“It’s kept us awake, anyhow,” suggested Kit.
“Well,” Jimmie went on, “the machine that followed us from New York is in one of the canyons over to the south. You remember that we saw it settling down in the darkness.”
“And it isn’t very far away, either,” suggested Kit.
“That’s the idea!” returned Jimmie. “It is so near at hand that this imitation ranger you saw is likely to find it at any minute. If he does, it’s all off with us!”
“So you’re going to bump into this crooked aviator yourself?” asked Kit.
“I aim to keep him busy all day!” Jimmie answered.
“Up in the air, I presume?” queried Kit.
“Exactly,” replied Jimmie.
“Then I ought to have stayed behind to watch the camp,” Kit mused, regretfully. “The boys may sleep for hours, and some one may wreck or steal the Bertha. You see,” the boy continued, “I thought you were only out for a short spin, so I had the nerve to jump aboard.”
“It’s all right to have company,” laughed Jimmie, “and now,” he added, turning on more power, “we’ll have to quit talking, for I’m going to give the motor a tip to get a move on, and her conversation will drown anything we have to say. But before I do this,” the boy went on, “I want to pass you this automatic revolver, and tell you that if anything happens to me I want you to catch hold of the steering apparatus as you’ve been taught and keep going toward the camp.”