Manitou (yelping)—­’Houp—­gloup—­houp!’

I.—­’Suppose you were a Hun eagle, Manitou—­just a vulgar Boche buzzard?’

Manitou (hanging his head)—­’Houp—­gloup—­houp!’

I.-’But you’re not!  You’re a Yankee eagle!  Now give three cheers for
Uncle Sam!’

Manitou (head erect)—­’Houp—­gloup—­houp!’

Sir D. convulsed.  Ordered a trench-rat for Manitou as usual.  While he was discussing it I told Sir D. H. how I could always send Manitou home merely by attaching to his ankle a big whistling-bell of silver.

Explained that Manitou hated it and that I had taught him to fly home when I attached it by arranging that nobody except my wife should ever relieve him of the bell.

It took about two years to teach him where to go for relief.

Sir D, much amused—­reluctant to leave.  Wrote to Connie later.  Bed.

13th inst.: 

Summoned by Sir D. H. Conference.  Most interesting.  Packed up.  Of at 5 P. M., taking my eagle, Manitou.  Wrote Constance.

14th inst.: 

Paris.  Yankees everywhere.  Very ft.  Have noticed no brag so far. 
Wrote Constance.

20th inst.: 

Paris.  Yanks, Yanks, Yanks.  And ‘thanks’ rimes.  I said so to one of ’em.  ‘No,’ said he, ‘Tanks’ is the proper rime—­British Tanks!’ Neat and modest.  Wrote Connie.

21st inst.: 

Manitou and I are off.  Most interesting quest I ever engaged in. 
Wrote to my wife.

Delle.  Manitou and I both very fit.  Machine in waiting.  Took the air for a look about.  Manitou left me a mile up.  Evidently likes the Alps.  Soared over Mount Terrible whither I dared not venture—­yet!  Saw no Huns.  Back by sundown.  Manitou dropped in to dinner—­like a thunderbolt from the zenith.  Astonishment of Blue Devils on guard.  Much curiosity.  Manitou a hero.  All see in him an omen of American victory.  Wrote Connie.

30th inst.: 

Shall try ‘it’ very soon now.

If it’s true—­God help the Swiss!  If not—­profound apologies I suppose.  Anyway its got to be cleared up.  Manitou enamoured of mountains.  Poor devil, it’s in his blood I suppose.  Takes the air, now, quite independent of me, but I fancy he gets uneasy if I delay, for he comes and circles over the hangar until my machine takes the air.  And if it doesn’t he comes down to find out why, mad and yelping at me like an irritated goblin.

I saw an Alpine butterfly to-day—­one of those Parnassians all white with wings veined a greenish black.  Couldn’t catch him.  Wrote to Connie.  Bed.

31st inst.: 

In an hour.  All ready.  It’s hard to believe that the Hun has so terrorised the Swiss Government as to force it into such an outrageous concession.  Nous verrons.

A perfect day.  Everything arranged.  Calm and confident.  Think much of Constance but no nerves.  Early this morning Manitou, who had been persistently hulking at my heels and squealing invitations to take wing with him, became impatient and went up.