Pen stood apart from the spectators, watching Larry whirl, turn turtle, and perform all the aviation agonies so fascinating to the untutored. When he shut off the engine and swung down, skimming the ground for a way and stopping gently, she was in waiting nearby. "I loathe this kind of exhibition work!" he declared. "It's silly stuff, but it's what the public wants. Sure you don't want to try a little straight flight?" he tempted. "N--o, Larry. Vice versa for mine, as the Irishman said." "All right. Here, Meder!" he said to the mechanic, who had come up. "Take care of the flier. I'll see you later at the hotel." "It was wonderful, Larry," said Pen as they were motoring to town. "I seem to see you from such a new angle now. I have always thought of you as a lovable, happy-go-lucky boy, but when I saw you take the air, I knew you had come to be something far different. You have the hawk-sense of balance, the sixth sense--the sense woman was supposed to have a monopoly of till the day of aeroplanes arrived. You had nerve to go up there and yet you were not nervous." "A fellow has to be without nerve and yet nervy," explained Larry. "If he loses his sense of equilibrium up there, it's all off; yet he has to be always ready to take a chance and to find one." "And, Larry--when you fly to the colors--" "To the tricolors," he interrupted. "It will bring out the biggest and bravest and best there is in you, Larry. I am so glad! Don't go out of my life again. Let me hear from you when you get over." "I was sore, Pen, when you handed me such a lecture, though it was coming to me all right. But it stuck, and the time came when I was grateful. When I found I could make good, I couldn't find you. I wrote every one of the crowd or went to see them, but you had mysteriously disappeared. Hebby said you must have been run in." "Was; but luck was with me again. I will give you an address that will always reach me." "I shall never go up, Pen, without thinking of you and to-day. But you have told me very little of yourself. Are you still--" "The thief? Not at present. I am enjoying an interlude; but there are times when virtue palls, but I mean to keep out of Hebler's clutches. Larry, I believe I will let you out here--on the edge of the town--the main street. I have a long ride before me. It's lonesome to say good-bye." "I expect to be in two or three days yet--waiting for some mail." "I wish I might see you again, Larry, but I don't know how I can manage it. If anyone knew I were in town to-day, it might lead to--developments. Send me your address at the port you are to sail from, and I'll have things there for you." "Good-bye, Pen. You're the best little scout I ever knew."