“You’re right—­and I beg your pardon,” said the Major, bowing to them.  “I spoke thoughtlessly.  So then I have the good fortune to be speaking to the very man I seek?” he went on, turning to Bruce.  “Now I suppose the remaining questions are:  Will you be at liberty to take up aviation again and—­do you want to?”

“That,” said Bruce, struggling to keep his voice steady, “will depend upon at least one thing:  If you will answer one question now, we will promise you a definite answer to-morrow morning at seven o’clock.”

“The question?”

“My friend here, Barney Menter, is quite as skilled an aviator as I am.  If I go, he goes.  What there is in it in pay or peril we will share equally.”

Barney stepped forward to protest, but Bruce held him back and continued:  “Your machine is equipped for two men besides yourself.  Will you take us both?”

“Most certainly,” said the Major heartily.  “In case you decide to accompany me, I shall wire the mechanic not to come and you two may divide the work between you as you may see fit.

“I might say,” he added, “that the pay will be double that which you are now receiving, and the journey will consume the remainder of the season.  Should we decide on something more hazardous, the pay will be in proportion, and there is, besides, a substantial, I might even say a rich reward offered, for the successful completion of this latter task.  However, enough of that for the present.  You can give me your decision in the morning, and I hope you accept.”  He bowed and strode away.

“Now, why didn’t you say ‘Yes’ on the spot?” demanded Barney, impatiently.  “We are required to give only a week’s notice to the company and the nights and mornings of that week we can use getting the machine together and taking a trial flight.”

“I always sleep over a thing,” answered Bruce.  “It’s a habit I inherited from my father.”  Long after, in quite different circumstances, Barney was to remember this remark, and bless Bruce’s inheritance.

Mail had been delivered during their absence.  Barney found a letter on his desk.  He puzzled over the postmark, which was from some Pacific port.  He tore the envelope open, glanced at the letter, then read it with sudden eagerness.

“Bruce,” he exclaimed, “listen to this.  It’s from an old pal of mine, David Tower; entered the navy same time I did the army.”  And he read aloud: 

“Dear Barney: 

“I’m off for somewhere far North; guess not the Pole, but pretty well up that way.  Second officer on a U. S. Sub.  She’s loaned to a queer old chap they call Doctor.  No particulars yet.  Hope this finds you ’up in the air,’ as per usual.

“Dave.”  “That is a coincidence,” said Bruce.  “Perhaps we’ll meet him up there somewhere among the icebergs.”

“I’ll suggest it!” exclaimed Barney, reaching for his pen.

“Dear Dave,” he wrote.  “Am thinking of a little trip North myself.  Our ship’s a 500 HP Handley-Page.  Bring your guitar and oboe along.  My partner and I are bringing saxophone and mandolin.  We’ll have a little jazz.  Till we meet, as ever,