he was doing so well that he thought he would try rising a little
higher. When the levers responded with the ease of a bird's wings,
temptation became inspiration and inspiration urged on temptation. He
had gone mad with the ecstasy of his sensation, there between heaven and
earth. Five seconds of this was worth five thousand years of any other
form of life.

The summits of the range shot under him, unfolding a variegated rug of
landscape. He dipped the planes slightly, intending to follow the
range's descent and again they answered to his desire. He saw himself
the eyes of an army, the scout of the empyrean. If a body of troops were
to march along the pass road they would be as visible as a cloud in the
sky. Yes, here was revolution in detecting the enemy's plans! He had
become momentarily unconscious of the swiftness of his progress, thanks
to its hypnotic facility. He was in the danger which too active a brain
may bring to a critical and delicate mechanical task. The tower loomed
before him as suddenly as if it had been shot up out of the earth. He
must turn, and quickly, to avoid disaster; he must turn, or he would be
across the white posts in the enemy's country.

"Oh, glorious magic!" cried Marta.

"A dozen good shots could readily bring it down," remarked Westerling
critically. "It makes a steady target at that angle of approach. He's
going to turn--but take care, there!"

"Oh!" groaned Marta and Mrs. Galland together.

In an agony of suspense they saw the fragile creation of cloth and
bamboo and metal, which had seemed as secure as an albatross riding on