ad taken for
granted he possessed.

"Say! On the square, did you ever get any farther away from the ground
than an elevator could take you?" he asked bluntly, when he was finishing
his coffee after a heavy silence.

"Ten thousand feet--well, once I went twelve, but I didn't stay up. There
was a heavy cross-current up there, and I didn't stay. Why?"

Johnny looked him over with round, unfriendly eyes. "I was just
wondering," he said. "You seem so scared about getting on the back of a
horse--"

"You ain't doing me justice," the aviator protested. "Every fellow to his
own game. I never was on a horse's back before, and I'll say I hope I
never get on one again. But that ain't saying I can't fly, because I can,
and I'll prove it if you lead me to something I can fly with."

"I'll lead you--right now. You can ride that far, can't you?"

Bland Halliday thought he would prefer to walk, which he did, slowly and
with much groaning complaint. Earth and sky were wonderful with the blush
of sunrise, but he never gave the miracle a thought.

Nor did Johnny, for that matter. Johnny was leading Sandy, packed with
the repair stuff and a makeshift camp outfit for the aviator. He had
decided, during breakfast, to put Bland Halliday in the niche with the
airplane, and leave him there. He had three very good reasons for doing
that, and ridding himself of Bland's incessant whining was not the
smallest, though the necessity of keeping Bland's presence a secret from
the Rolling R loomed rather large, as did Johnny's desire to have some
one always with the plane. He had no fear that Halliday would do anything
but his level best at the repairing. He also reasoned that he would prove
a faithful, if none too courageous watchdog. That airplane was Bland's
one hope of escape from the country, since riding horseback was so
unpopular a mode of travel with him.

Thinking these things, Johnny looked back at the unhappily plodding
birdman and grinned.

He was not grinning when he rode away from the niche more than an hour
later, though he had reason for feeling encouraged. Bland Halliday did
know airplanes. He had proved that almost with his first comment when he
limped around the plane, looking her over. His whole manner had changed;
his personality, even. He was no longer the spineless, whining hobo; he
was a man, alert, critical, sure of himself and his ability to handle the
job before him. Johnny's manner toward him changed perceptibly. He