The Chief’s name at the end was the nail that clinched the thing. But the cry of Macrombie’s undersized assistant was the hammer-blow that drove the nail to the quick. His sharp eye, following the climbing aëroplane, had seen her flatten and swing about and leap forwards, exactly as the carrier-pigeon strikes out its line of flight for home. "My Gawd," he yelped out. "See there! Blimy, if the —’s not done us! Bunked it by air to Kaiserland while I was spellin’ out the screed. Gone with the Bird—the Bird and the ’overing gear. My Gawd! Wot’s to be done?" "Shut your head on what you know!" said Sherbrand’s voice in the pale clerk’s ear as Sherbrand’s hand fell ungently on his shoulder. "You’ve done your best! It’s not your fault if luck was on the other side! But—" His eyes went to the Doctor’s great figure standing beside the tall white shape with the hat of twinkling silver. "But the boy!" A sickness swirled up in him and a dizziness overtopped it. He caught at and gripped the clerk’s thin shoulder to keep himself upright. "My God! How shall I break it to the Doctor," Sherbrand asked himself, "if that German fellow has carried off the boy?" "Steady-O! Ketch on to me, sir.... Nobody’s looking!" said the telegraph clerk. He was a hero-worshipper on a robust scale and Sherbrand his chosen deity. "This ain’t our young Boss givin’ in, but just his empty inside playin’ tricks on him," he assured himself. To Sherbrand he said humbly: "If you’d come over to the cabin there’s hot cocoa and toke there. Grub’ll steady you, if you’ll excuse me taking the liberty of saying so—and you can’t do nothing till he comes!" The person to whom Burgin referred had passed the entrance-gates, almost before the sentence left the lips of the clerk. Now his alert, upright figure came in sight, briskly turning the corner of the restaurant, and wrought to the point of ironic merriment by the greatness of the blow that had fallen on him, Sherbrand shook off his dizziness and faintness, straightened his tall body, clapped both hands to his mouth, and gave the huntsman’s view-halloo: "_Stole away! Stole—awa-aay!_" Small cause for mirth, and yet he laughed, pointing to the dwindling speck high upon the north horizon that represented the worldly prospects of Sherbrand, and a handsome sum in cash. The Bird, just then entering a broad belt of gold-white mackerel-cloud, was lost to view in another instant. But the Chief had wheeled upon the pointing gesture, and seen, and understood. Then he was upon them, saying in accents jarred with anger: "How was this allowed to happen? You were warned. You had my wire?" Sherbrand’s mouth was wrung awry with another spasm of mirthless laughter. He fought it back and held out the crumpled slip of paper, saying: "I did, but luck was on _his_ side. Thanks to a relapse on Macrombie’s part, I got this after the Bird had flown." "The Bird..."