THE WHITE EAGLE.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 4, Issue 125, 24 December 1915, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE WHITE EAGLE.

An Aviator's Flight for Honour's I

y Philip Gibbs in the Weakly Scotsman.)

te snow, sir," said a small, it jerkined man who had ighteuing up the wires of tod biplane—it&l wings al--1 the walls of the wooden |p tramped to and fro on iw, blew on his lingers to krm, and whistled the lat- , | Ho came out from beichme. gave a quick glance ngleton, the airman, who jn.a wooden packing case igarette in a moody way, Hied tho door of tbje shed deep breath of the keen the Swiss plateau outside illevue. neni tit? mechanic looked of skaters skimming across , listened to the faint mu■chcstia in the hotel that tho very rag-time which lis brain all the morning, at the leaden sky, and e door again and eamo > shed. certain," he said. "I very far this morning, sir, nother glance at the air- ; still with his leather cap imoking his cigarette, and the loose straw at his feet it held some secret for ul was searching, le gave no audible answei inic, who had served him ?lity of a dog, and had rt him on many an advend and sea a shrug of the iwed that he had heard, n continued his speech ed his greasy hands on a

us you're looking tired, vonder. These 'ere winter ', what with dancing till in every morning, exhibirice a day; passenger trips L'tty ladies, ski-ing and toll all'n blue and skatin' I whenever the ole moon Mlicui ice-fields—it's bcPgtli of mortal man. In anion, leastways." Jlpton fluug his cigarette /, dug his heel on to the , and gave a short laugh, uite right, Mr Morahst foundly and unerringly ou forget I'm the funny harade of l'fe, and 1 have the orivileg* by making myself in mid-air, s : gning card* for pretty ladies jives out, helping to hang i decorations in this fash- , and generally making e to people who look upon acrobat to fly. or db, for anient. See?' jke jestingly to h ; s Cock- , who was his comrade i servant when the shed it. Hut the man knew oice well enough to hear of bitterness in it —unvoice of a man who had I he was found in a field ribs, who had shown no ion when he smashed his e just before he would the prize for the great lit, and who had earned the White Eagle by h : s ip across the Pyrenees, almost frozen to death — smile on his lips. ih, being a Cockney with nee of human nature in be City Road, wondered tretty ladies in the Hotel the cause of the mood : - nad observed in the keen the White Eagle during days. There was that ittle beauty, Lady Inchd gone for three flights >, it could hardly be that ijd spoken stern words to diad smoked a cigarette mf his petrol tank. Then K dark-eyed Irish girl—ittfvyn Mr Ingleton had 5r evwry day. They liad together over the snowd tied one of her gloves e as a kind of mascot. een them ond evening, silent, in the shed, starMet glow, which seemed istant snow peaks with a It looked suspicious! But ufljeurs had told him the pd to a nrin named LoriLorimer, who won the in the ski race. Yet, he i sharp 'tap at the door Hallam Ingfctnn hoard ) and spoke irritably. German woman, tell her ly first flight this morngot writer's cramp by s post cards." not "that German woSmith opened the door was the dark<\vcd Irish erven —whose glove was of the struts. Her face doom, and there waw a h> in her dark eyes as she breathlessly. Eton here? Can 1 speak :ed his first flight this 1 Alf Smith, and bo was in to the subject of pics when Hallam Ingleton the shed and thrust him rning. Miss Mervvn! red after the dance last lines* bad vanished, and is cheery way. but with p in his voice than was manner t<> women, with n« sometimes a little iting their hero-worship. t her hand to him. and ;d it she spoke again, in tmsv way. *

Ato you—lf I may -

Hallam Ingleton turned to the mechanic. "Go and rout out the other men, Smith. You can come back in ten minutes, and take the machine out." For a moment or two Ingleton and Pearl Mervyn stood silent while Smith made a leisurely exit and banged the the door after him. Then the airman stooped to the upturned packing case and dusted it with a corner of his leather coat.

"Won't you sit down! It's the best chair I can offer you." It was queer that the man who had won the name of the White Eagle by his flight across the Pyrenees should be shy of an Irish girl who had come to his shod on Christmas Eye after a dance, in which he had told her some of his adventures and had been glad of her words of praise. But now he hardly looked at her—as though afraid of her beauty, and of this meeting in the shed.

She sat down on the packing case, careless of any dirt that might stain the white fur coat in which she was warmly wrapped. "Mr Ingleton," she said, "I want your—help." At that word, which seemed lili9 a call to him, the man raised his head. "I'd be proud. In any way. Tell me." She lifted her hands, and then let them fall upon her lap in a frightened way. has happened. It's about Mr Lor> "I'm afraid something—dreadful—tncr." "Lorimer?"

His face hardened slightly. Lorimer was the man with all the luck. He was the man who had spilt an airman's chance of earning the greatest prize of l'fe. When the spiing came he would be married to this girl, for whom Hallam Ingleton would have given all his fame.

"We had a quarrt?! last night," said Pearl Mervyn. "Both of us said foolish tiling." She dropped her head a little, and her face flushed as though with shame at making this confession to a man whom she had only known for three weeks.

"A lover's quarrel! Poor Lorimer! But is that so very dreadful?'' .

"No, it's not that. Not all of it— Frank ban gone away." "Gonenway? Where?" Ingleton was startled. That Lorimer bad gone away was riot a tragedy to him. It might be his own chance of luck. Then, as quickly as the thought cam's into his head, he hated himself tor the meanness of it. Pearl Mervyn had d stress in her eyes, because her lover had gone away.

She seemed unconscious of her tears, and did not win? them away before she spoke again. "To Konigsberg, on the other side ol the plateau. At least, he told his man to send on his luggage there. ... He went out in his car at six o'clock this morning, and " Her voice faltered, and she twined as if she had lost her courage. "Well?" asked Ingleton. Pearl Mervyn's grief for Lorimer's absence hurt him, and crushed the secret hope which had stolen into his brain. But he asked his question gently. "And Mrs Prinsep—your sisterwent with him," said the girl. Ingleton stared at her as though he could not believe her words.

"My sister—Eileen—has gone with him?"

He stared across to the blank wall of the shed and thought back hard and quickly of the things that had been happening during these three weeks, and before. His sister had pleaded with him to take her to the winter sports. That was when she knew I<orimer was to be there, at the Hotel Bellevue. Dr Prinsep had urged him also. His wife, he said, had been "run down" lately, was out of sorts, a little hysterical. It would do her a world of good, and he would join them on Christmas Day, as soon. as he had finished his hospital work. . . . But Eileen had not seemed "out of sorts" at the Bellevue. She had gone skiing with liorimer, had come back with colour in her cheeks, and a queer light in her eyes. She had been a good deal with Lorimer. and Ingleton had thought it kind of the man to give so much of his time to Eileen—good heavens! Ingleton's gaze came back from the blank wall to Pearl Mervyn's face, and he spoke sharply: "Do you mean—?"' She nodded, and then dropped her head a little, while a flame of colour came into her cheeks. "Mrs Prinsep is—very fond—of Frank. They have been like boy and girl together. It was because of that Ingleton guessed the end of her sentence though it did not reach her lips. Ii was because Frank Lorimer had left this girl for Eileen that there had been a quarrel last night. She had been des'orted by her lover. Ho was filled* with a. sense of pity, for the girl who was so humiliated. But a more horrible aspect of the case dawned upon him quite suddenly with a newshock of surprise. He bad only just "rop\nl his wav to the significance jf it.

Lorimer had run away with Eileen! With that pretty, foobsh, little sister or his. She was always getting into scrapes because of her love of flattery and spirit of adventure. But this was more than a scrape, something more daml'irous than .in indiscreet adventure. It would mean lifelong disgrace, the loss of her honour as a marred woman.

Ingleton thrust his hand into Ins pocket and pulled out n crumpled piece of paper. "Good Lord!" he said: "Dr Prinsep will he here in another hour or two— I had this latter from him th ; s morning*'

He unfolded the paper and read out the words on it. "Shall be at the Bellevue by two o'clock on Thursday, eager for a merry Christmas on the snowfields. Take care of Eileen till I come. I've been miserable without her."

Pearl Mervyn rose from her seat on the packing case and put her hand on Ingieton's arm. "There's 110 time to lose if we are going to do anything—we must get Eileen back before her husband comes.

"Get her back," said Ingleton. "If she's sit Konigsberg with that scoundrel Lorimer " , "We mustn't think of vengeance, ' she said, "we must only think of your sister s honour and of her husband's happiness. I think if I pleaded with Frank, and if you spoke to Mrs Prinsep " . Her hands went up to her throat, and she spoke in a lower voice. "I think it's just a passing madness with both of them. There's something in the air, in this life here on the snowfields, which puts that kind of folly into one's heart."

"Yes," said Ingleton. "Up here men and women g9t back to primitive passions. It' 6 nature that sneaks." This man, whose sister's honour was in jeopardy, this girl, who had lost her lover, were not looking at each other, though they were acutely conscious of each other's presence. Then Ingleton gave a kind of groan, remembering the unchristian tragedy which nature was weaving upon this Christmas Eve.

"My little sister! . . . And Prinsep, who worships the ground on which she treads! It will smash him if he comes here and finds her gone. ... It mustn't happen! Good God! It must not happen." He glanced at the watch strapped round his wrist.

"there's no train to Konigsberg, but I could fly there, and bring back by the hair or the heels. I could be here again, with luck, before the doctor comes. How's that for an idea?"

The thought of immediate action seemed to cheer him a little. After all in action, in swift flight, in the control of an engine, he knew his own power.

"it's the only way," said Pearl Mervyn. And then she laughed, rather hopelessly, and said "But " "But what?" "But one can't bring a wife back to her husband by the hair or the heels. One must bring her back by the heart, and that's more difficult. It needs a persuasive tongue, perhaps a woman s tongue—l think 1 might be useful to you there." "You? You would come with mer"

Ho iwas startled at this now idea, but it seemed to please him. To fly with Pearl Mervyn across the snow fields —- "Yes, if you would lot me—l could appeal to them both. I could remind 1 Frank of his pledge to me, of his honour —I still wear his ring," Site rawed her hand, as she spoke these words; and there wat> the glint of the ling on nor linger. Ingleton spoke harshly. That glint of metal stabbed him. "You would plead with Inn to fulfil his pledge to you? after his— -trench ery':'' " Kor your sister'o sake,'' said Pearl Mervyn in a low voice. Then, she touched him on the arm again. "We must be quick if we're going. Remember Dr. I'riusep gets here by two o'clock.' 1 "My Lord, yes!" said Ingleton. Ho strode to the door of the shed, and opened it wide, with a snout for Smith, h's mechanic. The man was tramping towards the shed with throe other assistant-, and started to run when be beard his master's shout. "Get her out quick," said Ingleton. "I'm in a hurry to start. Is everything fixed' up?" "I don't leave a job 'arf done!" sdiid the outspoken Smith. "Now. my lads, get a move on, can't ycr?"

In a few minutes the biplane was being wheeled by four men across the field outside the hotel, and, as usir.i, there was a clapping of hands from tho small groups in the ice and the snow. Before twisting the propoller io.ml Smith called itp- to his master. "Don't fly far, 6ir, there's snow about."

"Let her go, man!" 6aid Ingleton. The propeller whirled round, and Ingleton put his hand on the clutch and raced across the smooth snow. As the wheels cleared the ground he heard tho faint cheers of the people behind, not one of whom had guessed that this was more than an exhibition of flight —that it was a desperate race for a woman's honour. Then he rose steadily in a long, swift, forward flight, into the intense silence of the Alpine air through which his little Gnome engine went singing with a steady, beating heart. Ingleton was conscious of the woman's presence behind him. She was leaning forward, and he could feel her warm breath on the nape of his neck. Presently, as lus engine warmed to its work and gathered speed, she put her hands on his shoulders with a tight grip as though alarmed at the terrific rush through the air. He turned his hcadi for a moment, so that ho almost touched her cheek with his. "Courage!" he said. The word was blown off his lips and lost in the great void, but she seemed to guess what he had said and smiled back at him. He had no need to say "Courage!" There was a shining look in the girl's eyes, as though her spirit exalted in the ecstasy of her first flight. * * * * Ingleton turned again to his work, but though his ears listened to each beat of his engine—it was running smoothly—and though he felt each variation of wind pressure on the planes, with the sensitive knowledge of an airpilot, who knew his business, his mind was stirred by the strange drama of this flight, :-.nd with its significance to his own soul. Only Inst night he had <rone for a dream flight with Pearl Mervyn. He had dreamed that he han flown with her into the eternity of space, across a cold white world. unt ; !

ho watf frozen to death. His machine had dropped to the earth with a frightful trash, and he lay there dead, but conscious. Pearl Mervyn had stooped over him and kissed him on the forehead, and the warmth of her love had brought him to life again. Queer: Part of the dream seemed to have come true. He was flying with her now, into tho eternity of space, across a cold, white world, and tho warmth of her breath touched him and made his heart glow as though it were on lire. It was a* though they two were disembodied sprite, in the utter loneliness; of the eternal solitude. Then he gave a little groan, the sound of which was borne away by the rushing wind, for bv a dreadful irony this was not the joy-ride of his dream, but he was flying to' fetch back the girl's lover, and t<. save his own sister from dishonour.

He was flying over .Swiss' hamlets, in the valleys'between the lower ranges of the Alps. The spirit of Christmas was playing faint, mystical music down below. The sound of cliurch bells ringing with silver chimes came up sottly through the cold, still air.

But what were those white feathers fluttering about his face with a soft and icv touch? . . . snow flakes! . . .

The leaden sky through which the sun had shot a few golden arrows giving a bright, irlamoious light to the snow fields below, had suddenly darkened, | aiii!> those lirst tiny snow flakes curling upon the airman's breast before they died, fluttering about his face, and nestling like white butterflies upon his planes, were but swift heralds of sudden legions of snow-birds which came riving down from the invisible heights. In less than a minute Ingleton's leather ' jacket was like an ermine cloak. His

brown gloves had been changed into *hite fur. His aeroplane was truly a White Eagle slwooping through a myriad fluttering feathers.

Ingleton leaned forward, blinking his eyelashes, which were wet with melting snow. He could see nothing ahead of him or behind him, or around him, but the eddying clouds of snowflakes whicn had obliterated all landmarks, and put a cloak of invisibility over the earthworld, l'or the hist time in Hallam Ingleton's career as an air-pilot fear got hold of him by trie throat. He was not afraid for his own sake. He had seen uwath very close aim it Had no terrors tor him. Uut Jfearl's hands were on ins shoulders —her thin wnite bauds —and her tace was close to him—her beautiiul face, with its trusting eyes. The tuo light that this girl s gracious body should be smashed upon tiie hard earth, a thousand feet beiow tins veil of snow, sent a thrill of panic to the heart of a man that tiil then had never faltered. What a fool he had been —what a criminal fool! —not to remember the danger in the sky. Smith had warned him. He had smelt the snow

Ingleton could feel the weight upon his planes, with a soft but increasing pressure. His Gnome engine was spitting angrily. It was beginning to mistire as the snow melted and trickled m. to the valves. The biplane gave a sudden lurch, as Ingleton banked a little, and a heavy weight of snow was l pitched off one of the planes. He was not afraid of that. Instinctively he righted himself, flinging his own weight to the other side and raising hig.elevatiug plane. But it was the engine that began to trouble him. Curse the thing! It was begininng to play the fool. Ho could hear the jerky beat of it . . .

What should he do ? It was useless to go back. He must be near Konigsberg. If only he could sfce the ground beneath him. He might volplane down to a soft landing place. But he had lost the sense of height and direction. It was Tke flying in a world of cotton wool. Anyhow, he must drop, and take the chance. This engine of his was gurgling and gasping like a drunken thing. A voice spoke over his shoulder. " I'm not afraid."

He heard her voice as though she

called to him from a far distance. Pearl Mervyn had guessed his fears'. J)id she know that they had no more than a forlorn hope of lifer' Had she guessed that death might clasp her in its arms with an iron embrace? lie turned his head' so that through the snow he saw her bright eyes, and the smde about her lips. "Oh, my dear!" said Ingletou. She could not hear him, but in that glance through the veil of snow they spoke to each other, and their souls greeted each other with a cry of "Courage!'' * * * * Ingletou cut off, and began a steep volplane. It was queer that he had no sense of fear then, and that though all his senses were alert he seemed to be in his last night's dream again. Then lie had been frozen to death until Feail had kissed him back to life Tho biplane dropped and dropped, and the snow fairies Hew with a fluttering and whispering about the planes. How dose were they to the earth? Or howfar? Ingletou was reckoning it out, with a cool head, with p'er: ug eyes, though with a sinking despair in l)>> heart. He could sec nothing, absolute. Iv nothing. Tile white earth, the white snow there was no beginning and no end in this world of whiteness. Tn n few seconds the man siiv hack through all iiis life, lu the moment which wa<i I hurling him to almost certain death, with Pearl .Mervyn. . Then he gave a great cry. and thrust his full weight into the jerk of his wrist which flung hack the lever of his elevator. But it was too late. He .ould not nav c the crash when at last

the snow-clad earth reached up to him. The biplane turned a complete somersault, and Hailani Ingleton, the White iiagle, lay very still on a bank ol snow, wan tne wret-Kage 01 his 1 machme upon Ins legs, and with Pearl Mervyn flung across Ins body, so that her lace was on Ins lace, as though in the last embrace of death. Bui the girl was not hurt, beyond a few minutes of unconsciousness. She seemed to wake out of a dream, and dragging herself off the man's body knelt beside him and laid her face down on h:s breast, as though to listen for the beating of his heart. Then she raised her head and gave a little whimpering cry, like some beautiful animal over the dead body of its mate. But Hailain Ingleton was not dead. As though the sound of that cry had pierced through the deafness of death itself he opened his eyes, and then with a faint groan. Pearl Mervyn gave another cry, out this 1 t>me it was of gladness. She sprang to her feet and with more than a woman's strength dragged away the wreckage of broken struts and torn canvas and broken wire from Inglet >n's limbs. But not even the strength of her love could lift the Gnome engme from the left leg of a man who had listened to its heart-beats, and knew all its moods and tempers. Presently Ingleton spoke, though his voice sounded like a groan when he called out: — " Oh, my dear!" She bent over him again, and he Smiled at her, with a queer, twisted mile, because of his pain. "Hard luck:" he said, "on your first flight!" "Are you in pain?" she asked, not noticing that her tears were falling on his face. He smiled again, and tried to stifle a groan before ho answered her. "Don't bother about me—l'm pinned down. You mustn't stay here—try to get shelter somewhere." "I'm staying with you," said the girl. "I can't leave you like this." She stared away into the white swirl of snow, and shivered. "Courage!" said the man. "You ' must find help—somehow—we're close to Konigsberg."

The girl repeated his first word—"Courage! Courage!" as though to stitie the cowardice which was creeping up to her throat because the mans voice was getting weaker, and he had a dreadful spasm of pain, as thou'rn death were at grips with him. But he spoke to her again, though she had to stoop to hear Ins wide. "before you go—tell me—why did von quarrel'with. Lorimer hist night.' . " ... I'd like to know—in case 1 peg

Even then M ith the coldness of the suowflakes oil her face she blusned deeply. But she answered quickly. "He thought 1 had fallen in love with you —my dear." "And it was true?'' ... , "It. was true," said the girl, ' L'Jt 1 didn't know it—until now/'

"I'm glad," said lnglcton. She was '.reeling at his sflde Jgaißj in the soi'tf snow, shielding his iaee from the I'alhng Hakes with her outstie'died aouds "I'm cold," said liigleton. "Kiss me, dear heart.'' # * * *

She put her face down and kissed lnni on the lips with such a passion of love that it seemed to give a warmth to hi* whole being, and a faint glow came into his face. He shut his eyes and his Up* murmured some words nhich came to Pearl Menyn like a faint whisper. '■lt's my dream!" . Then hi" seemed tfi sink into the deeps i'f unconsciousness and la.y there, rigidlv, like n dead man. The g ; rl called to hini again and ' " Hallatn ! Hallatn ! Sweetheart! don't you hear me."

But no word of hers reached his conseriousness, and presently she stood up, wringing her hands. " Oh, God," she cried. " What can \ do?" She started running across the sno\ field through the blinding snow, faltering, stumbling, and tailing to her knees, and as she Fan she cried out iff a high voice, which wailed across thf fields like the cry of a banshee. Then suddenly she stood still and lis tened intently. 'There was an answering shout. She called again, and as though qiute close to her a man's voice answered her. " Where are you ?—what's the matter?" A shadow loomed out of the whiteness —it was running, stumbling like she was stumbling, over the hummocks of snow. "Help!" she cried again. A man stood in front of her, peering into her face. Then he clutched her by the arm, and spoke in a voice of amazement. "Pearl! you here? What on earth " It was Frank Lorimer, who had been her lover, whose ring she wore on 1 er finger. At the bight of him all the gill's emotion broke through the barriers of her self-contrl. She burst into tears, and spoke in a passion of grief, and indignation, and despair. "iiauaui is uymg: Because ot oi you auu uiieea —juu uie lua 1 iiiur. uerers —on, cuiue qu.cmy, ior uear UOU S «IKUI riaiiK i.,onmei' stood stock still. ' nnat uo you mean I' nis murder orsf luieen and it" no came to letch Eileen Dtio:«J uer uusoauu cau'e ouck. uu, JiraUK &ue scizeu mm oy ine aim, &> uiougu io urag mm to wuete tu< uouuued man i«*y. ne waikeu swan, with nui, out spoue jeiKiiy as ne turusi forward, turougii the unv.ug snow. 'uood Jjoiui i leit tue neiu free for you and inglclou —as ior JMieeu sut came wiin me io meet her husband —al ivonigsocrg. sue nad a wire trom bin —tue trains are neid up by the 6now — along me nne. ihey re together now in tne hotel." Pearl Mervyn drew a deep breath. •but, Prank, 1 thougut—you told me " " We had our moment of madness," said Lorimer. "But we played the game. Prinsep had her heart. 1 could see that—so I'm the odd man out, that's all!"

He stooped over the body of Uallaiu iugleton. *Uod torsive me!" lie said. Lorimer was u man whose muscles had been hardened on many a tield ot upon, aud lie made short work with the Gnome engine. He tossed :t on one side an though it had been a snowball, as it looKea with its white covering. Then lie stooped and lifted up the body ot the White Eagle from its shroud of snow.

lngleton groaned, and Pearl Mervyn cried out, "Gently, Frank, gently!" But though Lorimer was strong, he had a great tenderness in his strength, ns he carried the man who had flown to save the honour of a woman with whom Lorimer had had his " moment of madness" —before deciding to play the game. Eileen Prinsep gave a cry of horror when she Saw her brother carried into the hotel, but Lorimer silenced her by a stern glance. " I don't think he's much hurt. A broken leg, I should say. It's a job for your husband, Mrs. Prinsep. Thank heaven we found him at Konigsberg." He spoke the last words with a hidden meaning in them, and the straight look in hisJ eyes gave them their significance. "Yes," bdie said. "Thank heaven!" Attcr ;ut, tiaiiani Jngieton hau not gone ou ins iasi nigut. ur. frinsep set me broken iimo, clapped the niau ou mo suoiuucr alter tue operation, and buiu, "lou'H bave to spend Christinas m ocd, old man, but it miglit have been rtvorse. \\ liat on earth made you iisk such a thing, with so much enow about '?" " It was a joy-ride," said llallam luaicton. # * * * There was a great reception for th« wounded \\li:te Eagle at the Hotel Bellevue when he was brought back in Lonmer'a car, and on Christmas morning there .were many little presents heaped on his bed that had been sent up to his room by all his friends. He lay there smiling and watehmg his Bistei L'deen and her husband, who were sitting hand in hand by the side of the fireplace, where a bright tire burned. Lorimer had whispered a few words to him which had 6et his mind at rest about hia sister's honour, and had given him a new hope about his own share of Juck. Eileen and her husband left the* room quietly wiitn Pearl Mervyn came in with drooping eyes and a warm blush on her face. Perhaps they, too, had heard some whispered words from Lorimer, who jras " the odd man out" in this game of love. lngleton raised himself in his bed, and stretched out his hands. " Can you forgive a man who nearly killed you?" lie asked. She took hu hands and put them against her heart, and spoke in a tremulous voice. "Yesterday, when you lay in ths snow, I thought you were dead'.—my heart seemed to die, too." He put his hands up to her head and drew her fi'.ce down, until she kissed him on the lips. When he lay back on the pillow again there was a shining light in his eves. "You kissed me back to life," he said.