"I explained the exceedingly awkward position in which it placed me; and he instructed me very peremptorily on no account to deliver No. 14 to you, even in face of the army order. Of course I was at a loss, so I asked him to speak to you on the telephone."
"I'd better do that," I replied readily. "There'll be the devil to pay if I don't turn up with it and the Colonel's told I was too drunk to go up. Schiller must be mad; stark, staring mad. He'll get me cashiered."
"He's holding the line, if you will come to my office."
It was the deuce of a crisis, and how to get over it worried me. But as we neared the office a thought struck me. "Look here, Harden, this must be met somehow. I'll get Schiller to run over here at once and we must be ready with proofs that I'm as sober as a judge and perfectly fit to take up No. 14. I understand your position entirely and don't mean you to be compromised in any way. I won't ask you to deliver No. 14; but I shall be personally obliged if you'll have the petrol tank of one of those planes out there filled, or any other you like, of course, and I'll show him whether I'm fit to take No. 14 up. Your evidence, too, may save me from absolute shipwreck."
"I'll do it with pleasure;" and he turned back to give the orders to the mechanics, while I went to the telephone in his office.
"Hullo!" I called.
"That you, Harden?" came the reply in an excited tone.
"Yes." I was likely to get more information as Harden, and tried to imitate his voice.
"I didn't recognize your voice for the moment. You haven't parted with No. 14, I hope?"
"No. Lieutenant Vibach's coming to speak to you."