THE HAND ON THE PLOUGH.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 11825, 30 November 1901, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE HAND ON THE PLOUGH.

BY JOHN STRANGE ; WINTER, Author of "Booties' Baby/' " A Magnificent Young Man," " Heart and Sword," " The Colonel's Daughter," " Every Inch a Soldier," Etc., Etc.

[COPYRIGHT.}

[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.]

SYNOPSIS OP PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTERS I. and Seven years before our Story opens Dick Vincent had arrived in California, and struck a partnership with Roger Meredith in a ranche and oil claim. They were both " gentlemen." and at different times had held commissions in the same regiment. Dick Vincent, as a. delicate young man, had come to California to pass the winter; Meredith, a strong man of 46, had come out eight year* before Vincent as a derelict of society. After their first casual meeting they stayed on together; and now, after seven years' labour, and many a fall on the part of Meredith, they reap their reward, and find they have £5000 each to their credit, beside their joint interest in the oil claim. In tho discussion of the question of investment Vincent discloses bis plan of buying a farm in the old country, which has always been coveted by his father. For this purpose he intends taking "three months' holiday, and invites Meredith to accompany him. Meredith declines, and for the first time confesses to having a wife and child "at home." where his presence might upset matters; he would rather wait until Vincent's return and go later, and expresses a desponding hope that he win not break out again in Vincent's absence, the latter having been Meredith's watchdog for the past two years, during which he had enjoyed immunity from bis violent intemperance. Meredith commissions Vincent to look up his wife, sound her feelings towards her longsilent husband, and if unchanged bring her hack with him. If she has taken him to bo dead, and married again. Vincent is to use Meredith's money at his discretion (which ispaid into the bank to Vincent's order), and keep " mum" abont his chum. CHATTER lll.—Vincent and Meredith journey toward New York together. At the first stop Meredith breaks out agaiM into a wild orgio of drunkenness.

CHAPTER IV. [From the moment that Roger Meredith raised the bottle to his lips Dick Vincent completely lost control over him. Beyond arranging with the landlord to water the whisky he was powerless to do move than sit down and wait the issue of events. For one thing Meredith was, as I have said, a man of enormous stature and of immensely powerful physique: it would have been impossible to use force, at all events useless for Dick to do so, and Dick was the only person in the hotel who was deeply interested in keeping Meredith straight. He gave, up all idea of proceeding further on his journey, and determined to sit down and wait, with what patience he could, the usual issue of the drinking bout. Meredith's drinking bouts had always gone on the same lines —a few days of mad drinking, then a period of sleeplessness with fits of uncontrollable frenzy. Between the inability to sleep, and the inability to eat, even Meredith's magnificent strength would break down in time, and with the helplessness of weakness would come the chance to knock off drink entirely and start life again with the diet of a little child. Then Dick would get him back to Santa Clara again, and begin the task of building him up into : a steady-going, reputable character. ]

Dick was terribly downcast at the turn which events had taken. He blamed himself for not making some excuses and turning back -when he first perceived how gloomy and depressed Meredith had become. " He has thrown himself back years!" his thoughts ran on the second day after they had reached Midas Creek, when Meredith was sitting in a corner of the " house place," no longer a man, but a mere whisky-consuming animal. His great frame seemed to have shrunk somewhat; his eyes, fixed on the fire or some part of the room where there were no people, were bloodshot and lack-lustre,' his hands were shaky, and when he managed to reel from one place to another his knees visibly gave under his weight. He was a pitiable object, and Dick determined, as he found that they were strangely enough unknown to any of the people in the hotel, that he would, as far as possible, keep his identity a secret. His friend's nam? he had already mentioned to the landlord, who was comparatively a newcomer to the .neighbourhood; his own he was careful not to tell. Life in the Far West is very free and easy. Those who frequented the hotel kept as much as possible out of the way of Meredith, whom they regarded as a dangerous brute, too far gone in drink even to quarrel with. Some of them had no idea that the two were travelling together; others, with scarce more than a passing thought, wondered that a smart young fellow like Dick could trouble himself to" try to keep such a brute straight. And Meredith, mind you, hid degenerated into a mere brute. Those who had known him in his sober days would hardly have recognised the sodden, inert mass which he had now become. So three or four days went by. Dick did not keep very closely 'to the hotel, but prospected the immediate neighbourhood—thus quite unwittingly giving an impression that he was thinking of buying land and establishing himself near by. In truth, Dick was so miserable that he kept as much out of the hotel as possible, in order that he might not see the degrading process which would, he hoped, eventually bring Meredith once more under his control and influence. So four days had gone by. It happened on the evening of the fourth day that Dick ; returned from a prowl round the little town. ! He was met at the door by the landlord, tvho wore an anxious face. " We've had a most awful time," he ex:laimed. " Your friend has gone clean off ais head. Oh, yes, completely. The fact is he came into* the bar for another bottle of whisky, and he had gone through the other so fast, and he came upon me so suddenly for it, that I hadn't time to doctor it. The fact is, that he took it off the shelf himself." . . "And of course the raw spirit imished the business." said Dick with a groan. '•What are you tjoing to do?" " Do?" said the landlord. " Weil, he is like a dangerous lunatic at present. We look to you to do something." " I can't do anything," said Dick. " I am a mere thread-paper compared to him. Where is he?" " Oh. he is up in that corner of the ' house place' by the window, jibbering like an ape. and muttering and talking to himselr and hurling threats at somebody or other. I wish he was safe out of the, place." . "So dc I." said Dick. "He hasn't had a bout of this kind for over two years. I suppose it's something in the atmosphere of the. place that has started him on again. Anyvay. there is nothing for it now but doing the* best we can for him. I will go and see what he says to me, ; sometimes he will let me do as 1 like with him. Anyhow, this sort of thing cannot last long, because he never sleeps and he never eats, and of course his strength gets reduced very quickly. He will be all right when once lie gets the turn, you know." ' "I hope he will!' said the landlord; '1 don't like having a wild beast in my place at all. I am not used to it." Dick laughed. " You will have to get used to some very queer things if you stay out here long," he returned. "Ay," said the landlord; "poverty makes us acquainted with strange bedfellows." Dick turned round and looked at him. " You had a better position in the Old Country *" I had that same," said the landlord. " I needn't say that I don't carry*the same name here that I did at home. I am doing well enough, I am able to make a living here, and a good one. I was a failure at it over there, bnt if my people could see me serving out whisky to such fellows as that, W ell— think those that are dead would turn in their graves, and those that are living would never get their hair to lie straight again." (> ~ " Ah, well, life's a queer riddle, said Dick, 'and that poor chap in there has found it as queer a riddle as most people. He's a good sort at the bottom, when he hasn't got these drinking fits." "Ah, me, that's the ease with a good many men," said the .landlord. " But I do wish" you would go in and see what you can make of him." Dick turned on his heel and went into the " house place." It was practically deserted, although in a very short time dinner would be spread on the long table which ran from end to end of it. In a huge armchair near.

the fireplace a man sat, half-asleep. He was a stranger, who had arrived a short time before by the coach, and had settled himself down to wait until dinner should be ready. At a table further on two men were playing cards, with pipes in their mouths, and each with a glass of rye whisky at his elbow. In the corner, near to the "big window" as it was called in contradistinction to two small windows on the opposite side of the room, sat Roger Meredith. He had turned his chair so that his back was towards the room, and the bottle of whisky which he had seized from the landlord was standing on the table beside him. Standing? No, I should say lying in such a way as clearly showed that it was empty. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, his chin was sunk upon his breast, his glaring eyes were fixed on the window, and his helpless hands hung over the arms of his chair.

"Death!" he was saying, as Dick softly approached him. " Death ! I will be even with him yet. I have owed him a grudge these nine years; I will pay it with interest. Psalm-singing devil! He thought to come over me with his Bible quotations. Roger Meredith ain't that sort. Roger Meredith never forgets. Roger Meredith never forgives. Roger Meredith pays his debts. So I will pay this debt. Boy'! Roy, more whisk}-!" The Chinese boy came running at the sound of his name. " More whiskley? Blingeo d'lectly." He seized the bottle and ran away back to the bar. Meredith went on muttering, " I know what it all meant. He wanted —and that was at the bottom of it. He had seen her ; he thought if I could get her out here that he'd get hold of her. The hound! So he offered to lend me the money; and now I've plenty of money—heaps of it—piles of it. I could run my fingers through it like a miserl could "let it fall like a shower of golden rain. Boy! More whisky!" At that moment Dick went forward and [laid his hand upon Meredith's shoulder. " Old chap," he said, " don't have any more whisky." Meredith looked up. " Who the devil are you?" he asked with a ludicrous attempt at dignity. " What the deuce do you mean by interfering with me? Can't a gentleman —staying in an hotel—order what he likes? I—l resent your interference, sir."

"Meredith! Meredith! Roger!" "Do you want to borrow money of me?" Meredith demanded. "Landlord! Landlord!"' The landlord came hastily across the " house place." " What is the matter now?" he asked. " The matter is —count erjumper is interfering with me. Put him out. Do you hear? Put him out. Send me some more whisky." Dick shrugged his shoulders and turned away. "Am I to give him more whisky?" said the landlord.

" Well, there's no keeping him off it till he gets to a certain point, and then it will cure itself, Hut for God's sake water it." " Oh, I'll water it,' said the landlord. " But you know the score is running up pretty much." " Oh, I'll come into the bar and settle the score. I'll pay up to to-night, and then you can make me out a fresh bill in a day or two's time." Thus authorised, the Chinese boy carried yet another bottle of rye whisky, or what purported to be rye whisky, to Roger Meredith. " I don't think," said Dick to the landlord, " that he'll go on very much longer. When he gets to this stage of talking utter rot he always collapses a bit, and then he's in for a good howl and is amenable enough. If I could give him a strong opiate now I should be glad." "Have you got anything with you?" said the landlord. " No, I haven't. I suppose I could get something at the chemist's. Is there a chemist's store in the street?" " Oh, yes, there's a chemist's store, and a very good one. There's almost everything." " Then I'll go down and get a good dose of the stuff that I usually give him. Now, landlord, that settles both accounts right up to to-night— it?" " Yes, it does that same, sir. Very much obliged to you. You see, when a man has such a vast quantity of stuff be might repudiate it when he comes to." "Oh, he wouldn't do that; he isn't that sort at all. Now I'll be off down the street."

He left the hotel, and went at a brisk pace down the steep village streetfor although they called it a town. Midas Creek was no larger than we at Home would call a village. About half-way down the street he came to the store of which the landlord had told him, and there purchased a generous sleeping draught. As he came hurriedly out of the store he cannoned against a man passing by. "I'm sure I beg your pardon," said Dick. "Don't, mention it, stranger!" said the other. "It was an accident. Am I going right for Butter's Hotel?" " Yes, I am going back there. We can go up together if you like." " Why, certainly. I'll be glad of your company. It seems to be durned queer for the hotel to be a quarter of a mile from the cars.''

"It is queer," said Dick. " However, there it is. I suppose Ruttev took it as he found it." "Is it a decent place?" "Oh, yes." " Well," oddly enough, though I know this part of the country well I have never been in Midas Creek before." said the stranger. "I've got a pretty important business to come about now that I have come." "Have you?" said Dick. "Well, it's good to hear of important business. I always like to do so. It isn't a bad little place, but, I must say, I would rather be further up myself." " Yes," said the stranger, " there's all sorts of temptations in a town that you don't get on the ranches." "That's the hotel," said Dick, as they came in sight of the lights of Putter's. " Oil, that's it, is it?" said the stranger. " It looks an English enough billet."

" Oh, it's English enough," said Dick. " He does it very well as an Englishman." Oh, yes, they do it very well in a small way, but if you want to run a big hotel you must get a Yankee to do it; but for this sort of'little home-by-the-wayside business ■ Britishers do well enough." As they turned into the lioteh Dick piloted his new friend to the bar, where the landlord was generally to be found.

"Here's a new guest for you, landlord," lie said, cheerily. ""He felt, somehow, with that comfortable sleeping draught in his pocket, that his troubles with Meredith were fast coming to a close; indeed, he little thought how fast. The landlord came out of the bar and greeted the stranger with his usual cordial geniality, and showed him the door into the "house place." As he crossed the large room the stranger turned with an astonished air to Dick.

"Why," said he, "that's Meredith! I haven't seen him for years and years and years. He's at' his old game!" " He's been on the drink for several days," said Dick; "drinkinghard drinking ; —except when the landlord doctored it."

All! I shouldn't have thought that he would have lasted ho long, though he had a constitution of iron. I've known him for years. He's a brute ; an unmitigated brute. What a stroke of bad luck for a decent man like Rutter to have Meredith pitch upon his place as a likely spot for a. booze. Yes, I call that a stroke of downright bad luck."

"It's bad luck for everybody, where drink is concerned," said Dick. " The landlord makes out of the drink, but he has had enough of it, and more than enough of it." As the words left Dick's lips Meredith lunged out of his chair on to his feet, wheeled round, and saw the two men crossin" the room together. As his eyes fell upon Dick his whole person seemed to be transformed ; his face fairly lighted up with demoniacal rage. He was no longer shrunken and enfeebled, his splendid frame seemed to be swollen with fury to even more than its normal size.

"Is it you?" he said. "Is it you? I've been looking for you these nine years. You devil! So you have come in my path at last!"

"Why, what on earth are you talking about?" asked Dick. " What am I talking about? You dare to bandy words with me? I've prayed every time I thought of you, for nine years past, that you might be delivered up into

my hands, and now—now I've got you, and there's no escape for you!" " Don't talk rot!" said Dick. "Rot. Is it rot? Yes — rot that you'll be presently. You've known all along that when 1 got you, when once I got my fingers on you, I'd shake the life out of you like a dog!" He made a rush forward to seize Dick by the throat. Dick parried the blow- and stepped quickly to one side. The nest moment Meredith had whipped his revolver out of his hip pocket. '"Look out! He's got a six-shooter!" cried the Yankee.

Up went Dick's arm again in a vain attempt to knock the weapon out of Meredith's hand. The next moment the two men had closed together. Knowing Meredith as well as he did Dick had a fair idea of what would be his method, and every moment he expected to feel the muzzle ol the revolver against his temple. In a flash he made up his mind that he would sell his life dearly. If only he could knock the weapon out of Meredith's hand he felt that he would not have the strength to continue the struggle very long. But, heavens, how strong he was! He tried time and again to overthrow him, but although Meredith had drunk himself into a frenzy during the past few days Dick had no more power to move him than he would have had to move the side of a house. The great muscles stood out upon his legs like knots of steel; the grip upon his right shoulder made Dick sick with pain. His left hand was ail that he really had to defend himself with; and at last, when he felt his strength going, when he felt Meredith's hot breath upon his face, and then the touch of the cold steel upon his left cheek, he flung up his arm in a last desperate effort to protect himself. There was a puff of smoke and the sharp crack of a pistol shot, a further onslaught from Meredith, and then, as a last hope, Dick contrived to wrench his right arm free, and get at his own revolver. It was the work of a moment. A fresh rush from Meredith, the crack of Dick's revolver, a scream, and then tho giant hands relaxed their hold, and Meredith tumbled to lie ground with a sickening thud, and lay there absolutely motionless.

CHAPTER V. As Meredith fell to the floor the hubbub of voices which had accompanied the struggle died away into silence. " He's done for!' said the landlord, kneeling down beside the huge prostrate form. Dick Vincent stood by, his nerveless hands still holding his revolver, his face tilled with horror and dismay. " You don't mean that he is—dead?" he burst out. "I do; dead as a doornail," answered the landlord. "Did I do it?" " Well, it got done. There's little blame attached to anyone." " You don't think it was his revolver that went off?" "We can soon settle that point," said the man who had walked up the street with Dick. " Let's have a look at your play-toy. Oh, one shot missing. Was it fully loaded?" " Yes, it was." There was no thought in Dick's mind of keeping any of the truth back. " Let's look at Meredith's six-shooter, landlord," the stranger went on. " Meredith was his name?" said the landlord, gently disengaging the weapon from Meredith's nerveless fingers. Yes: Meredith. I've not seen him for years. Ah, you see! Only one shot. That was the shot he fired when you threw his arm up. Well, stranger, I am afraid you must put him down to your account. You have done many a worse deed in your life than putting that chap out of the road." " I didn't wilfully put him out of the road," said Vincent. "It was his life or mine."

" I don't know you sir, but I'll lay long odds that yours was the better life of the two. It couldn't be worse than his, anyhow. And whatever country you live in. there's one law that always holds good; when your life's threatened sell it as dear as you can. The best thing you can do is to clear out." " Oh, I can't do that," said Dick. " I must stay and see the inquiry through." Well," said the stranger, "I advise you to clear out. It will be the easiest way for you and for everybody concerned. You don't know anybody here, do you?" " Not a soul*!" said Dick. " Then clear out." While this conversation was going on the landlord, with the help of several men, was busy removing the inert mass that had once been Roger Meredith into an outer chamber. It was a room next to the stables that had been used for such a purpose before ; in fact, they called it the " inquest room." "I suppose he is really dead"'" said one of the men, when they had lifted him on to the great table where, accidents usually were deposited. " Dead as a doornail!" answered the landlord : " and there's no chance of getting a doctor to him, either. Jericho has gone, off to Barnes Drift—to attend to Barnes' wife. Not the slightest chance of getting at him under several hours. Besides, he is dead, Look at him."

The stranger who had foregathered with Dick came in just in time to hear the landlord's words.

"Well, I'm a doctor myselfat-least, I was once," he remarked. "The man's dead enough, but if you have any doubt I'll make a regular examination." " Yes, I think it would be as well," said the landlord. "We haven't a chance of getting Jericho here for some hours. It would be a satisfaction to the young gentleman that settled his business for him.' It would be a satisfaction to everybody who has ever had the pleasure —or the misfortune—to come across Meredith,' said the stranger, with uncompromising directness. "Do you speak intimately of him?" said the landlord. " Did you know him well"" " 1 have known him for years —at least, 1 knew him for years, a long time ago I haven't seen him for many a lung day; didn't want." " Did ho always drink?" "Always. Always drunk, always quarrelsome, 'always getting the horrors badly. I've seen him lull two men when he was oil the drink. He was a lucky chap, too. He always slipped out of everything. However, he's met his match at last, and a very good job for everybody concerned. If 1 were you, landlord, I should make as little fuss as I could. So far as I ever knew Meredith was a- man without a friend. Never met anybody that didn't execrate him. He was a coward and a bully; an out-and-out blackguard that was a detriment to any part of the world that he happened to be in."

At this point Dick, who had followed the group of men, by a sort of natural instinct That he would hot seem to be trying to sneak out of the responsibility of what he had done, opened his mouth to speak. The stranger stopped him. "Now. listen to me!" he said. "I never saw you until to-day; I don't know your name, or where you come from ; I don't want to know it."

" As a matter of fact, none of us know it," said the landlord.

" Then don't ask if. As for you, stranger, if you know anything about Meredith keep it dark. The man's dead; he was lulled in a fair fight—at least, he was killed in a fight that was obviously unfair to you, fot you are half his size. Anyway, fair or unfair, the man's dead, and nothing will bring him back to life again. Take my advice and clear out of this. You have nothing to gain by remaining; you have nothing to gain by facing it out. Don't tell your name, or where you have come from, or anything about yourself. Clear out!" By this time the other men, who were well' used to little accidents of the sort, had all trooped away out of the room, leaving the landlord, Dick, and the stranger alone with the dead man. The announcement that he was a. doctor, or, as he had put it, " by way of being a doctor," had helped to this end. In spile of the fearful object lesson which they had helped to remove every man of them felt in immediate need of a drink.

As the quick, decided words of advice left the stranger's lips Dick stood irresolute, looking first upon the landlord and then upon his new friend. " It isn't like me to turn my back on a danger," he said at last. " Oh, turning your back on a danger fiddle! It-isn't "that at all. There's nothing to be gained by facing it out.' "Look here!" said the landlord, taking him by the arm and drawing him away towards the door. " The last time a man was shot here the sheriff swore that he would make an example of the next one. You are the next one. Do you want to be made an example of? If you make a bolt for it in the confusion of the moment — nobody can blame any of us. I like you; you

squared up his drinks without a word, and they were heavy enough to make most people open their eyes and sit up. I'd like to see you out of this. Take my adivce; take that lantern-jawed chap's advice. Git. The sound eommonsense of this argument appealed to Dick with irresistible force. After all, he had committed no sin. The whole affair had been more or less ol an accident, entirely an accident so far as he had been concerned. It had been a question of his life or Meredith's. He had honestly done his best to keep Meredith straight —indeed, he had kept Meredith straight for years on end but this time he had broken out beyond all power of any ordinary man to control. And, after all, why, having killed the man, should he remain to be sacrificed, from a false sense of honour.' If he were hanged or lynched twenty times over that would not bring Meredith backto life again : and if nothing was to be gained by remaining why should he not go.' '" You really think I had better go?' he said, looking the man fair and square in the eyes. " Yes, I really do. You have no very great amount of time to lose. I must send di.wn for the sheriff— know he happens to be away, but I must send for him all the same— the moment I have done so I must forbid anvbodv to leave the house. There's a train," taking out his watch and looking at it, " in a quarter of an hour from now. Don't say a word to anybody. Take your bag, for that might lead to ideatih'eation. and go." " Thank you, landlord, I will. I see that you .are perfectly right, and 1 am very much obliged to you." He turned back to the stranger, who was standing looking down on Meredith's dead face. "Sir," he said, "I don't kno-v your name any more than you know mine, but I am infinitely obliged to you. for the advice you have given me." "I am sure," said the stranger, ' that it is the wisest course for you to take.' Look here! I like you; I like your nice and generous English face. You will naturally feel some anxiety about the outcome of all this; here's my name and my home address. Write to me in a week's time, and I'll tell you how things have gone. I'll send you the local paper; there's sure to be an account in it. Then you can possess your soul in peace, and know whether it is safe to come within a hundred miles of this or not."

" Thank you a dozen times," said Dick. " You are a good friend, if ever a man bad one. Perhaps some day I may be able to repay the genuine friendship you have shown me to-day-" " Don't speak of it," said the stranger. " I am only too glad to have been able to do it. A man must be forgiven for not keeping his head cool under such circumstances as these. By the way, you needn't tell me your name when you write to me: it isn't in the least necessary. Call yourself Robert Martin; that name is as good a name as any other, and I can as easily write to Robert Martin at some post office as I can write to you in your own name and to your home, wherever it is."

Dick put out his hand and took the stranger's in a mighty grip. " God bless you," he said. " You have done me a good turn,' and you have done it in a gentlemanlike way. I can't thank you any better than I have tried to do already. Good-bye!" "Good-bye!" said the stranger. Then Dick Vincent turned to take a last farewell of the man who had been his comrade and chum for more than seven years, "Old fellow," he said, "I little thought ever to take a man's life, let alone yours. If you are up there, or anywhere about, you'll know that I didn't mean it." He bent down and touched the nerveless hand. " Goodbye, old chap," he whispered, "good-bye!" Then, without another word, he turned and went quickly to his room in search of the small bag which was all that he had taken to the hotel with him. It merely contained a change of clothing and his necessary toilet requisites. Clothes were not so plentiful at Santa Clara as to be worth carrying about from place to place. Meredith's second coat and waistcoat were lying on his bed. As quick as thought Dick Vincent caught up the waistcoat and thrust his hand into the inner pocket. As he had expected, in his unhinged state of mind Meredith, In changing his clothes, had forgotten to' transfer the portrait of his wife from one pocket to the other. The little case was there, and Dick thrust it into his own breast-pocket. Then he glanced round the room to see that there was nothing of his that he had left behind. No, not a thing ; all that there was belonged to Meredith:

He opened the door quietly, looked out and saw that the coast was clear, ran down the stairs, and passing the door of the "house place" on tiptoe, he noiselessly left the house and plunged into the fast gathering gloom of evening. He glanced at his watch as he passed the first light in the street. Ten minutes to catch the train; ample time, provided that nobody came to stop him. He swung steadily along, down the narrow, irregular street, past the different stores with their flaring lights, round the corner, up the narrow dark lane, and under the rough portico of the railway- depot. A ticket for the next station was soon taken ; he had thought it out while corning down the road, and if inquiries were made for him it would be just as well not to leave behind evidence that he was going straight to New York. He saw with satisfaction as he passed on to the miserable and ill-lighted platform that there were a good many passengers of about his own age and appearance.

Then a bright thought struck him. He slipped into the great travelling ulster, turned up the collar, • pulled his cap well over his eyes, and went back to the ticket office. There he took a. ticket for New York. He felt sure that the clerk had not recognised him as the man who had taken a ticket for the next station a few minutes previously. Then the train came majestically in, some passengers alighted, and the wafting ones boarded the cars.-the whistle sounded, and Dick Vincent had begun the second stare of his flight. (To be continued.)