Tim nodded.
“Who are you and where do you come from?” The words cracked through the air like a whiplash and Tim was startled by the forcefulness of the question but he had planned carefully for just such a moment.
“I’m Tim Murphy of Blanton,” he replied, “and out for anything that promises good pay.” Tim had decided to use his own name but not that of his home town.
Lopez was appraising him through half-closed eyes and Tim felt them boring into him, searching for something false in his appearance. Whatever the rebel chief’s shortcomings might be, he was a man of decision.
“You can join us,” he said, “at $200 a week, but one bad move and—.” Lopez did not complete the sentence for a plane careened through the gap in the mountains and settled down swiftly on the field.
Tim, who was busy surveying his new surroundings, paid little attention to the newcomer until the pilot climbed out of his cockpit and took off his helmet.
Then he found himself staring into the eyes of Daredevil Dugan!
Before Tim had time to speak or motion Dugan to silence, the daredevil was striding toward him, hand outstretched.
“How’s the flying reporter of the Atkinson News?” he cried.
Tim looked about him quickly. There wasn’t a chance in the world for an escape. He’d have to face the music and he wondered if Dugan’s words had been intended to get him into trouble.