After a few minutes they all returned to the veranda, where they found Mr. Phipps mixing some purple colored stuff in a huge punch bowl. The clink of the ice was an agreeable sound, for they were all thirsty.
"This is my own grape juice punch," said Mr. Phipps, as he filled glasses for the Chinaman to pass around. "My scheme is to have Sing make it, and set it out here. Then when the guests appear I am stirring it industriously, as though it were my own job."
Sitting in the shade of the vine-covered veranda, and sipping the iced punch, it was not long before Mr. Hawke and the boys were thoroughly refreshed and rested. The aviator felt entirely at home with the hospitable rancher, and they chatted like old friends. Hawke noticed that besides holding vases of flowers, the tables were stacked with the latest magazines and popular books. He caught sight of a New York newspaper, and some from other parts of the country. There were hanging baskets suspended from the roof of the veranda, and the whole scene was restful and quiet, and even luxuriously comfortable.
CHAPTER VI
WINNING AN AEROPLANE
"Well, I see that the boys have got you into this sheep stealing mystery," began Mr. Phipps, when the glasses had been taken away. "Another bunch of my sheep killed or ruined last night. It beats the world what's happening to 'em."
"Fly said they found one of them lying down the road," said Herb.
"I looked him all over," spoke up Carlito, "and it looked to me like something with big claws had been at him, but he was in such shape that you couldn't tell for sure. Then there were a lot of magpies feeding on him when I rode up and the claw marks might have been those of some bird that had alighted on him after he was dead."
"Well, this thing has got to be stopped someway, somehow." Mr. Phipps spoke with an emphasis that meant business. "Herb and I have been talking it over all morning. He says yuh had an idea, Mr. Hawke, we might chase the thing, whatever it is, with an aeroplane."