“Thought I’d come out and see if you was going to make a flight this morning,” he said.  “It’s a good morning for it, bo.  How’s she working, these days?  Old man at the ranch wouldn’t let me try her out after I’d fixed her up; said you was too sick to have the motor going.  So I couldn’t be sure I’d made a good job of it.  Give you any trouble?”

Johnny sat up and knuckled his eyes, his mouth wide open in a capital O. It seemed to him that Bland had his nerve, and he guessed shrewdly that the aviator was simply making sure of his breakfast.  When cats come back they have a fashion of hanging around the kitchen, he remembered.  Oh, well, there was nothing to be gained by being nasty and even Bland’s company was better than none.

“Hey, ain’t yuh awake yet?  I asked yuh how the motor’s acting.”

“O—­o—­h, aw-righ!” yawned Johnny, blinking around for his boots.  “I ain’t been flying much.  Just flew over here from the ranch, and a little circle now and then when something come along that looked like money.  I wanted to keep her in good shape in case the gover’ment—­”

“Trying to sell it back to the gover’ment, huh?  I coulda told yuh, bo, they wouldn’t take it as a gift.  She’s a back number now—­a has-been, from the gover’ment viewpoint.  Why don’t you keep it?  What yuh want to sell it for, f’r cat’s sake?  She’s a gold mine if you know how to work it, bo—­take it from me.”

“Well, I wish to thunder you’d show me the gold, then,” Johnny retorted crossly, pulling on his boots.

“Lend us a smoke, will yuh, old top?  The money’s here, all right, if yuh just know how to get it out.  And flying for the gover’ment ain’t the way.  I’ll say a man’s got to be his own boss if he wants to pull down real money.  Long as you’re workin’ for somebody else, he’s getting the velvet.  You ain’t, believe me.  And the gover’ment as a boss—­”

“Well, good golly, come to the point!” snapped Johnny.  “How can I make money with this plane?” He gave it a disgruntled look, and turned to Bland.  “She’s a bird of a millionaire’s toy, if you ask me,” he said.  “She’s a fiend for gas and oil, and every time you turn ’er around there’s some darned thing to be fixed or replaced.  I’m about broke, trying to keep her up till I can sell out.  It’s coffee and sinkers for you, old timer, if you’re going to eat on me.  Another meal like you had last night, and we’ll both have to skip a few in order to buy gas to joy-ride some cheap sport that lets on he’s thinking of buying.  I suppose your idea is—­”

“F’r cat’s sake give me a chance to tell yuh!  Course you’ll go broke trying to support the plane.  You’re goin’ at it backwards.  Make the plane support you.  That’s my idea.  And you do it by exhibition flying for money—­not sailin’ around giving the whole damn country a free treat.