There was a roar, a flash of fire far beneath, and Morey knew that he had made the first successful experiment with the aeroplane as a war machine; he had won “in the clouds for Uncle Sam.”
[CHAPTER XVIII]
SERGEANT MARSHALL OUTWITS MAJOR CAREY.
The maneuvers continued with daily flights. In a short time Morey was, by common consent, conceded to be the foremost in the work. He held the record for the most exact work in the handling of explosives and had flown the highest. Sergeant McLean made the longest continuous flight—the length of Long Island and return.
The promised promotion to a sergeancy came at the end of the first week of experimenting. In his new stripes the boy had visible proof that the “foolish boy” had really made progress in his effort to accomplish something. Then, one morning came a shock. He received a letter from his mother.
No sooner had Lieutenant Purcell left the Green Spring’s camp than Amos disappeared. As he was not a soldier, little attention was given his departure. Reaching Aspley Place after a footsore tramp, the black boy was received with open arms. Even his father, old Marsh Green, agreed to refrain from administering the “hiding” he had promised. As Amos related to Morey’s mother the wonders he had seen and the exploits of the yet missing white boy his imagination ran riot. Old Don Quixote never shone with the glamor of romance that the black boy created for Morey. Mrs. Marshall was in despair. And other things had now arisen that made her son’s absence doubly trying.
Amos had no idea where Morey had gone. But Mrs. Marshall’s letter of appeal to her son was forwarded to Green Springs in care of Lieutenant Purcell and from that place it was forwarded to the station at Arlington. When Morey read it he was in despair.
“My dear Morey,” it ran. “How can I say what your absence has been to me! Amos has told us all. I am heartbroken that you did not return with him. I thought you were in school at Washington. He tells me you are a soldier. Twice I have written to you in Washington and each time my letter has come back. You must come to me at once. Mr. Bradner has told me all. I cannot understand it, but he says we must give up our home; that Major Carey and Captain Barber are arranging to get for us a new home in the village. This cannot be necessary, but he says I must. It is something about money that your father owed. Now they say we can no longer live on Aspley Place. Major Carey has been to see me. He says it is true; that some one in Richmond insists on having money that I cannot pay. He has selected a little cottage where we must live—but I cannot write of it. Won’t you come home and help me?”
The glory of his success in the corps seemed very small to Morey then. When he thought over what had happened in the last few weeks he could only reproach himself with the thought that he had deserted his mother. He at once sought out Major Squiers. To him he told his story.