The dark blue eyes met the hard light ones bravely, though every vestige of colour had sunk out of the young face. Then back to lips and cheeks the banished colour came racing. Bawne flushed crimson, as von Herrnung held up a bright bit of gold, and sharply shook his head. "_Was_? Will you not take the sovereign?" von Herrnung demanded. "Are you a faint-heart after all?" The boy bit his lip and said, clenching his small fists desperately: "It’s against the rule for Scouts to take tips. So I don’t want the money. But I’m ready to come with you!" "Look here, old fellow!" Sherbrand was beginning anxiously. The boy stopped him with: "Really and truly I’m not funky—and you said I was to have another flight." "So I did, and so you shall," agreed Sherbrand. "But this won’t be just a ’bus trip around the aërodrome. It will be climbing and spiralling and hovering, and all the rest!" Bawne persisted: "You could strap me in. And I’m not afraid—really!" "And," von Herrnung interposed, "I shall not ascend higher than three thousand. Probably less will do for my purpose. The boy will be quite safe. Surely you are able to trust him with me?" Sherbrand hesitated, then said to Bawne in a relieved tone: "Well, there’s the Doctor talking to a tall lady in white with a hat that glitters. Run across to your father and ask him whether you may go?" "I’d rather you asked him—if you must—and let me stop here!" "_Gut! Sehr gut!_" Von Herrnung’s tautened nerves would have been relieved by some hard Prussian swearing. He jangled out a laugh instead. He caught hold of the boy under the armpits and lifted him high above his head. "What is your weight? Six stone? Come now, have I not guessed nearly!" He had not relinquished his grip on the leather satchel, and as it banged against his ribs, Bawne realised that it was quite light. "Papers inside!" he said to himself. Something quite hard was under the leather at the corners, perhaps the thinnest of metal plates. Its contact with the boy’s body seemed to sober von Herrnung’s exultation. He dropped Bawne unceremoniously, and straightened himself again. "How much petrol has been used?" he asked hastily of Davis, going over to the Bird and mounting on the landing-carriage to look at the gauges. "Because when I fly I never take risks. You will have to fill up the tank again. Do you hear, my fellow?" "If Mr. Sherbrand orders me," Davis spat out another piece of grass, "dessay I shall do it!" He eyed von Herrnung with surly disapproval as he craned over the Bird’s fuselage, while audibly commenting to an acquaintance who had strolled up: