Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1911-06-23

best Of our civilization seems to be
Towering into. Physically, 1t would
have been hard to suggest an improve
nfent In him, he approached 80 near
the ideal standards. He was fine
grained. supple. slender. smalljointed.
thoroughbred from head to heel.
Intellectually, he had been good
enough to go through the academy at
West Point with credit, and to grad
uate high enough In his class to be
assigned to service In the cavalry. His
standards Of conduct. his ideas of hon
or and morality had been about The
same as those of the best third OF his
classmates. II his fellow officers in
the Philippines, during the year or
two he spent in the service, had been
asked to pick flaw in him, which
they would have been reluctant to do,
they would have said that he seemed
to them a bit too thin-sklnned and
rather fastidious; that was what his
chum and only intimate friend, Perry
Hunter. said about him at any rate.
But he could afford to be fastidi-
Gus, for he had about all man could
want, one would think. For three
generations they had taken wealth
for granted in the Cayley family, and
with 1t had come breeding, security
of social position, simplicity and ease
in making friends, both among men
and women. In short, there could be
no doubt at all that up to his twenty
ninth year Fate had been ironically
kind to Philip Cayley. She had given
him no hint, no preparation for the
stunning blow that was to fall upon
him, suddenly, out Of so clear a sky.
When 1t did fall, 1t cut his life
clean across; so that when he thought
back to that time now, it seemed to
him that the Lieutenant Cayley of the
United States army had died over
there in the Philippines, and that he,
the man who was now soaring in those
great circles through the arctic sky,
was chance inheritor of his name
and of his memory.
He had set out one day at the head
of a small scouting party, the best
liked man in the regiment, secure in
the respect, in the almost fatherly re-
gard, of his colonel, proudly conscious
of the almost idolatrous admiration
of his men and the younger officers.
He had gone out believing that no
one ever had truer friend than he
possessed in Perry Hunter. his class
mate at West Point, his fellow officer
in the regiment, the confldant OF all
his hopes and ideals.
He had come back. after fort
nights absence, to find his name
smeared with disgrace, himself judged
and condemned, unheard, in the opin-
ion of the mess. And that was not
the worst of 1t. The same blow which
had deprived him of the regard of the
only people in the world who matter
ed to him, destroyed, also, root and
branch, his affection for the one man
Of whom he had made an intimate.
The only feeling that 1t would be pos
sible for him to entertain for Perry
Hunter again must be Multiplying,
} half-incredulous contempt. And II
that was his feeling for the man he
had trusted most and loved the most
. deeply, what must be It for the rest of
humankind? What did 1t matter what
, they thought Of him or what they did
| to him? All he wanted Of human So
, ciety was to escape from 1t.
He fell to wondering, as he hung,
| suspended, over that rosy expanse Of
fleecy fog, whether, were the thing to
, do over again, he would act as he had
, acted FIVE years ago; whether he
would content himself with single
disdainful denial of the monstrous
! thing they charged him with; whether
, he would resign again, under fire. and
go away, leaving his tarnished name
, for the DAVIS to peck at.
, Heretofore he had always answered
that question with fierce affirma-
8 tive. Today 1t left him wondering.
+, Had he stayed, had he paid the price
that would have been necessary to
J. clear himself, he would never have
!, found his wings, SO much was clear.
. He would never have spent those
four years in the wilderness, working.
experimenting taking his life in his
. hands, day after day, while he master
r ed the art that no man had ever mas
4 tered before.
I He had set himself this task because
). 1t was the only one he knew that did
:, not involve contact with his fellow
!. beings. He must have something that
!, he could work at alone. Work and
3 solitude were two things that he had
y felt an overmastering craving for. And
: the possibility he had faced with q
light heart every morning-the possi'
0 bility of a sudden and violent death
4 before night. had been no more to
Q him than an agreeable spice to the
y days work.
/ It was not until he had actually
Q learned to fly. had literally shaken the
Q dust of the earth from his feet and
Il taken to the sky as his abode, that his
Q wound had healed. The three months
3 that he had spent in this upper arctic
air, a-wing for 16 hours out of "a, had