“There can’t be any accidents, bo,” he said uneasily.  “I’ve went over the motor careful, and we oughta make it with about two stops for gas and oil.  If I thought we’d git caught out—­”

Johnny threw away his cigarette stub and straightened his shoulders.  “Well, we’re going to try it,” he stated definitely.  “You needn’t think I’m anxious to get caught out in that damned desert—­I know what it’s like, a heap better than you do, Bland.  There’s ways to commit suicide that’s quicker and easier than running around in circles on the desert without water.  I aim to play safe.  You go down town and buy an extra water bag and some grub.  And when we start we’ll follow the railroad.  Beat it—­and say!  Don’t go and load up with sandwiches like a town hick.  Get half a dozen small cans of beans, and some salt and pancake flour and matches and a small frying pan and bucket and a hunk of bacon and some coffee.  And say!” he called as Bland was hurrying off, “don’t forget that water bag!”

Bland nodded to show that he heard, and struck a trot down the street.  And Johnny, while he occupied himself with going over the plane and making sure that the gas tank was full and there was plenty of oil, almost whistled until the thought of Mary V pulled his lips down at the corners.  He wanted to call up the ranch and see if she were there, and tell her where he was going, but that seemed foolish, after a week of silence from her.  He shrank from the possibility of being told that Mary V wished to have nothing to do with him.  So pride stiffened his determination to go on and let them think what they pleased of him.

Bland came back with a furtive look in his pale-blue eyes.  Johnny gave him a keenly appraising glance, edged close and sniffed, and decided that he was too suspicious and that Bland’s sneaking look was merely an outcropping of his nature and had nothing to do with prohibition.  Bland had the supplies in a gunny sack and made haste to stow them away to the best advantage.

Bland carried a guilty conscience.  The hotel clerk had hailed him as he passed and had inquired for Johnny.  “Long distance” had a call for him, and had insisted that Johnny be found at once and put in connection with the “party” who wished to talk with him.  Bland had promised to find Johnny and tell him, and had hurried on.  A block farther down the street a messenger boy had hailed him and asked him if he knew where Johnny Jewel was.  “Long distance” was calling and had orders to search the town and get Johnny on the ’phone at once.  The call had come in just after Johnny had left the jail, and no one seemed to know where he had gone.

“It’s his girl—­the one he tried to elope with,” the boy had informed Bland with that uncanny knowledge of state secrets which messenger boys are prone to display.  “She’ll tear the telephone out by the roots if we don’t get him.  Is he over to the flying-machine shed?”