. When reports are made on them I will take the -matter up with the Secretary of War. You mustn’t be impatient, my son. -We are all the victims of red tape here in Washington.” - -“Have you any idea when I shall know?” - -“Not the slightest--weeks perhaps; maybe months. You had better go -home in the meantime.” - -“I should say not,” responded Morey decisively. “Don’t you remember -what you told me I could do? I can’t afford to loaf, either here or at -home. I want to enlist.” - -“I remember,” laughed Major Squiers. “Have you your mother’s formal -consent?” - -“I expect to have it in a day or so.” - -Major Squiers thought a moment. Then he turned to his desk and wrote a -note. - -“Why not?” he asked as he turned around and handed the envelope to -Morey. “Here is a note to Lieutenant Purcell with a suggestion. If -you are in the service I can the more easily keep track of you. The -lieutenant is leaving in a few days for the experiment station. I have -suggested that if your mother’s consent arrives in time and you are -formally enrolled before he leaves, he should take you with him.” - -“Where is the experiment station,” asked Morey, boyishly. - -The officer smiled. - -“That is a military secret, my son.” - -Then Morey smiled. - -After expressing his gratitude Morey withdrew. It pleased him to -think that he knew where the experiment station was. The presence -of Lieutenant Purcell at Linden, only twenty miles from his home was -explained. If things worked out all right, Morey figured he would be on -his way there in a few days. There, with the possible chance of seeing -his mother occasionally, he would study the operation of aeroplanes and -would wait for some word as to his business affairs. - -The next morning his mother’s letter came. It was a pathetic -composition, protesting, appealing and reproaching. And, although she -ordered Morey to return home at once she also gave her consent that he -might join the Signal Corps. The letter contained also a message from -Amos’ father. The substance of this was that a “hiding” awaited the -colored boy. - -Within an hour Morey had consulted with Lieutenant Purcell. Then -he made another call at the real estate office. The manager, -Morey thought, showed uncalled for impatience. It had not yet -been convenient, it seemed, to look into the Marshall matter. The -disappointed lad was glad to make his escape. But he left his new -address: “Care Lieut. Fred Purcell, U. S. Signal Corps.” - -By noon he and Amos had packed up their belongings, eaten luncheon at -one of Amos’ favorite places down near the “Basin,” and the adventurers -were off for Fort Meyer. Morey was about to become a soldier. Amos -following blindly in Morey’s footsteps, supposed with his own peculiar -logic that the white boy’s enlistment included him. In the delusion -that he, too, was about to become a soldier and don a cap and blue -clothes he was happy. - -Lieutenant Purcell had orders to return to Linden, or Green Springs, -the real location of the encampment, at noon of the following day. -And at his suggestion Morey was not formally enlisted until the next -morning. All embarrassment as to Amos was soon relieved. Morey had -money enough to send the black boy home by train. The officer, however, -offered to attach Amos to himself as a personal servant. - -“But he thinks he is to be a soldier,” said Morey. - -“That’s all right,” suggested the lieutenant, “I’ll scare up an old -uniform and we’ll rig him out in it. It will satisfy him and do no one -any harm.” - -This was done that evening. When the reservation ambulance started for -Washington and the train at noon the next day, among the other corps -privates to be transferred to Green Springs under Sergeant Burns, was -Morey, in a stiff new uniform, and with a soldier’s kit. Lieutenant -Purcell preceded the detachment in a ’bus and Amos went with him--in -reality as the lieutenant’s personal servant, but so far as the black -boy knew, as much of a soldier as any in the squad. Three hours later, -to Amos’ consternation, the party alighted in the village of Linden. -The camp wagon was waiting and long before night Lieutenant Purcell and -his men were at Green Springs. - -Morey was assigned to a tent with three other privates, and -Amos--protesting but finally obeying Morey’s orders--was located in -Lieutenant Purcell’s cook tent with another darkey. Amos had expected -to shoulder a gun, and had visions of at once stealing away to exhibit -himself in Lee’s Court House. But he found the duty of waiting on -Lieutenant Purcell’s table more pressing. - -Even a quick examination satisfied Morey that he had made no mistake. -The camp and its surroundings seemed a fairy land to him. High up on -the slope of the Blue Mountains, well concealed behind a barrier of -mountain ash trees, lay a plateau. This plateau led into a broad rift -in the mountain. Deep in this valley, next the spring that gave the -place its name, was the camp. A score of tents surrounding a square, -housed the soldiers and officers selected by the War Department to be -trained in the use of the aeroplane. Just below the camp and fronting -a slope leading to the plateau outside were two large tents. In one -of these were two aeroplanes--Wright machines--and in the other was -a shop and quarters for two civilian representatives of the airship -manufacturers. - -Fascinated by the surroundings and the daily routine of the work Morey -threw himself enthusiastically into the experiments. He was young, -full of ideas and more than willing. He was assigned to the shop -division and in three weeks he was as well informed on the theory and -construction of an aeroplane as the experts themselves. So intent was -he upon his duties that he seemed to have no thought for any thing -else. But no day went by in which he did not inquire of his superior -officer whether any message had come for him from Major Squiers or the -real estate firm. But his frequent and keen disappointment in this hope -always passed away in the fervor with which he executed his tasks. The -men were not allowed to send messages from the camp. Nor were they -permitted to visit Linden unless accompanied by an officer. - -Lieutenant Purcell had tried several men in short flights, always -making longer ones himself, generally about sundown. Morey now had his -first experience in the machine. Corporal Appleton was the favored -pupil. One evening early in July, Lieutenant Purcell and Corporal -Appleton were preparing for a trial flight. The car was on the track, -the lieutenant was in place at the levers and the corporal was just -mounting alongside his superior when the latter looked up, sprang from -the car and ordered Appleton away and into custody. The soldier was -partly intoxicated. - -Without a spoken word Lieutenant Purcell turned toward Morey and nodded -his head. In another moment the young Virginian was by the officer’s -side, the aeroplane had been released and the craft was swirling -forward and upward. Almost before Morey could catch his breath the -world seemed dropping from beneath him. There was a long, slanting -curve and Morey’s heart almost stopped beating. He closed his eyes and -gripped the fragile frame. A cold sweat covered his body. Again the car -swayed. The boy, almost dizzy with fear, gasped and bit his lips. The -whirr of the propellers filled the air. Then, suddenly, came the sense -of smoothness, the absence of vibration, the feeling that without jar -or quiver the delicate vehicle was floating. - -At last Morey opened his eyes. He closed them quickly. So far beneath -them that the sense of height was almost sickening, the plain and -forest were rushing by with the speed of an express. But he began to -reason. He had at last achieved a step in his ambition. With all the -grit he had he pulled himself together. Again he opened his eyes--this -time to keep them open. His companion was not afraid. Why should he be? - -“How is she doing?” he exclaimed suddenly, surprised at his own -calmness. - -“Beautifully. Watch me!” - -And the boy did. Far out over the forest in the gathering twilight -the aeroplane flew like a disc. Then the aviator turned to the south. -At this long swoop the sickening depression came again into Morey’s -breast, but only for a moment. - -“It’s this or nothing, for me,” he said to himself and with a last -effort he put aside his fear. - -“Look ahead,” exclaimed Lieutenant Purcell suddenly. “See something -white?” - -“Looks like a building.” - -“Top of the courthouse in your village.” - -Five miles toward the village the aeroplane flew and then Lieutenant -Purcell turned once more. Just at dusk the airship sank gently to the -earth in front of the camp. Amos grabbed Morey as a mother might clasp -a lost child. He was blubbering and breathless. The black boy had -chased the aeroplane and was almost exhausted. - -“Marse Morey,” he panted, “ef yo’ all ebber go in that hurricane agin -I’s gwine right home and tell yo’ ma.” - -Morey had another opportunity the next day. Appleton was in disgrace. -Morey was given his place and in the evening, after another short -flight with Lieutenant Purcell, he was allowed to make a trial flight -alone near the ground. In the week that followed Morey made daily -flights--at last over the adjacent forest. His skill and confidence -grew with every ascent. Lieutenant Purcell was not disappointed in his -pupil. He had already assured the boy of a promotion to a sergeancy. -Morey’s proud satisfaction had only one cloud on it--still no word -came from Washington concerning his business negotiations. - -On the morning of July 13, Morey was summoned to headquarters. -Lieutenant Purcell greeted him with a sober face. - -“Morey,” he said at once, “I have a disagreeable duty to perform. -You will remember that it was not on my advice that you joined the -Corps. Yet, I have done all I could to teach you what we know. In my -judgment you have been too apt a pupil. Major Squiers has just made a -requisition on me for my best operator. You are not only my best, but -you are practically the only one I can trust.” - -“I’m glad to hear that,” said the boy. “But what makes your duty -disagreeable?” - -“Because I must conscientiously recommend you to Major Squiers.” - -Morey’s eyes opened in surprise. - -“Isn’t that a compliment?” - -“It is a dangerous job. They are going to begin experimenting with -explosives and their effects when dropped from aeroplanes.” - -“Good!” exclaimed Morey. “Do you mean that I’m to have a chance at -this?” - -“I must submit your name. But it is exceedingly hazardous work. You can -take or refuse the offer. Appleton is ready to go if you don’t.” - -“When do I start?” was the boy’s only answer. - -“Whoever I send must be in Arlington, New Jersey, tomorrow. You’ll have -to start on the slow train this evening and leave Washington on the six -o’clock express in the morning.” - -As Morey grasped his lieutenant’s hand in both of his he said: - -“Lieutenant, you’re a brick. You’ve certainly done your share in trying -to turn a foolish boy into a good man.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE AEROPLANE AS A WAR MACHINE. - - -The government had selected an old colonial home, sequestered in a bit -of forest a few miles south of Arlington, as a base for its practical -aeroplane experiments. It had selected this place for two important -reasons. The house, now almost in ruins, was on a ridge just beyond -the tidal flats or salt marshes west of New York, and it fronted on -what had been a plaza. This made an admirable starting ground and from -it there was an uninterrupted but distant view of the sea. From this -leafy retreat, well off the main road and only approached over a now -weed-grown lane, closely guarded, the airships could emerge in the -early dawn or at twilight, sail over the untenanted marshes and return, -practically without being observed. - -The house, which had an old-fashioned, glassless octagonal observatory -on top, was further screened from discovery by a new fence. On the -building itself there had been but few repairs made. Major Squiers and -Lieutenant Purcell, when they were there, occupied adjoining rooms -on the first floor. No attempt had been made to furnish these. The -officers practically “camped out” in the big, bare rooms. On the second -floor were a dozen or more soldiers, including three sergeants and a -corporal. The two men who assisted Mr. Wright at Fort Meyer were also -here. In the yard in the rear was a cook tent. The men ate in another -tent beneath the trees. - -Beyond the tents, and approached by a path running through denser trees -and a wilderness of weedy vegetation, was the plaza, or outlook, on -which the long since dead owner had been accustomed to sniff the ocean -breezes and from which, far across the marshy meadows the ocean might -be seen. - -Into this interesting place Morey was conducted by Corporal Steele -early in the day. Major Squiers was there and in charge. Lieutenant -Purcell was expected in three or four days. The boy was turned over at -once to Sergeant McLean, who took him to the commander’s apartment. - -“Since you are now all here,” said Major Squiers, turning to the -sergeant, after a few moment’s talk with Morey, “you may as well draw -lots for the order in which you are to be called. We may make a flight -at any time. Some officials from Washington will arrive tomorrow or the -day after. When they do, we must be ready to begin work at once.” - -These flights were for the purpose of navigating, if possible, an -aeroplane from the Arlington ridge, across the marshes, over Staten -Island and then dropping explosives on a target in the Lower Bay, south -of Staten Island. This target was a condemned man-of-war, which for -several weeks had been mysteriously anchored off the shore. In order -not to attract undue attention the vessel was manned. But officers and -men were prepared to abandon the hulk at any time on signal. - -The aeroplane shed was a canvas house on the garden plaza. By its -side was a shop. The aeroplane tested at Fort Meyer was installed -here with a second one on the ground in crates. This one had just -arrived. The plans of the War Department were twofold. Not only were -various explosives to be tested by being dropped from a swiftly flying -car, but some of the actual conditions of war were to be present. It -was especially desired to make the experiment cover some ground. The -distance from the Arlington ridge to the Lower Bay was nearly twenty -miles. It was believed that if this distance could be covered by a -machine without descending and a safe return accomplished, that some of -the exigencies of actual warfare would have been met. - -Morey was sent to the upper floor to install himself. While he was -picking out a cot he was recalled to the commander’s apartment. A -drawing of lots was to take place to decide the order in which the four -available operators would be called on to serve. - -“First,” explained Major Squiers, “although you are all soldiers, not -one of whom would shirk his duty, the department wants to make this -fact plain. This work is so new and so hazardous that it is to be the -policy of the Secretary of War to call for volunteers in aeroplaning. -In actual warfare it is not impossible that weapons of defense will -be at once devised that will make the work of an aeroplane almost a -deliberate sacrifice of life. If any one of you wishes to wait until -the science we are developing is more advanced and aviation of this -sort is attended with less danger, do not be ashamed to say so. It will -not be charged against you.” - -Four men smiled. - -“As I anticipated,” said Major Squiers, smiling in turn. “All of you -are eager Hobsons.” - -As a result of the drawing the order was: - -1st. Corporal D. M. Steele, 26 years old, Omaha, Nebraska (the -dirigible experimental station). - -2nd. Private Mortimer Marshall, 18 years old, Green Springs’ testing -grounds. - -3rd. Sergeant S. A. McLean, 37 years old, Fort Meyer. - -4th. P. S. Bloom, 29 years old, Fort Meyer. - -As the men filed out of the room Major Squiers detained Morey a moment. - -“I’m rather glad, my son, you were not first.” - -“But, I’m second,” proudly replied the boy. “I’ll show you that -Lieutenant Purcell is a good teacher.” - -“By the way,” added his superior, “don’t believe that your father’s -project has been buried. It has reached the engineering department. -Unofficially I hear that it has made a sensation. That is, it has -started a hot dispute. That looks good, doesn’t it?” - -“It doesn’t look as good to me as this,” said Morey, holding up his -little square of cardboard numbered ‘2.’ “I hope it is of use and is -worth something, but I wouldn’t trade my chance here for all the money -it may bring.” - -“How is that?” inquired Major Squiers, puzzled. - -“Because I want to do something myself.” - -“When your chance comes I’m sure you will,” said the elder man very -kindly, and he patted the boy on the head. - -Before the first flight was made Lieutenant Purcell arrived--three -days later--and the next day a sudden message came that the official -board was on the proving ground on the south shore of Staten Island. -There was hurry and anxiety but no commotion in the distant New Jersey -station. At six in the afternoon Corporal Steele, bareheaded and in -his shirt sleeves, made a short experimental flight. Major Squiers had -left the camp at four o’clock to board a waiting tug at Jersey City. -At twenty minutes past six, after a safe return to the plaza, where -he took on two cordite bombs weighing thirty pounds each, the eager -aviator was off like a bird over the Jersey flats. At half past six he -had disappeared in the smoke wafting southward from Jersey City. - -Just after seven o’clock Lieutenant Purcell received this message by -telephone: - -“Steele’s flight was admirable but he failed in his drop. Both bombs -delivered at once and too soon. They struck the water and disappeared -without exploding. If he returns successfully and there is time before -dark, make a second trial. Attempt nothing after dark. Take no chances -with shipping in the bay.” - -Corporal Steele was on the starting plateau at a quarter past seven. -The operator was chagrined, but not discouraged. His control of the -machine had been perfect. He at once insisted that there should be -an automatic device for releasing the explosive independently of the -operator’s hands. But, in the midst of his explanation, Lieutenant -Purcell turned to Morey. There was at least three quarters of an hour -of twilight remaining. The aeroplane was turned, two new bombs were -hastily brought and Morey got into the seat. - -His great chance had come at last. Calmly and distinctly he gave -the word and the car was hurled into the still evening air. Taking -advantage of his start Morey held his forward or horizontal rudder -skyward and allowed the obedient aeroplane to mount upward as it flew -through the almost breezeless air. Up and up he soared until the grey -marsh beneath was only a haze. A thousand feet above the tidewater -swamp the young aviator brought himself to a horizontal course. Before -and beyond him he could make out the horizon-bounded sea. In a few -moments the outlines of Staten Island became clear in the dusk and then -the unmistakable grey target rose out of the water beyond. - -The two bombs had been suspended in little net hammocks on each side of -the aviator. On each was a wire handle. Morey reached into his pocket -and took out his new knife. Opening the largest blade he placed the -knife between his teeth. Then carefully, while some distance from the -target vessel, he drew the other bomb from its hammock and placed it in -his lap. He was ready. - -A thousand yards from the anchored marsh he settled himself and judged -his distance. He was counting on some breeze at sea. He could feel it -gently wafting landward from the northeast. His experience at Green -Springs had taught him every movement of the machine. As he drew nearer -to the vessel he bore off into the breeze as if to pass to one side -of the target. He seemed about to sail by it on the north when with a -quick shift of his vertical rudders he turned. The aeroplane trembled, -seemed to catch itself for a moment and then, with a long, graceful -curve it headed for the vessel and darted downward like a bird. - -There was another rapid movement of the horizontal rudders and the -darting fall was checked. The airship wavered as if to gather itself -for a new flight. The swiftly beating propellers sent the air against -the planes and the machine began to rise once more. There was an -instant’s pause. The boy’s hand shot forward to cut away the hanging -bomb with the keen blade. At the same instant Morey’s knees opened and -the deadly package in his lap slid between his legs. Almost at the same -moment the two bombs crashed upon the steel deck and the aeroplane had -darted on. - -There was a roar, a flash of fire far beneath, and Morey knew that he -had made the first successful experiment with the aeroplane as a war -machine; he had won “in the clouds for Uncle Sam.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -SERGEANT MARSHALL OUTWITS MAJOR CAREY. - - -The maneuvers continued with daily flights. In a short time Morey was, -by common consent, conceded to be the foremost in the work. He held -the record for the most exact work in the handling of explosives and -had flown the highest. Sergeant McLean made the longest continuous -flight--the length of Long Island and return. - -The promised promotion to a sergeancy came at the end of the first week -of experimenting. In his new stripes the boy had visible proof that -the “foolish boy” had really made progress in his effort to accomplish -something. Then, one morning came a shock. He received a letter from -his mother. - -No sooner had Lieutenant Purcell left the Green Spring’s camp than Amos -disappeared. As he was not a soldier, little attention was given his -departure. Reaching Aspley Place after a footsore tramp, the black boy -was received with open arms. Even his father, old Marsh Green, agreed -to refrain from administering the “hiding” he had promised. As Amos -related to Morey’s mother the wonders he had seen and the exploits of -the yet missing white boy his imagination ran riot. Old Don Quixote -never shone with the glamor of romance that the black boy created for -Morey. Mrs. Marshall was in despair. And other things had now arisen -that made her son’s absence doubly trying. - -Amos had no idea where Morey had gone. But Mrs. Marshall’s letter of -appeal to her son was forwarded to Green Springs in care of Lieutenant -Purcell and from that place it was forwarded to the station at -Arlington. When Morey read it he was in despair. - - “My dear Morey,” it ran. “How can I say what your absence - has been to me! Amos has told us all. I am heartbroken that - you did not return with him. I thought you were in school at - Washington. He tells me you are a soldier. Twice I have written - to you in Washington and each time my letter has come back. You - must come to me at once. Mr. Bradner has told me all. I cannot - understand it, but he says we must give up our home; that Major - Carey and Captain Barber are arranging to get for us a new - home in the village. This cannot be necessary, but he says I - must. It is something about money that your father owed. Now - they say we can no longer live on Aspley Place. Major Carey has - been to see me. He says it is true; that some one in Richmond - insists on having money that I cannot pay. He has selected a - little cottage where we must live--but I cannot write of it. - Won’t you come home and help me?” - -The glory of his success in the corps seemed very small to Morey then. -When he thought over what had happened in the last few weeks he could -only reproach himself with the thought that he had deserted his mother. -He at once sought out Major Squiers. To him he told his story. - -“May I go home for a few days?” he pleaded. “I know now that I did -wrong to enlist. But I’ve got to go home and see what I can do.” - -“I’ll give you leave of absence for a week,” answered his superior -sympathetically. “If, at the end of that time you want more leave let -me know and I’ll grant it. But you did not do wrong. You are going to -be a credit to yourself and to your mother.” - -“I’m going to Washington,” said Morey tremulously. “If nothing can -be done there I’ll go home. With what I know I’ll confront the men -who are trying to rob us. I’m sure I’m enough older now to accomplish -something.” - -“You must,” replied Major Squiers, “for I have counted on you in my -summer plans. You have become valuable to us. Arrange to rejoin the -corps by the first of August--you cannot afford to miss what I have -arranged for you.” - -At three o’clock that afternoon the disconsolate boy was in Washington -on his way home on a leave of absence. Hastening to the office of the -real estate firm he met the manager just leaving for the day. - -“I meant to write to you in the morning,” began the busy dealer with -unusual condescension. “I have a proposition to make to you and your -mother. Jump in my car! I’m going out for a little ride. We’ll talk it -over in the automobile.” - -Morey’s heart leaped. - -“I’ll be perfectly frank with you,” said the manager, “and what I have -to say is based on the assumption that you represent your mother.” - -“I think you can do that, sir,” replied Morey. “She has not authorized -me to act for her, but our necessities are such that I must compel her -to listen to reason.” - -“Well,” began the agent, “we have had a man in your part of the country -and he has just returned. It was not difficult to find that the Barber -Bank is preparing to secure your land. We are like the Barber Bank, in -a way. We are here to make money where and when we can. The land is -ample security for the loan you ask.” - -“And you’ll let me have it?” exclaimed Morey. - -The manager shook his head. - -The lad’s heart sank. - -“What we will do is this: Major Carey wants your land, that is plain. -I think, too, he’ll pay forty dollars an acre for it when he sees he -has to. My proposition is this: we’ll take up your notes--your father’s -and your mother’s--and, if your mother will make such a contract, -carry them until we can sell the property. As our profit we will take -one-half the selling price over the amount we invest. That will be -something over $14,000. If we sell the farm of six hundred acres at -forty dollars there will be a balance of $10,000 over what we put in -the deal. That will mean $5,000 for your mother and $5,000 for us.” - -Morey finally understood, then he too shook his head. - -“I can’t,” he said. “I reckon your offer is fair enough but I can’t let -the home farm go. That’s what I’m working for. There are one hundred -and sixty acres around our home that I want to keep--that I must save. -You know the place. There are four hundred and forty acres besides -this. If you’ll pay those notes I’ll undertake to see that my mother -gives you a deed to all this.” - -“I don’t see that it makes much difference,” said the manager. - -“It makes all the difference in the world to me. It won’t give us any -money but it will give us a home. And I’ll make a living somehow.” - -“I’ll do it. Your friends in the Barber Bank are sharks. I like to take -a fall out of those country wise ones occasionally.” - -“Mr. Tuttle,” said Morey, after a few moments, “that’s business and no -favor on either side. I’m going to ask a personal favor. I’m too young -to ask it legally but on what you know of me will you lend me $100.” - -The manager smiled. - -“Our investment company would not think of such a thing. But we are -not in the office just now. Your note wouldn’t be good, but your face -is.” He reached in his pocket, took out a wallet, counted out five -twenty-dollar bills and then laid on them his personal card, J. D. -Tuttle. “When you can do so, send it to me. Haven’t you any funds?” - -“Enough to get home,” responded Morey, “but I’m going to pay a fine -with part of that and keep out of jail.” - -“A fine? For what?” - -“I bumped old Judge Lomax, in our town, on the floor because he said -our place wasn’t worth twenty dollars an acre.” - -“Whew!” laughed the manager. “I’m glad I valued it higher.” - -Arrangements were soon concluded. When Morey left for Lee’s Court House -in the morning an agent of the investment company was with him. They -reached the little Rappahannock County town at about eleven o’clock. -One of Marshal Robertson’s self-imposed duties was to conscientiously -attend the arrival of each train. The marshal was dutifully on the -platform. - -“Do you want me?” asked Morey, hurrying up to the guardian of the -peace. - -The boy’s natty uniform, his new cap and his sergeant’s stripes seemed -to overpower the town official. - -“Fur poundin’ up Jedge Lomax?” he stammered at last. - -“You can call it that,” laughed Morey, “although I didn’t.” - -“Fur land’s sakes, Morey, where ha’ ye abeen? That’s all settled long -ago. I reckon your mother must a’ got Major Carey to see Jedge Lomax. -Anyhow the warrant is withdrew.” - -That was what had happened. As soon as Mrs. Marshall had heard of the -difficulty she had hurried to her friends, Captain Barber and Major -Carey. Through them the disgruntled Lomax--who never had been near to -dying--had been unable to resist feminine appeals, particularly when -Major Carey added his request to that of Morey’s mother. - -“Well,” said Morey with decision, “I think that is a good thing--for -Judge Lomax. I was just about to swear out a warrant for his arrest. -I’ll wait now until I hear more from him.” - -The investment company’s representative was a young lawyer. Morey’s -mother had no telephone in her house. So within a few minutes the town -livery man had two horses hitched to an ancient hack and by noon Morey -and the agent were at Aspley Place. - -For half an hour Morey was alone with his mother in her bedroom. In the -end she was reconciled. Morey did not attempt to make her realize all -that he had come to know. - -“I’ll never believe it of Major Carey,” she kept repeating. - -“That’s all right, mater,” Morey answered at last. “Think as you like. -But I’m a man now. All you have to do is to sign the contract. I’ll see -that you keep Aspley Place. And, if I have good luck, I’ll see that we -make our own butter again.” - -“I’m afraid it isn’t what your father would have liked.” - -“Father lived when things were different. Everything has changed. I’m -changed.” - -By mid-afternoon Morey and the agent were in Major Carey’s office. The -news of Morey’s return had spread quickly. The dignified planter-banker -was not at his ease. He began the interview by mildly censuring the boy -for his sudden leave-taking. Then he seemed to desire to mend matters a -little by explaining how he had adjusted the trouble with Judge Lomax. -Morey heard him impatiently and then came to the point. - -“I suppose you remember what I said to you the last time I saw you?” -began Morey. - -“You were not wholly in command of yourself,” replied Major Carey, -condescendingly. - -“I told you when I entered your office again that I’d be here to settle -with you. I’m ready.” - -“To settle with me?” - -“With you, Captain Barber, Mr. Bradner, the bank, or any one else that -has a claim against my mother.” - -“Morey, what does this mean?” - -“It means that you folks think you own this town and all the people -in it. You do, too, pretty much--except us. Produce your statement of -every cent we owe you. I want the notes and have the money to square -up.” - -“Mr. Betts,” said Major Carey, nervously, “does this boy know what he -is talking about?” - -“Looks like it?” laughed the young lawyer, taking a blue envelope from -his pocket in which the Virginian could not fail to note an ample -supply of currency. “We were afraid the Barber Bank might not like the -looks of our check.” - -Major Carey, red in the face and thick of speech, sprang to his feet. - -“This is a bluff,” he exclaimed. “What are you trying to do?” - -“Not trying,” said Morey in turn, and himself white about the mouth. -“I’m just taking up my mother’s obligations. Then her farm will be -clear and free from debt.” - -The planter sank back in his chair. - -“You should have talked to me about this, Morey. I’d have bought that -land from you.” - -“You can get it yet,” smiled Morey. “It’ll be on the market in a few -days. The price is fifty dollars an acre, cash.” - -Major Carey was upset. He retired to the bank below and returned in -a few moments with Mr. Bradner, his son-in-law. But the latter was -equally disturbed. There was nothing to do but produce the notes and -prepare a statement. The moment this was ready Morey interrupted the -proceedings again. - -“Are you ready to make your settlement for the rent of the corn land, -Major Carey?” - -This was a bombshell. There were futile and foolish arguments about -“favor to Mrs. Marshall to prevent the place going to weeds,” “high -taxes,” “fence repairs,” and “poor crops.” - -“Take ’em all out,” retorted Morey, sharply. “I only want what is ours.” - -Major Carey had to beg for time until morning to consult his receipts -and farm books. Another meeting was arranged for the next day at ten -o’clock. - -At that time, taking his own unquestioned figures and allowing him half -the crops for two years--deducting forty acres of waste land and an -array of expenses that made Mr. Betts smile, Major Carey was compelled -to concede that there was a surplus of $4,160 to be divided. - -Morey’s pencil was out. - -“We owe you,” he said sharply, “$14,092.50. You owe us $2,080. The -difference is $12,012.50. Here’s your money.” - -The disconcerted planter sat for a spell as if in a trance. - -“How about this year’s corn crop?” he murmured at last. - -“I am now interested in this property Major Carey,” explained the -agent. “Since you have put in a crop without even the formality of -renting the ground you will certainly lose it.” - -By night the transaction was closed and Mr. Betts left on the evening -train. He had turned over $2,080, the corn land rental to Mrs. -Marshall and Morey had taken from it a hundred dollars to be paid to -Mr. Tuttle in Washington. - -The next day Morey entered the Barber Bank and deposited his mother’s -rental money to her account. Captain Barber treated him with a cold -dignity. Almost out of the door the boy turned: - -“By the way, Captain Barber. Our land is on the market. If you know any -one who wants it they can have it at a bargain, $50 an acre.” - -With his mother’s home and one hundred and sixty acres clear of debt, -$2,000 in the bank and the possibility of perhaps $3,000 more from -the sale of the rest of the farm, Morey at once prepared to return to -the Signal Corps. It was almost against his mother’s command, but she -finally reluctantly consented. The day before his leave expired he -drove their new horse and buggy to Lee’s Court House to secure a man to -help Marsh Green in needed work on the place. Amos was with him. - -“Marse Morey,” exclaimed the black boy, “dey done say dat yo’ all got -plenty money now.” - -Morey, his mind on something else, answered: - -“I’ve got my pay as a soldier.” - -Amos sighed. - -“Ain’ dat nuff to pay me mah money what yo’ all loan’ from me?” - -Morey laughed and then he grew sober. He had wholly forgotten the one -person who had helped him when he most needed assistance. - -“What is a banjo worth, Amos?” he asked. - -“Ah kin git one fo’ foah dollahs an’ two bits.” - -“Here,” exclaimed the white boy, taking a treasured twenty dollar bill -from his pocket. “This is for what I borrowed and a banjo and all the -cinnamon drops you can eat.” - -As Morey entered the bank a little later on some business for his -mother, he was overtaken by the station agent and telegraph operator, -who was in a state of high excitement and out of breath. The man had a -carefully sealed telegram in his hand, but from his face it could be -seen that he knew every word of its contents. Major Carey had just come -downstairs from his office. He had been making desperate efforts when -he met Morey, to reinstate himself in the lad’s good graces. - -“Official orders, I reckon?” exclaimed the banker. - -Morey read the following: - - “Sergeant Mortimer Marshall: - - “Department reports favorably. Offers $25,000 outright for - secret. Acceptance must be by widow. Congratulations. Report at - Fort Meyer August sixth. Detailed on squad leaving for France - August eighth to witness French war office aeroplane trials. - - “SQUIERS, - - “Major U. S. Signal Corps.” - -Morey, excited inwardly, but apparently calm, handed the message to -Major Carey. - -“Are you going to get all that money from the government?” the latter -asked. - -“My mother is,” smiled Morey proudly. “It isn’t mine and I don’t want -it. I’m satisfied to be just Sergeant Morey Marshall of the Signal -Corps.” - - -[THE END.] - - - - -The book you have just read is the first of The Aeroplane Boys Series. -The second volume is “The Stolen Aeroplane, or, How Bud Wilson Made -Good.” New titles will be added to this series from time to time and -can be bought wherever books are sold. - - * * * * * - -THE AIRSHIP BOYS SERIES, by H. L. Sayler. Thousands of young Americans -are now reading these splendid books. See, advertisement on page two. - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes: - - --Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - - --Printer's, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently - corrected. - - --Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved. - - --Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. - - --The Chapter XVI title in the Table of Contents (The Signal Corps in - the Mountains) was changed to reflect the title within the contents - (The Signal Corps Camp in the Mountains). - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's In the Clouds for Uncle Sam, by Ashton Lamar - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE CLOUDS FOR UNCLE SAM *** - -***** This file should be named 54056-0.txt or 54056-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/0/5/54056/ - -Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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