“All right,” he exclaimed with a pretended growl, “but it kind o’ takes away the pleasure o’ the excursion.”
Roy had to smile. “Pleasure of the excursion,” he thought. “Racing over the desert after a cold-blooded murderer and thief who’ll probably shoot us full of holes at the first chance.”
“Rule number one,” he went on, his smile broadening. “And number two is: ‘It takes only one person to operate an aeroplane.’ I’ll be that person. Never interfere. It’s worse than a woman grabbin’ the reins when you’re drivin’.”
“Anything else?” asked Mr. Cook, with assumed soberness.
“Yes,” added Roy. “The car balances itself. It may turn over, but it’ll come up again. If anything happens, hold fast and wait. Don’t jump.”
“You know what I told your boss?” asked Mr. Cook suddenly. “I told him I’d done about everything that was risky, but that I wouldn’t go up in one o’ them things. I hadn’t seen one o’ them then. I’m agoin’ now even if I have to cut out smokin’. I’ve got the fever.”
It was now early dawn. The corral watchman was the only person to greet the early visitors and he gave what assistance was needed. Roy determined to use the starting wheels and within a few minutes he had attached them; the passenger seat which had not been put in place was also attached. The watchman was sent to fill the water bottle—the one Roy had purchased with such satisfaction—and it and the packet of food were made fast in the little baggage hammock.
Then Roy debated as to whether he had better make a short trial trip. He left the matter to Mr. Cook.
“I’m game from the start,” answered the westerner. “It looks good to me.”