The circle banner., 1918-04-19

/ goggles, with the low-visored cap and
fur coat he looked not unlike his late
companion. But he had jaunty steE
swagger that covered, perhaps, just g
tri1e 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 fifty-fifty, or rather
less.
He did not know his way. Over the
mountains 1t was plain enough, for
there was but one road. After he
descended into the plain Of Karnia,
however, 1t became difficult. Sign
posts were few and not explicit. But
at last he found the railroad, which
he knew well-that railroad without
objective, save as it would serve to
move troops toward the border. After
that Milky found 1t 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
| III, Will Hi tndl II nliSht NOhtoiht Woo
another. He was not brilliant, was
Milky. Only brave and simple of
heart. and unversed In the ways of
| darkness.
If, now, he could open the letter and
remove 1t, 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, 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 immemorial,
this steaming of letters? He examined
1t. 1t bore no discriminating seal.
He held the envelope over 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 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 re-
fiected, 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
ut three, at the hunting lodge In the
mountains which was his destination.
He would be, at the best, late by an
hour.
On what the messenger had told him
Milky hung his hope of success. This |
was, briefly, that he should go to the
royal shooting box at Wedeling, and |
should go, not to the house itself, but |
to the gate keepers lodge. Here he |
was to leave hs machine. and tap at
the door. On it's being opened, he was
to say nothing, but to give the letter
to him who opened the door. After
that he was to take the machine away
to the capital, some sixty miles farther
on.
The message, then, was to the king
himself. For Milky, as all the world,
knew that Karl, with some kindred
spirits, was at Wedeling, shooting.
That is, If the messenger told the
truth. Milky intended to find out. He
was nothing il not thorough.
When at last the lights OF the lodge
at the gate Of Wedeling cleaned out
through the trees, 1T was half-past
three, and wet spring snow was fall
ing softly. In an open place Milky
looked up. The stars were gone.
The lodge now, and the gate keep
er's house. Nikkys heart hammered
as he left the car-hammered with
not terror. But he went
boldly to the door, and Knocked.
So far all was well. There were
footsteps within, and man stepped
)ut into the darkness, closing the door
behind him.
"You have the letter." he asked.
sIt is here"
Il will take it."
Milky held it out. The man fum-
o1ed for it, took it.
"Orders have come" said the voice,
that you remain here for the night. !