“I’m looking for General Lopez,” said Tim. “I heard he was paying good money for flyers.”
“You’ve found Lopez all right,” said the other airman. “This is his headquarters and unless I’m mistaken, he’s hot-footing it down here right now. You’d better tell a straight story or he’ll make you wish you were never born.”
Tim saw a pudgy, brown-skinned little man in a khaki uniform with an abundance of gold braid, strutting down the road that bordered the field. Trailing him were half a dozen officers of nondescript rank.
“Better climb down,” muttered Tim’s captor.
The flying reporter slid out of his plane and lounged against the fuselage, as he watched the approach of the rebel leader. So this pig-eye lump of a man was the leader of the revolution. Tim felt a surge of disappointment for Lopez was anything but what he had pictured him. Tim had visualized a tall, clean cut man with a forceful personality and he felt cheated at what he saw.
As the general approached, Tim’s captor drew himself to attention and saluted. Tim thought it might make a good impression if he did likewise. His hunch was right for he saw a flash of pleasure in the eyes of Lopez.
The general wasted few words.
“Who is this man?” he demanded of the other flyer. The pilot of the rebel plane told how he had sighted Tim and brought him to Cedros. He added that Tim had told him he hoped to join the rebel air force.
Lopez turned on Tim.
“So,” he said, “you wish to join us.”