ake three or four hours to get ready for the rest of the
flight.

"What sort of a chap is that boy of yours?" asked Ernest.

"Pig-headed!" said the old lady, speaking for the first time.

"That is not a bad trait," said Ernest, smiling. "I mean can you trust
him?"

"Yes, you _kin_," said his mother. "Webby will do just what he says
every time and all the time."

"The woman's right," said the farmer. "I kin trust Web soon as I kin
myself."

"Sooner!" said his wife scornfully. "You are the forgittinest feller,
and Webby don't _never_ forget. If you want he should go an errant,
mister, he'll be back soon."

"Not exactly an errand," said Ernest, and no more would he say until he
saw the boy come galloping back to the field. He dismounted a long way
off, and came running.

"Your mother and father tell me you can keep your word, and be trusted,"
said Ernest. "I want you to stand guard over this machine. I don't want
you or anyone else to _touch_ it. I want you to keep everyone at least
ten feet away. If you will do this, I will either pay you or else take
you up for a little flight."

"Wait!" said the boy. He turned and went running back to his colt and,
mounting, dashed out of sight. In five minutes he returned bearing a
long out-of-date rifle.

"Go ahead and get something to eat," he said. "This ought to fix 'em!"

With a stick he drew a deep scratch in the green grass around the plane.
Then he looked with a smile across the field.

"Let 'em come!" he said. "This ought to fix 'em!"

Ernest looked. Mr. Paul Revere Webby had not ridden in vain. They were
coming. Coming in Fords, buggies and on horseback. Coming strong.

CHAPTER XIV

Ernest turned to the boy with the rifle who was standing guard over the
wonderful, strange thing that had alighted in his father's meadow, and
was satisfied. Cool, clear, honest blue eyes stared back and met his
gaze fairly.

"Don't you be feared," said the boy. "They won't come apast that
scratch. You kin trust me. Ma and Pa trusts me with the roan colt."

"The one you were riding?" asked Ernest.

"Naw, not that," the boy laughed. "You git on, less'n you want to answer
four million questions. You kin leave her with me. They won't come apast
that scratch, and I kin skeer 'em off with this. They know I kin shoot."

He patted the long, lean rifle lying along his arm, and Ernest knew that
in truth he could not leave the airplane in safer hands.

He followed Bill and