"You ain't any prouder than I am," said Fly, while his mother stroked his red locks affectionately. "Hawke says he thinks I'm going to make a good flier. Gee, won't it be great to be up in the air sailing around like a bird!"
"I'm a little afraid of accidents," said Mrs. Giles, who had been somewhat worried about the safety of the venture, but had not wished to dampen her son's enthusiasm.
"Oh, leave that to Hawke," exclaimed Fly confidently. "He's going to make the first flight, although I wouldn't be afraid to go with him. Besides, we've got to get that sheep stealer. Herb's dad has been mighty good to us. We fellows are just crazy to find out what that killing thing is anyway. Gee, you ought to hear the way he howled the night Herb got hurt!" Even now, Fly thrilled at the memory of the experience.
"Hello," he broke in, as Dunk appeared some yards from the house. "Come on over."
"I'm tired," sighed Dunk, as he sat down beside Fly on the stoop, "but I can't think of going to bed, I'm so excited over that plane."
"To-morrow we get it in the hangar," began Fly, "then the engine and then, whoopee, up she goes!"
Fred, Jerry and Carlito strolled by at that moment, and, when they had joined the pair on the porch, made the same complaint as Dunk.
"I'm a little cut up over that old Indian, too," pondered Carl. "I wouldn't be afraid to meet him single-handed, but when a redskin gets to plotting things behind his paint, watch out!"
"Oh, don't worry about that," protested Dunk, who did not understand as well as Carl the malicious nature of a semi-wild Indian. "He's just a little bit cracked, that's all."
"Sure," corroborated Jerry. "The bunch of us wouldn't do a thing to him if he got actin' funny."