ler, cursing under his breath because Johnny had taken it off. He
was up in the forward seat testing the control when Johnny called him to
come and eat.

In the narrow strip of sky that showed over the niche the stars were
paling. A faint flush tinged the blue as Johnny looked up anxiously.

"We'll take a little grub and my two canteens full of water," he said,
with a shade of uneasiness in his voice. "We don't want to get caught
like those poor devils did that lost the plane. But, of course--"

"Say, where you going, f'r cat's sake?" Bland looked over his cup in
alarm. "Not down where them--"

"We're going to find out where those horses went. You needn't be scared,
Bland. I ain't organizing any suicide club. You tend to the flying part,
and I'll tend to my end of the deal. Air-line, it ain't so far. We ought
to make there and back easy."

He bestirred himself, not exultantly as he had done the day before, but
with a certain air of determination that impressed Bland more than his
old boyish eagerness had done. This was not to be a joy-ride. Johnny did
not feel in the least godlike. Indeed, he would like to have been able to
take Sandy along as a substantial substitute in case anything went wrong
with the plane. He was taking a risk, and he knew it, and faced it
because he had a good deal at stake. He did not consider, however, that
it was necessary to tell Bland just how great a risk he was taking. He
had not even considered it necessary to telephone the Rolling R and tell
Sudden what it was he meant to do. Time enough afterwards--if he
succeeded in doing it.

He was anxious about the gas, and about water, but he did not say
anything about his anxiety. He made sure that the tank would not hold
another pint of gas, and he was careful not to forget the canteens.
Then, when he had taken every precaution possible for their welfare, he
climbed into his place and told Bland to start the motor. He was taking
precautions with Bland, also.

"We fly south," he yelled, when Bland climbed into the front seat. "Make
it southeast for ten miles or so--and then swing south. I'll tap you on
the shoulder when I want you to turn. Whichever shoulder I tap, turn that
way. Middle of your back, go straight ahead; two taps will mean fly low;
three taps, land. You got that?"

Bland, pulling down his cap and adjusting his goggles, nodded. He drew
on his gloves and slid down into the seat--alert, efficient, the Bland
Halliday which the g