Bland was staring, loose-lipped, incredulous.  “Aw, say!  D’yuh think I’ll swallow that?” There was a threatening note beneath the whine of his voice.

“If you don’t choke.  Come on, Mary V; ‘hop in, and we’ll take a spin,’ and all the rest of it.  Venus’ll have nothing on you.  Here’s my goggles; put ’em on.  I’m going to borrow Bland’s.”  It had occurred to Johnny that Mary V would probably shrink from wearing anything belonging to Bland Halliday; girls were queer that way.

Bland stepped pugnaciously forward; his pale eyes were unpleasantly filmed with anger.  “Aw, I see your game, bo; but you can’t get away with it.  Not for a minute, you can’t.  You think I’m such a mark as that?  Come down here and work like a dog to get the plane ready to fly, and then kiss yuh good-bye and watch yuh go off with it—­and leave me here to rot with the snakes and lizards?  Oh, no!  I’ll take the young lady—­”

“Give me a hand up, Johnny.  The front seat?  How perfectly ducky to ride home in an aeroplane!  Oh, Johnny wants your goggles, Mr. Halliday.”  Mary V reached down quickly and lifted them off the irate aviator’s head before he knew what she was after.  “Here they are, Johnny.  Sit down, and Mr. Halliday will crank up—­or whatever you call it.  I’ll send him right back, Mr. Halliday, just as quick as ever he can make the trip!”

Mr. Halliday gave her a venomous glance, and a sneer which included them both.

“Ain’t it a shame she ain’t equipped with a self-starter?” he fleered.  “You two look cute, settin’ there; but I don’t seem to see yuh making any quick getaway, at that.”  He spread his legs and stood arrogantly, arms folded, the sneer looking perfectly at home on his face.

“Don’t be a darned boob!” Johnny snapped impatiently.  “Turn ’er over.  Miss Selmer wants me to pilot her home, and I’m going to tackle it.  You needn’t be scared, though; I’ll come back.”

“I don’t think so,” said Bland, teetering a little as he stood.

“I will, unless I bust something.  And it’s my machine, so I’m sure going to be right careful that nothing busts.”  What Johnny wanted to do was get out and lick Bland Halliday till he howled, but since the gratification of that desire was neither politic nor convenient, he promised himself a settlement later on, when Mary V was not present.  Just now he must humor Bland along.

“I don’t think you’ll come back,” Bland repeated, “because I don’t think you’ll start.  There’s a little detail to be looked after first—­a little swingin’ on the propeller to be done.  I don’t see anybody doin’ it.  And I never did hear of anybody flying without their motor running.”  He tittered malevolently.

“Cut out the comedy, bo, and let me in there.  You start ’er for me, and I’ll take Miss Selmer home for you.  You ain’t got your pilot’s license yet—­by a long ways.  I never heard of a flyer getting his license on a thirty or forty minute course.  It ain’t done, bo—­take it from me.”  He spat into the sand with an air of patient tolerance.