The truth probably is that he lost it some other way--maybe borrowed
money on it and couldn't pay it back. That's what he always does, and
then gets drunk and spends it all. But just as sure as you live, he'll
steal your machine if he gets a chance. And once he's in the air--you
can't chase him up there, you know. And you couldn't _prove_ it was your
aeroplane afterwards, could you? You haven't any papers or anything;
you said it was 'finders, keepers.' And he could claim that he found it
himself, couldn't he?"

She looked at Johnny's sobering face, with the pursed lips and the crease
between his eyes that told of worry. Bland Halliday, once he was in the
air, would be master of the situation. Johnny saw that.

"But you see, Skyrider, he can't fly without gas, and if you just have a
little bit--just enough to practice with--"

"Mary V, when you aren't on the fight you're the best little pal in the
world!" cried Johnny impulsively, and leaned and caught her hand and held
it tight for a minute.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LET'S GO

From a crooked willow branch thrust upright into the hard-packed sand to
mark the entrance to the secret niche, a ripped flour sack hung limp in
the cool, still air of a red dawn. From the niche itself came the vibrant
buzzing of a high-powered motor to which Sandy listened with head up and
ears perked anxiously, his staring eyes rolling toward a feasible line of
retreat should panic overwhelm his present astonished disapproval.

The buzzing drew steadily nearer the yawning mouth of the cleft. The air
swirled with a fine, rushing cloud of sand, against which Johnny blinked
and pressed tight his lips while he dug his toes deep to guide and help
propel the airplane through the opening. Followed Mary V, walking on her
toes with excitement, swallowing dust without a murmur, her camera ready
for action when they emerged into a better light. In the pilot's seat
Bland Halliday, goggled and capped for flying, tested the controls before
he eased the motor into its work.

Johnny, with his head bent low against the backwash of dust, looked at
Mary V. Words were useless, worse than inadequate.

Well out from the mouth of the cleft, on the barren strip before the sage
growth began, Bland swung the plane so that it pointed to the west. He
lifted a hand in signal, and Johnny leaned backward, digging in his heels
instead of his toes. The huge man-made dragon fly stopped, buzzing
vibrantly. Bland Hallid