Even in the extremity of anxiety, Detective Pendar could not repress a smile at the sight which the glass revealed. The head of Bunk kept flitting back and forth, in his efforts to handle the machine and to learn what Harvey was trying to tell him. Pendar saw the young aviator shake his fist angrily, and once he seemed on the point of cuffing the heavy-witted youth for his stupidity. For a minute or two the aeroplane wavered and swayed to that degree that it seemed on the point of capsizing, but Bohunkus gradually regained control, and began his manœuvers to land in the open space from which he had ascended. He made a mess of it, the wheels striking the ground so hard that both the boys came within a hair of pitching out. Then the biplane banged over the road, coming to a halt barely in time to escape a disastrous collision with a telegraph pole.
“The next time you want to try your hand,” said the angry Harvey, “I’ll put you in charge of a clam wagon.”
Bohunkus Johnson and Harvey Hamilton having been playmates from young childhood, had indulged in the usual number of “spats” natural to such a relation. They were fond of each other and the colored youth as a rule accepted the criticisms of his friend with good nature; but in the present instance the reproof given him was made in the presence of fully a score of men and boys and was heard by all of them. Several grinned, and had not nature made it impossible, Bunk would have flushed with resentment. As it was, he could not accept the slur with meekness.
“I done as well as yo’ could yo’self. Yo’ told me of I seed a cabin I was to shoot down and knock de chimbly off, and den when I started to do so, yo’ let out a howl dat nearly knocked my cap off. De next time yo’ can ’tend to things yo’self.”
“You may be mighty sure I shall; the wonder is that you didn’t smash this machine worse than the other one.”
“I wouldn’t keer if I did,” replied Bunk, stepping from his seat and striding off. He paused long enough to call back:
“I’m done trabeling wid yo’; I like to hab folks ’preciate what’s done for ’em, which is what yo’ never did.”
“The best thing you can do, Bunk, is to sail for Africa and make a visit to Chief Foozleum.”
Harvey laughed when he made this remark, for he never could feel angry for more than a few minutes with the faithful fellow, and he knew his resentment would soon cool. It did not occur to him that the colored youth’s grievance was due to the tantalizing enjoyment of the auditors. Had they been elsewhere, he would have brushed the criticism aside like so much thistle down, but he could not stand the ridicule of strangers.
“Dat’s what I’ll do,” replied Bunk in response to the absurd counsel of the other.