“Well, but I wasn’t hurt,” Johnny reiterated with his mouth set stubbornly.  “They had to go and worry the life outa you, Mary V—­that’s what I’m kicking about.  They—­”

Mary V gazed at him strangely.  “But you see, Johnny, it was I who worried the life out of them!  When you didn’t come, I got dad started, and then I ’phoned the sheriff and offered a reward and big pay and everything, to get men out.  All the sheriff’s men will get twenty-five dollars a day, Johnny, for hunting you.  And there was a reward and everything.  So don’t blame the public for taking an interest in whether you were killed or not.  Blame me, Johnny—­and dad, and the boys that have been riding day and night to find you.”

Johnny reddened.  “Well, I appreciate it, of course, Mary V—­but I don’t see why you should think—­”

“Because, Johnny, you didn’t come the next morning after I told you to come.  And the hotel clerk found your plane was gone, so—­”

“But I never said I’d come.  I told you I wouldn’t come to the ranch till I had the money to square up with your dad.  I meant it—­just that.  You must have known I wasn’t talking just to be using the telephone.”

“But you knew I expected you just the same.  And how could I know—­how could I dream, Johnny, that instead of coming or letting me know, or anything, you would take up with that perfectly horrible Bland Halliday again, and go off in the opposite direction, and be gone three whole days without a word?  I’m sure I wouldn’t have believed it possible you’d do a thing like that, Johnny.  I—­I can’t believe it now.  It—­it seems almost worse than if you had started for the ranch and—­”

“Got killed on the way, I suppose!  I like that.  I must say, I like that, Mary VI You’d rather have me with my neck broken than not doing exactly as you say.  Is that it?”

Mary V set her teeth together until she had herself under control, which, had you known the girl, would have meant a great deal.  For Mary V was not much given to guarding her tongue.

“Johnny, tell me this:  After knowing Bland Halliday as you do, and after knowing what I think of him, and what he tried to do down there at Sinkhole when he was going to steal your airplane and fly off with it, why have you taken up with him again, without one word to me about it?  And why didn’t you take the time and the trouble to call me up and say what you were going to do, when you knew that I’d be looking for you?  I hate to say it, Johnny, but it does look as though you didn’t care one bit about me or what I’d think, or anything.  You’ve just gone crazy on the subject of flying, and that Bland Halliday is just working you, Johnny, for an easy mark.  You think it’s pride that’s holding you back from taking dad’s offer and staying here and settling down.  But it isn’t that at all, Johnny.  It’s just plain conceit and swell-headedness, and I hate to tell you this, but it’s the truth.