Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1918-03-29
VII.
Milky Does a Reckless Thing.

Milky Does a Reckless I ming.
Milky Larisch had been having an
exciting time.
First of all, he exchanged garments
with the chauffeur, and cursed his own
long legs, which proved difficult to
cover adequately. But the chauffeur's
long fur ulster helped considerably.
The exchange was rather a ticklish
matter, and would have been more so
had he not found a revolver in the
fur coat pocket.
Behold, then, Milky of the brave
heart standing over his PROSTATE pris-
oner, and rolling him, mummy fashion,
In his own tunic and a rug from the
machine.
"It is cold, my friend" he said
briefly; "but I am a kindly soul, and
If you have told me the truth, you will
mot have so much as a shuttle to re-
mind you of this tomorrow"
81 have told the truth"
"As a soldier, of course" Milky
went on, "I think you have made a
mistake. You should have chosen the
precipice. But as a private gentle
man, I thank you"
Having examined the knots in the
rope, which were very well done, in
deed, and having gagged the chauffeur
securely, Milky prepared to go. In his
goggles, with the low-visored cap and
fur coat, he looked not unlike his late
companion. But he had a jaunty step
as he walked toward the car, q bit Of
swagger that covered, perhaps, just a
trifle of uneasiness.
For Milky now knew his destination,
knew that he was bound on perilous
work, and that the chances of his re-
turning were about ffty-ifty, or rather
less.
He did not know his way. Over the
mountains it was plain enough, for
there was but one road. After he
descended into the plain of Karnia,
however, it became difficult. Sign
posts were few and not explicit. But
bat last he found the railroad, which
he knew well-that railroad without
collective, save as it would serve to
move troops toward the border. After
that Milky found it easier.
But, with his course assured, other
difficulties presented themselves. To
take the letter to those who would re-
ceive it was one thing. But to deliver
1t, with all that it might contain, vas
another. He was not brilliant, was
Milky. Only brave and simple of
heart, and IMMERSED in the ways of
darkness.
If, now, he could open the letter and
remove it, substituting-well, what
could he substitute? There were
cigarette papers in his pocket. Trust
Milky for that. But how to make the
exchange?
The engine was boiling hard, a dull
roaring under the hood that threat
ened trouble. He drew up beside the
road and took off the water cap. Then
he whistled. Why. of course Had IT
not been done from time i~mmemorial,
this steaming of letters? He examined
1t. 1t bore nc discriminating seal.
He held the envelope owe the water
cap, and was boyishly pleased to feel
the flap loosen. After all, things were
easy enough if one used ones brains.
He rather regretted using almost all
of his cigarette papers, of course. He
had, perhaps, never heard of the drop
of nicotine on the tongue of a dog.
AS for the letter itself, he put it,
without even glancing at it, into his
cap, under the lining. Then he sealed
the envelope again and dried it against
one of the lamps. 1t looked, he e
Elected, as good as new.
He was extremely pleased with him.
self.
Before he returned to the machine
he consulted his watch. 1t was three
o'clock. True, the long early spring
night gave him four more hours Of
darkness. But the messenger was due