"Much obliged, bo--but I don't want to crowd you--"

"You won't crowd me," said Johnny drily, "I aim to sleep with the
plane." Bland may have read Johnny's reason for sleeping with his
airplane, but beyond one quick look he made no sign. "Still nuts over
it--I'll say you are," he grunted. "You wait till you've been in the
game long as I have, bo."

With a blanket and pillow bought on his way through the town, Johnny
disposed himself for the night under the nose of the plane with the
wheels of the landing gear at his back. He was not by nature a
suspicious young man, but he knew Bland Halliday; and to know Bland was
to distrust him.

He felt that he was taking a necessary precaution, now that he knew
Bland was in Tucson. With the landing gear behind him, no one could
move the airplane in the night without first moving him.

Now that he thought of it, Bland had been left fifty miles farther down
the line, to catch his train. Tucson was a perfectly illogical place
for him to be in, even for the purpose of carousing. One would
certainly expect him to hurry to the city of his desires and take his
pleasure there. Johnny decided that Bland must still have an eye on
the plane.

That he was secretly envious of Bland as an aviator did not add to his
mental comfort. Bland could speak with slighting familiarity of "the
game," and assume a boredom not altogether a pose. Bland had drunk
deep and satisfyingly of the cup which Johnny, to save his honor, must
put away from him after a tantalising sip or two. Not until Bland had