“I say, Jim, I’ve got an idea!”
“Take off your hat and let your head cool,” Jim advised. The younger boy got out of the cock-pit with all possible speed and was standing by the forward door before it could be opened. Austin grinned at him cheerfully.
“I don’t need to, you nut. Listen, Old Timer, you fly on to the K-A and tell Dad what’s doing, then telephone Don Haurea. I bet a thin dime against the State of Texas that he’ll be able to do something worth while from his place—”
“But your brother can’t fly well enough yet!” Kramer interrupted.
“Say, you sent that wire to your firm, didn’t you, that you are going to stay here?” Bob demanded.
“Yes, but what’s that got to do with it?”
“Nothing much, old man, but the Buddy and I know a lot more than you would suspect about airplanes. We’ll give you a demonstration when we’re not too busy. It’s this way, we thought you looked like a deserving lad, and we were sorry for anyone who never got real close to a good horse, so, when you said that your firm would give you permission to stay a while, we wanted to help you—we’re a pair of regular little helpfuls—ask our folks.”
“I’ll tell the world you are. Think I’m going to hang around here to teach you something you know? I’m not lying to my firm—”
“Gosh,” Bob’s face flushed. “That’s right, I didn’t think of it—you couldn’t do that—” then he grinned—“but, look here, if you do like Texas and horses and dogs—and us—I’ll bet you could sell a couple of planes to some of the ranchers. We’ll introduce you around—”
“I’ll bet the sheriff would buy one,” Jim added. Then the frown disappeared from Kramer’s face and he too grinned.