as well on the
Sinkhole range. He passed the cabin by and headed straight for his secret
hangar, gloated and touched and patted and planned until the shadows
crept in so thick he could not see, and then remembered how hungry he
was. He returned to the cabin, turned his tired horse loose in the
pasture, with Sandy standing disconsolately beside the wire gate, his
haltered head drooping in the dusk and his mind visioning heat and sand
and sweaty saddle blankets for the morrow.

Dark had painted out the opal tints of the afterglow. The desert lay
quiet, empty, lonesome under the first stars. Johnny's eyes strained to
see the ridge that held close his treasure. He had a nervous fear that
something might happen to it in the night, and he fought a desire to take
his blankets and sleep over there in that niche. Tomaso's brother knew
where it was, and the Mexican who had driven the mules that hauled it
there. What if they tried to steal it, or something?

That night, before he went to bed, he saddled Sandy and rode over to make
sure that the airplane was still there. He carried a lantern because he
feared the moon would not shine in where it was. It was there, just as he
had placed it, but Johnny could not convince himself that it was safe. He
had an uneasy feeling that thieves were abroad that night, and he stayed
on guard for an hour or more before he finally consoled himself with the
remembrance of the difficulties to be surmounted before even the most
persistent of thieves could despoil him.

After that he rode back to the cabin and studied his blue prints and his
typed lessons, and made a tentative list of the materials for repairs,
and hunted diligently through certain magazine advertisements, hoping to
find some firm to which he might logically address the order.

Obstacles loomed large in the path of research. The Instructions for
Repairing an Airplane (Lesson XVII) were vague as to costs and quantities
and such details, and Johnny's judgment and experience were even more
vague than the instructions. He gnawed all the rubber off his pencil
before he hit upon the happy expedient of sending a check for all he
could afford to spend for repairs, explaining just what damage had been
wrought to his plane, and casting himself upon the experience, honesty
and mercy of the supply house. Remained only the problem of discovering
the name and address of the firm to be so trusted, but that took him far
past midnight.

He was ju