bo—­do the flunkey work and look wise.  I never mentioned the joyridin’ at first, because I look on that as side money, and exhibition flyers don’t do nothing like that.  They think it cheapens ’em, and it does.  But right now it means quick money, see.  With all this publicity, and the Injun name—­say, it’s a cinch, bo!  They’ll fall over theirselves to git a ride.

“My idea is to get the name painted on right now, before we go back.  Then we’ll circle over town and do a few flops and show our sign.  So right away the name’ll stick in their minds and make good advertising.  Then when we land, the mob’ll be there—­I’ll say they will!  And they’ll take a ride, too.  I wonder is there any lampblack on the place?”

Johnny smoked a cigarette and studied the proposition.  It looked feasible.  Moreover, it promised ready money, and ready money was Johnny’s greatest, most immediate need.  Not a little of his captiousness with Mary V was caused by his secret worry over his empty pockets.  He grinned ruefully when the thought struck him that, if the bald truth were known, he himself did not have much more than the price of one joyride in his own machine!  He had been seriously considering asking Curley for a loan when that staunch little friend returned from the search, but it galled his pride to borrow money from any one.  Bland’s idea began to look not only feasible but brilliant.  It would establish at once his independence and furnish concrete proof to Mary V that his determination to fly was based on sound business principles.  Supposing he only took up four or five passengers a day, he would make more money than he could earn in two weeks at any other occupation.

Bland seemed to read this thought.  “You can count on an average of ten a day, bo—­that’s a hundred dollars.  Sometimes, like on Sundays, it would run to two and three hundred bones.  I guess that will let you throw your feet under the table regular—­what?”

“What about you?” Johnny asked, looking up at him studiedly.

“Me?  I’ll tell yuh, bo.  You give me the second ten bucks you take in.  You keep the rest until the tenth passenger, and give me that, and then the fifteenth.  And you pay all expenses.  That’s fair enough, ain’t it?  I’ll make good money when you make better.  Any exhibition work, you give me half, because it’ll really be me that’s pulling off the stunts.  The public needn’t be wise to that.  You as Skyrider Johnny, see.  I’m just anybody, for the present.”

“Why all this modesty to-day?  When you first wanted to go in with me, I couldn’t call you no violet, Bland.  You said then that your name was worth a lot.”

Bland’s loose lips parted in a crafty grin.  “It is worth a lot, bo—­to keep it under cover right now.  One of them newspaper guys reminded me of somebody.  I don’t think he remembered me—­but it wouldn’t do us no good now to joggle his memory, bo.  I ain’t saying he’s got anything on me—­only—­”