"Nuthin'," said the boy. "Say, is that a airyplane?"
"Sure thing!" replied Ernest. "Do you live near here?"
"Yep!" said the boy. "Let's see you fly in it."
Ernest laughed. "You certainly believe in speeding the parting guest, don't you, young chap? Is this your father coming?"
"Yep! Say, how do you work her?"
Ernest turned to greet the tall farmer. Everything was turning out as he hoped. Not only would the farmer and his roly-poly wife, who presently came up panting, give them supper and a place to rest, but he had a Ford, and on account of the distance from town was always supplied with a large tank full of gas. Ernest gave a sigh of relief. The only danger was from their curiosity. When the thin boy went off to get the colt, and was seen riding furiously away, Ernest knew that, like Paul Revere, he was off to give an alarm and rouse the countryside. He looked at his watch. There should be a full moon later, but Bill was completely tired out and had not yet come into the condition known as second wind. It would take three or four hours to get ready for the rest of the flight.
"What sort of a chap is that boy of yours?" asked Ernest.
"Pig-headed!" said the old lady, speaking for the first time.
"That is not a bad trait," said Ernest, smiling. "I mean can you trust him?"
"Yes, you kin," said his mother. "Webby will do just what he says every time and all the time."