he's going to do? He--he's awfully
queer since he was hurt. Do you suppose--?"

"Kitten," said her dad quietly, "when you're breaking a high-strung colt
he sometimes sorta resents his schooling and sulks. Then you've just got
to wait till he figures things out for himself a little. If you force him
you're liable to spoil him and make him mean. Johnny's like that. He's
just a high-strung human colt that life is breaking. I guess, kitten, we
better not crowd him right now."

"Well, I don't see why he should act that way with _me_," Mary V
complained, and thereby proved herself altogether human and feminine in
her point of view.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

SKYRIDER "HAS FLEW"!

Just at dawn the humming of the airplane motor woke Mary V. She sat up in
bed and listened, a little fear gripping at her heart; a fear which she
fought with her reason, her hopes, and all her natural optimism. Surely
Johnny would not be foolish enough to attempt a flight that morning. He
must be just trying put the motor. He would know he was not yet in
condition to bear any physical or nervous strain, sick as he had been. Of
course he wouldn't be so selfish as to make a flight without so much as
asking her if she would like to go with him. He knew she was simply crazy
over flying.

By that time she was out on the porch, where she was immediately joined
by her father and mother, also awakened by the motor. They were just in
time. From the neighborhood of the corral came an increasing roar. A
sudden rush of cool morning wind brought dust and bits of hay and gravel
flying in a cloud. A great, wide-winged, teetering bird-thing went racing
out into sight, spurned the earth and lifted, climbed steadily, circling
like a hungry hawk over a meadow full of mice.

"By heck, the boy can fly, all right!" Sudden paid tribute to Johnny's
skill in one unpremeditated ejaculation. "An airplane using our very
dooryard for a flying field, mommie! Times are certainly changing."

Mary V bit her lip and blinked very fast while she watched the plane
go circling up and up, the motor droning its monotonous song like a hive
of honey bees at work. It was pure madness for Johnny to attempt flying
so soon again. He would be killed; anything could happen that was
terrible. She shut her eyes for a minute, trying to rout a swift vision
of Johnny crumpled down limp in the pilot's seat as she had seen him that
day--nearly a month ago--with Bland, white-faced and helpless