Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1914-08-28


his obsevent impe-.urbability that OF
satisfaction thst tho machine was the
enemy's. IS thinking of the ex-
hibiuon, not of the nan IN lne ma
chine.
Marta was thinking of the man who
was about to die. She rushed down the
terrace steps wildly. as If her going
and her agonized prayer could avert
the inevitable. The plane, descending,
skinned the garden wall and passed
out of sight. She heard q thud, crack.
ling of braces, ripping of cloth, but
no cry.
Westerling had started after her, ex-
claiming, This is case fer first add"
while Mrs. Galland. taking the steps
as fast as she could. brought up the
rear. Through the gateway in the gar
den wall could be seen the shoulders
OF a young officer, a streak of red
coursing down his check, rising from
the wreck. An inarticulate sob of re-
lief broke from Mcrta's throat, fol-
lowed by quick gasps Of breath. Cap
tain Arthur Lanstron was looking into
the startled eyes of young girl that
seemed to reflect his own emotions of
the moment after having shared those
he had in the air
Il few! few clear over the range,
at any rate!" he said And I'm alive.
I managed to hold her so she missed
the wall and made an easy bump"
He got one foot free of the wreck
and that leg was all right. She shared
his elation. Then he found that the
other was uninjured, Just as she cried
in distress:
But your hand-oh, your hand!"
His left hand hung limp from the
wrist, cut, mashed and bleeding. Its
nerves numbed, he had not as yet felt
any pain from the injury. Now he re-
garded it in kind of awakening stare
of realization of deformity to come
'Wool-gathering again!" he NUT.
tered to himself GROSSLY.
Then, seeing that she had turned
white. he thrust the disgusting thing
behind his back and twinged with the
movement. The pain was arriving.
1T must be bandaged! l have a
handkerchief" she begged. I'm not
going to faint or anything like that!"
Only bruised-and it's the left
am glad 1t was not the right" he re.
piled. Westerling arrived and Joined
Marta in offers of assistance just as
they heard the prolonged honk of an
automobile demanding the right OF
way at top speed in the direction of
the pass.
Thank you, but they're coming for
me" said Lanstron to Westerling as
he glanced up the road.
Westerling was looking at the wreck.
Lanstron, who recognized him as an
officer, though in mufti, kicked a bit of
the torn cloth over some apparatus to
hide 1t. At this Westerling smiled
family. Then Lanstron saluted as Of
ficer to officer might salute across the
white posts, giving his name and re-
ceiving in return Weeterling's.
They made a contrast, these two
men, the colonel of the Grays, swart
and sturdy, his physical vitality so evi.
dent, and the captain of the Browns,
some seven or eight years the junior,
bareheaded, in dishevelled fatigue
uniform, his lips twitching, his slender
body quivering with the pain that he
could not control, while his rather
bold forehead and delicate, sensitive
features suggested man of nerve and
nerves who might have left expert
ments in a laboratory for an adventure
in the air. There was a kind of chal-
lenSe in their glances; the challenge
OF an ancient feud of their peoples;
of the professional rivalry of polite
duellists. Lanstron's slight figure
seemed to express the weaker number
of the three million soldiers of the
Browns; Westerling's bulkier one, the
four million FIVE hundred thousand Of
the Grays.
You had narrow squeak and you
made a very snappy recovery at the
last second" said Westerling, passing
a compliment across the white posts.
That's in the line of duty for you
and me, isn't it?" Lanstron replied.
his voice thick with pain as he forced
q smile.
There was no pose in his fortitude.
He was evidently disgusted with him
self over the whole business, and he
turned to the group of three officers
and a civilian who alighted from big
Brown army automobile as If he were
prepared to have them say their worst.
They seemed between the impulse Of
reprimanding and embracing him.
Il hope that you are not surprised at
the result" said the oldest of the Of
ficers, man of late middle age, rather
affectionately and teasingly. He wore
single order on his breast, a plain
iron cross. and the insignia Of his rank
was that of a field-marshal
mot now. l should be again, sir," f"
said Lanstron, looking full at the field
marshal in the appeal of one asking
for another chance. II was wool-gath-
ering But | shall not wool-gather next