In the afternoon before, Hike had been reading in the Washington papers all the things he _hadn’t_ said to the reporters, and a great many things he hadn’t done, with some things such as discovering Crocker Land by aeroplane, which he’d like to do but didn’t expect to. His hostess’s maid, a colored girl, knocked at his door to say that “a man from Gennul Tho’ne wanted to see him.” Going down, Hike found a thick-set, low-browed fellow, built for rough and tumble fights, quietly dressed in neat clothes, who said: “Mr. Griffin? General Thorne’s compliments and he wishes to see you at his office in regard to the aeroplane. He is waiting there—though it’s after hours—and would be grateful if you could come at once. I’m connected with the office, and I’ll go down with you in the carriage, if you don’t mind.” “Certainly. Just a moment, till I get my cap,” and Hike dashed upstairs. He was so busy wondering what General Thorne wanted, and thinking how different it was to ride in a carriage instead of in a gale-tossed aeroplane, that he did not waste much time in asking himself why General Thorne should have sent an ordinary public four-wheeler, with a seedy coachman, instead of a private carriage, or an army Q. M. D. carriage. He noticed that the carriage did not turn directly down toward town, but that did not interest him much till suddenly there they were, emerging on a bridge that certainly was not the Rock Creek Bridge. No—it was the long Aqueduct Bridge, crossing the Potomac—and not leading down town, but to Virginia and the country. He was surprised and a little indignant. He was starting to ask his companion why they were going this way. The carriage stopped, the door swung open, another man sprang in and handed to the “messenger from General Thorne” a big cloak, which the latter deftly threw over Hike’s head. Stiffening his lean, sinewy legs, Hike hit out with tangled fists and elbows. He was stifling and his head was all in darkness, but he made out that he had caught his stocky companion a good one in the chest. But strong hands were holding his ankles; others were binding the cloak about him with light rope; then some one was tying his thighs, his ankles, and jerking the cloak ever tighter about him. To save his strength, Hike sat quite still. He panted with the little air that crept in among the tight folds of the cloak; and the hastily arranged cords seemed to cut his legs in two. But he made himself be calm and think this all out. Now, he noticed, the cab door had slammed again; and the vehicle had started up. He could feel the vibration of the carriage as the horse’s hoofs sharply clattered on the bridge-planks. Apparently the second man, who had brought the cloak, was gone.