The Sky Pilot in No Mans Land | Page 2

Was he--was he--dressed?" inquired the girl.
"Dressed? No. No."
"Did he--did he--hear me--calling?"
"Of course he did. That's what startled him, I imagine. Poor boy! I fear
he is gone."
"Did he fall in, or did he dive?"
"He seemed to dive, but he has not come up. I fear he is gone."
"Oh, nonsense, father," said the girl. "I bet you he has swum round the
bend. Just go over the rock and see."
"God grant it!" said her father.
He dropped his paddle, ran up over the rock and down into the little
dell on the other side that ran down to the water's edge. There he saw a
tent, with all the accompaniments of a well ordered camp, and a man
cooking breakfast on a small fire.
"Well, I'll be combusticated!" he said to himself, weakly holding to a
little poplar tree.
"I say!" he cried, "where is he? Has he come in? Is he all right?"
"Who?" said the man at the fire.
"The boy on the rock."

The man gazed at him astonished, then as if suddenly grasping his
meaning, replied,
"Yes, he came in. He's dressing in the tent."
"Well, I'll be condumbusticated!" said the man. "Say! what the devil
does he mean by scaring people out of their senses in that way!"
The man at the fire stood gazing at him in an utterly bewildered way.
"If you will tell me exactly what you are after, I may be able to help
you."
The other drew slowly near the fire. He was still pale, and breathing
quickly.
"Hello, dad, is breakfast ready?" came a cheery voice from the tent.
"Thank God, he is alive apparently," said the man, sinking down on a
log beside the fire. "You must pardon me, sir," he said. "You see, I saw
him take a header into the pool from that high rock over yonder, and he
never came up again. I thought he was drowned."
The man at the fire smiled.
"The young villain gave you a fright, did he? One of his usual tricks.
Well, as his father, and more or less responsible for him, I offer the
most humble apology. Have you had breakfast?"
"Yes. But why did he do such a thing?"
"Ask him. Here he comes."
Out from the tent came the youth in shorts, the warm glow of his body
showing through the filmy material.
"Hello!" he cried, backing toward the tent door. "You are the man with
the paddle. Is there by any chance a lady with you, or did I hear a lady's
voice over there? I assure you I got a deuce of a fright."

"You gave me the supreme fright of my life, young man, I can tell you
that."
"But I surely heard a lady's voice," said the youth.
"You did. It was my daughter's voice, and it was she who suggested
that you had swum around the bend. And she sent me over here to
investigate."
"Oh, your daughter. Excuse me," said the youth. "I shall be out in a few
minutes." He slid into the tent, and did not reappear.
The man remained chatting with the youth's father for a few minutes,
then rising said,
"Well, I feel better. I confess this thing gave me something of a shock.
But come round and see us before we go. We shall be leaving in an
hour."
The man at the fire promised to make the visit, and the other took his
departure.
A few minutes later the youth reappeared.
"Is breakfast ready?" he cried. "My, but I'm hungry! But who is he,
dad?"
"Sit down," said his father, "and get your breakfast while it is hot."
"But who is he, dad?" persisted the youth.
"Who is he?" said his father, dishing up the bacon. "An oil explorer, an
artist, a capitalist, an American from Pittsburgh, the father of one child,
a girl. Her mother is dead. Nineteen years old, athletic, modern type,
college bred, 'boss of the show' (quotation). These are a few of the facts
volunteered within the limited space of his visit."
"What's he like, dad?"

"Like? Like an American."
"Now, dad, don't allow your old British prejudices to run away with
your judgment."
"On the contrary, I am perfectly charmed. He is one of those Americans
who capture you at once, educated, frank, open, with that peculiar
charm that Britishers will not be able to develop for many generations.
An American, but not of the unspeakable type. Not at all. You will like
him."
"I am sure I shall," replied the youth. "I liked his voice and his face. I
like the Americans. I met such nice chaps at college. So clever, and
with such a vocabulary."
"Vocabulary? Well, I'm not too sure as to the