“A sounder, that’s it, instead of a sounder. We tried it here the other day, and could talk to him over in the Tract building as well as if we’d been connected with the central office. He’s perfecting it now for long distance, and we might take him right along with us, and let him experiment between the balloon and the ship. How’s that?” “It would complete our plans perfectly,” I agreed, “if his system of communication prove successful. But do you think he would care to go on such a voyage?” Gale looked at his daughter. “Do you think he would go, Johnnie?” he asked, and I thought there was a suggestion of teasing in his voice. Also, it seemed to me that there was a little wave of confusion in Miss Gale’s face, though the slight added color there may have been due to other causes. “I—why, I think he might——” she began hesitatingly. “I think he would consider it an opportunity. He is deeply interested in what he calls chorded vibrations. Wireless telegraphy, or telephoning, is like that, you know, but Mr. Ferratoni goes much farther. He attributes everything to vibrations. He analyzes my poor little hobby until there’s nothing left of it. He may be here to luncheon to-day, and you can talk with him,” she added, and I thought the blush deepened. Assuredly he would come to luncheon, and of a certainty he would go to the South Pole, or anywhere that Edith Gale went, and would let him go. It was too late now, however, for me to raise objections. My only comfort lay in the memory of her father’s assurance that it was in their talents, and not in her protégés themselves, that his daughter was interested. Still, I argued miserably, there must some day come a time—I was sure she had blushed—— A cabin boy entered bearing a tray on which there was a card. He presented it to Miss Gale. “Mr. Ferratoni,” she said, glancing at it, and an instant later I saw in the doorway a slender figure, surmounted by a beautiful beardless face—the face of southern Italy—of a poet. My heart sank, but I greeted him cordially, for I could not withstand the beauty of his face and the magnetism of his glance. It seemed to me that it was a foregone conclusion, so far as Miss Gale was concerned, and then I suddenly realized that the South Pole without Edith Gale would not be worth looking for. Even a whole warm Antarctic continent would be a desolation more bleak than people had ever believed it. Yet I would find it for her if I could—and then my reward—she had said I should name it—it had been but a jest, of course—— I realized that Miss Gale was speaking. “We were just talking of you, Mr. Ferratoni. We have a plan which we think will interest you. Mr. Chase will talk to us about it during luncheon.” VI. WHERE ALL THINGS BECOME POSSIBLE.