His glance went dismally over the bare stretches he had used for his field.  The wind had levelled the loose dirt over the tracks, so that the field looked long deserted and added its mite to his depressed mood.  He hesitated, almost minded to turn back.  What was the use of tormenting himself further?  But then it occurred to him that his whole world lay as forlornly empty before him as this field and hangar, and that one place was like another to him, who had lost his hold on everything worth while.  He had a vague notion to invoke the aid of the law to hold Bland and the plane, wherever he might be located, but he was not feeling particularly friendly toward the law just now, and the idea remained nebulous and remote.  He went on because there was really nothing to turn back for.

His dull apathy of despair received something in the nature of a shock when he walked around the corner and almost butted into Bland, who had just finished tightening a turnbuckle and stepped back to walk around the end of a wing.  Bland’s pale, unpleasant eyes watered with welcome—­which was even more surprising to Johnny than his actual presence there.

“Why, hello, old top!  They told me you’d be let out t’day, but I didn’t know just when.  You’re looking peaked.  Didn’t they feed yuh good?”

Johnny did not answer.  He went up and ran his fingers caressingly along the polished propeller blade that slanted toward him; he fingered the cables and touched the smooth curve of the wing as if he needed more evidence than his eyes could furnish that the Thunder Bird was there, where he had not dared hope he would find it.  Bland came up with an eager, apologetic air and stood beside him.  He was like a dog that waits to be sure of his mastery mood before he makes any wild demonstrations of joy at the end of a forced separation.

“I been overhauling the motor, bo, and I got her all tuned up and in fine shape for you.  She’s ready to take the long trail any old time.  I flew her for a couple of days, bo; took up passengers fast as they could climb in and out.  I knew you said you was about broke, so I went ahead and took in some coin.  I’ll say I did.  Three hundred bones the first day,—­how’s that?  There was a gang around here all day.  I didn’t get a chance to eat, even.  Second day I made a hundred and ninety, and got a flat tire, so I quit.  Next day I took in a hundred and thirty.  Then I put her in here and went to work on the motor.  I figured, the way they had throwed it into you, you’d probably want to beat it soon as you got out, and I was afraid to overwork the motor and maybe have to wait while I sent to Los Angeles for new parts.  It was time to quit while the quittin’ was good, bo.  Here’s your money—­all except what I spent for gas and oil and a few tools and one thing and another.  I kept out my share, and I ain’t chargin’ you for flying.  That goes in the bargain, that I’ll fly in an emergency like that.  So this is yours.”  Then he had to add an I-told-you-so sentence.  “Goes to prove I was right, don’t it?  Didn’t I say there was big money in flyin’?”