urch, like a cow playin' leap-frog, and over she
comes, still pointed our way.

"Hey, Major!" I calls out above the roar. "Can they see where they're
goin' in there? Hadn't we better give 'em room?"

"Don't move, please," says he.

"Just as you say," says I; "only I ain't strong for bein' rolled into
pie-crust."

"There's no danger," says he. "I merely wish you to see how---- There!
Look!"

And say, within twenty feet of us the blamed thing rears up on its
haunches, its ugly nose high as a house above us, and, while I'm still
holdin' my breath, it pivots on its tail and lumbers back, leavin' a
path that looks like it had been paved with Belgian blocks.

Course, that's only part of the performance. We watched it wallow into
deep ditches and out, splash through a brook, and mow down trees more'n
a foot thick. And all the time the crew were pokin' out wicked-lookin'
guns, big and little, that swung round and hunted us out like so many
murderous eyes.

"Cute little beast, ain't it?" says I. "You got it trained so it'll
almost do a waltz. If I was to pick my position, though, I think I'd
rather be on the inside lookin' out."

"Very well," says the Major. "You shall have a ride in it."

"Excuse me," says I. "I was only foolin'. Honest, Major, I ain't
yearnin'."

"Telegram for you," breaks in Barnes, the secretary.

"Oh!" says I, a bit gaspy, as I rips open the envelop.

It's the one I'd been espectin'. All it says is: "Come at once. VEE."
But I knew what that meant.

"Sorry, Major," says I, "but I'll have to pass up the rest of the show.
I--I'm called back."

"Ah! To headquarters?" says he.

"No," says I. "Home."

He shakes his head and frowns. "That is a word which no officer is
supposed to have in his vocabulary," says he.

"It's in mine, all right," says I. "But then, I'm not much of an army
officer, anyway. I'm mostly a camouflaged private sec. Besides, this
ain't any ordinary call. It's a domestic S. O. S. that I've been sort of
lookin' for."

"I understand," says he. "The--the first?"

I nods. Then I asks: "What's the quickest way across to Long Island?"

"There isn't any quick way," says he, "unless you have wings. You can't
even catch the branch line local that connects with the New York
express now. There'll be one down at 8:36 to-morrow morning, though."

"Wha-a-at!" says I, gawpin' at him. "How about gettin' a machine and
shootin' down to the junction?"

"My car is the only one here,"