The Sky Pilot in No Mans Land

Sky Pilot in No Man's Land, by
Ralph Connor

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Title: The Sky Pilot in No Man's Land
Author: Ralph Connor
Release Date: June 3, 2006 [EBook #3288]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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PILOT IN NO MAN'S LAND ***

Produced by Donald Lainson

THE SKY PILOT IN NO MAN'S LAND
By Ralph Connor

CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I.
ONLY A MISSIONARY
II. ON THE RED PINE TRAIL
III. A QUESTION OF CONSCIENCE
IV. REJECTED
V. THE WAR DRUM CALLS
VI. THE MEN OF THE NORTH
VII. BARRICADES AND BAYONETS
VIII. A QUESTION OF NERVE
IX. SUBMARINES, BULLPUPS AND OTHER THINGS
X. FRANCE
XI. THE NEW MESSAGE
XII. A MAN OF GOD
XIII. INTENSIVE TRAINING
XIV. A TOUCH OF WAR
XV. THINNING RANKS
XVI. THE PASSING OF McCUAIG
XVII. LONDON LEAVE AND PHYLLIS

XVIII. A WEDDING JOURNEY
XIX. THE PILOT'S LAST PORT
XX. "CARRY ON"

THE SKY PILOT IN NO MAN'S LAND
CHAPTER I
ONLY A MISSIONARY
High upon a rock, poised like a bird for flight, stark naked, his satin
skin shining like gold and silver in the rising sun, stood a youth, tall,
slim of body, not fully developed but with muscles promising, in their
faultless, gently swelling outline, strength and suppleness to an unusual
degree. Gazing down into the pool formed by an eddy of the river
twenty feet below him, he stood as if calculating the distance, his
profile turned toward the man who had just emerged from the bushes
and was standing on the sandy strand of the river, paddle in hand,
looking up at him with an expression of wonder and delight in his eyes.
"Ye gods, what a picture!" said the man to himself.
Noiselessly, as if fearing to send the youth off in flight, he laid his
paddle on the sand, hurriedly felt in his pockets, and swore to himself
vigorously when he could find no sketch book there.
"What a pose! What an Apollo!" he muttered.
The sunlight glistening on the beautiful white skin lay like pools of
gold in the curving hollows of the perfectly modelled body, and ran
like silver over the rounded swellings of the limbs. Instinct with life he
seemed, something in his pose suggesting that he had either alighted
from the golden, ambient air, or was about to commit himself to it. The
man on the sand continued to gaze as if he were beholding a creature of
another world.

"Oh, Lord! What lines!" he breathed.
Slowly the youth began to move his arms up to the horizontal, then to
the perpendicular, reaching to the utmost of his height upon his toe tips,
breathing deep the while. Smoothly, slowly, the muscles in legs and
thighs, in back, in abdomen, in chest, responding to the exercise moved
under the lustrous skin as if themselves were living things. Over and
over again the action was repeated, the muscles and body moving in
rhythmic harmony like some perfect mechanism running in a bath of
oil.
"Ye gods of Greece!" breathed the man. "What is this thing I see? Flesh
or spirit? Man or god?" Again he swore at himself for neglecting to
bring his sketch book and pencil.
"Hello, father! Where are you?" A girl's voice rang out, high, clear, and
near at hand.
"Good Lord!" said the man to himself, glancing up at the poised figure.
"I must stop her."
One startled glance the youth flung down upon him, another in the
direction of the voice, then, like a white, gleaming arrow he shot down,
and disappeared in the dark pool below.
With his eyes upon the water the man awaited his reappearing. A half
minute, a full minute he waited, but in vain. Swiftly he ran toward the
edge of the pool. There was no sign anywhere of the youth.
Ghastly pale and panting, the man ran, as far round the base of the rock
as the water would allow him, seeking everywhere signs of the
swimmer.
"Hello, father! Oh, there you are!" Breaking through the bushes, a girl
ran to him.
"What is it, pater? You are ill. What is the matter?"

"Good heavens! he was there!" gasped the man, pointing to the high
rock. "He plunged in there." He pointed to the pool. "He hasn't come up.
He is drowned."
"Who? What are you saying? Wake up, father. Who was there?"
"A boy! A young man! He disappeared down there."
"A young man?