up and crawled under a wing where the
heat was not quite so unendurable, and tried to think of something he
had not done but which he might do to correct the motor trouble. No
Indians having been sighted since their second landing, he could push
his fear of them into the back of his mind until a dark face peered out
at him again.

Miles away to the west men were sweating while they rode, searching for
this very airplane that sat so placidly in the midst of an Indian corn
field. Farther away the news went humming along the wires, of a young
aviator lost with his airplane on the desert. The fame of that young
aviator was growing apace while he lay there, casually wishing there
was a telephone handy so he could call up Mary V and tell her he had a
plan which might make him big money without his having to sell his
plane.

Not once did it occur to him that any one would be especially concerned
over his absence. Not once did he look upon this mishap as anything
more serious than an unpleasant incident in the life of a flyer. He
went to sleep, lying there under a wing of his plane, and presently
Bland himself drifted off into dreams that would have been much less
agreeable had he known that a full two dozen Indians had crawled into
the willows and were peering timorously out at them.

It was past noon when Bland awoke. Johnny was still sound asleep,
snoring a little now and then. Bland grumbled more profanity, sent a
questing glance toward the willows and saw nothing to alarm him,
crawled out into the searing sunlight and tried to work. But the motor
was so hot he could not touch it anywhere. His pliers and wrenches
were too hot to hold, and his face felt scorched where the sun fell
upon it. So Bland crawled back again and cursed the land that knew
such heat, and himself for being in it, and presently slept again.

Hunger woke Johnny at last, and he straight-way woke Bland, politely
intimating that it was about time he got busy and did something.
Johnny did not propose to settle down for life in that neighborhood, he
pointed out. There must be something they could do, if the darned
engine wasn't broken anywhere.

Bland, too miserable to argue, sat up and pushed greasy fingers through
his lank hair. Having remained alive and unharmed for so long in that
neighborhood, his faith in Johnny's knowledge of Indians waxed
stronger. He began to think less of his danger and more about the
motor.

The thing mystifie