"Now he wants to imitate birds," Gus groaned. "Don't you know it's too early to fly south?"
"Don't want to go that far south," Rick said.
"Come and get it."
Rick had no hesitation in asking the obliging Gus for the loan of equipment because he was always ready to oblige in turn. Several times, when Gus's plane was out of commission or not available, either because of engine overhaul or because some flier had rented it, Rick had taken the Cub to Whiteside for Gus to use in instructing his pupils. Furthermore, the island boats were always at Gus's disposal and he frequently borrowed one to go on a Sunday fishing excursion.
The short hop to Whiteside took only a few minutes. Rick taxied to the hangar and he and Scotty climbed out. Gus's plane, a light private job of a different make than Rick's and painted red, was standing on the apron. It had the name of the airport painted on the side in large letters.
Gus came out of the office and walked to meet them. He was a short, stocky young man only a few years older than Rick, and his slightly sour look hid a keen sense of humor. "I called my lawyer," he announced. "He'll be right here."
"Lawyer?" Rick sometimes had a hard time knowing when Gus was pulling his leg. "What for?"
Gus shrugged. "You're borrowing my plane when your own is in perfect flying condition. It must be for something illegal. You want my plane to be seen instead of yours. You want people to think I did it. So I asked my lawyer to come. I'll have a witness to prove I wasn't in the plane when the dastardly deed was done."
"What deed?" Scotty asked seriously.
Gus looked wise. "You don't trap me like that," he said. "If I admitted what I know, that would make me an accessory before the fact. Nope, I'm keeping quiet about this." He leered. "But I know!"