't hurry your credit slip," snapped Balfe, with his eyes on Welkie.

Welkie silently passed the papers back to Necker.

"You believe me now, Mr. Welkie?"

"I don't know's I doubted you, Mr. Necker. It caught me just a mite
below the belt, and I had to spar for wind."

"But it wasn't I who hit you below the belt, remember. Neither did I
want to destroy your illusions, but I did want to show you the
facts--the truth, not the glittering romance, of life. Now they're
offering you another job. Will you, or somebody else, get the credit for
that? You? No, sir! You'll get neither money nor reputation out of it.
With us you'd get both."

"Probably that's so." Welkie spoke slowly. "But people in general will
credit me with loyalty at least."

"Will they? Even where they know of your work, will they? When a man
turns down an offer like ours, people in general will give him credit
for little besides simple innocence. I'm telling you they'll be more
likely to think you are controlled by some queer primitive instinct
which will not allow you to properly value things. I'll leave it to your
friend. What do you say to that, Mr. Balfe?"

"I think you're a good deal right."

"There! Your own friend agrees with me!" exclaimed Necker.

"You don't think that, Andie?" Welkie, puzzled, stared at Balfe.

"What I mean, Greg, and what Mr. Necker very well understands me to
mean, is that surely there are hordes of people who never will believe
that any man did anything without a selfish motive."

"That don't seem right, Andie."

"No, it doesn't, but it's so, Greg. But"--he set his jaw at
Necker--"what if they do think so? Let them. Let them ride hogback
through the mud if they will. Oceans of other people, oceans, will still
be looking up to men like Greg Welkie here." He rested his hand on his
friend's shoulder. "You stick to your aeroplaning in the high air,
Greg."

"And chance a fall?" suggested Necker.

"And chance a fall!" snapped Balfe. "But there are no falls if the
machine is built right and the aviator forgets the applause."

Marie Welkie's hand reached out and pressed one of Balfe's. He held it.
"It's all right--he's a rock," he whispered.

"I must say, Welkie"--Necker fixed his eyes on the floor and spoke
slowly--"that the government in this case seems to be represented by a
man of picturesque speech, a man with imagination. I can only handle
facts, and in a matter-of-fact way. I ask you to consider this: you have
a