e grim.

"I may be all that you say," he sighed. "But, nevertheless, if you
chose to wring my neck at this moment, I could do little to prevent
you. Neither dare I stand between an American girl and the desire of
her heart."

I looked with sympathy upon this gaunt, mighty, old warrior of Wall
Street, bent under the shadow of apprehension and anxiety, and I
knew why he had at last visited Mineola. And as I looked, I, too, my
friend, saw clearly for the first time the reverse of the bright medal
of aerial conquest. I saw the graves of lost comrades, I saw the homes
in mourning, I saw mothers who wept for their bravest boys. Truly the
price was heavy, and I knew in my heart that it had not been paid in
full.

"Monsieur knows," I said, "that I was once a poor mechanician. What I
am now, flight has made me, and I have worked for the glory of flight.
But now I perceive that in encouraging mademoiselle your daughter to
fly, I have perhaps done wrong. I promise you that in future I will do
my best to dissuade her."

He rose, and pressed my hand in gratitude.

"I am wealthy," he said. "I am rich beyond dreams. I can buy anything
for my little girl that she desires--except a single moment's safety
up in the air, or a single moment's true happiness on the earth. And
in pursuit of this flying craze of hers, she may easily miss both."

He frowned suddenly as we emerged into the sunlight and saw the Comte
de Chalons hasten to assist mademoiselle to dismount. Above the
hangars the red storm cone had been hoisted, prohibiting further
flight by pupils. Already the treetops were swaying ominously.

"After all, there are some things that can happen to a girl," said
Monsieur Warren bitterly, "that may well be worse than breaking her
neck in an aeroplane."

He departed in search of his automobile without another word. But I
thought I knew what he meant.

It was at this moment that I first saw him fly, this marvelous birdman
of a Hamlin Power. Away in the direction of New York, so high that
he seemed to hang motionless just under the driving clouds, the
spectators had caught sight of his huge biplane, and had delayed their
departure to watch his approach. It was Georges, dancing on the grass
beside me, who first proclaimed his identity.

"It is he, the crazy pupil!" he cried. "I have seen through my glass
the little silk flag he attached to the nacelle. Now you are going to
marvel that I still live!"

In a few moments the soun