“‘The heat’s got her,’ I said, for it certainly was hot, even there in the shaded patio.
“I guess Rafaela thought me pretty dense, by the way she looked at me.
“‘Is that all you can think about?’ she asked. ‘But, you think about the heat—well, wouldn’t it be fine to go flying? So nice and cool?’
“Then I tumbled. ‘Come on,’ I said, ‘let’s go.’
“We tiptoed out of the patio like a couple of conspirators. The old duenna never stirred. Don Ferdinand wasn’t in sight. Neither was anybody else at the front of the house. And out behind, in the quarters, I expect everybody was taking a siesta. Anyway, we couldn’t hear a sound.
“So off we trotted across the lawn and disappeared among the eucalyptus trees—you know, Dad, cutting off the house from the don’s landing field?”
Mr. Hampton nodded, a reminiscent light in his eyes. He was remembering the scene which had become so familiar during his period of captivity several years before.
Captain Cornell opened his eyes. “A landing field?” he demanded, incredulously.
“Oh, yes,” explained Jack. “Several years back, when the old don was an unreconstructed Mexican rebel, he had a couple of airplanes in his pay. Several of his aviators even stole ours—that is Bob’s and Frank’s—airplane. But we got it back. The airplanes are gone, as well as most of the rebel army Don Ferdinand was feeding at that time. But the flying field remains. It’s in pretty good shape too.
“Anyhow,” he continued, “Rafaela and I popped out on the field, and I put her in the plane. Then I stirred up a couple of sleepy Mexicans whom I’ve trained to help me. We got her going, and after I’d warmed her up, we took off for a spin.