“Did you paint Nike—the plane?” she ventured to ask.
“Yes,” he admitted. “She’s got money in these works so I had to, because she told me to, but it was a hurry-up job just on the outside. It’s hardly dry yet, but that flying fool couldn’t wait.”
“She did appear to be in a hurry,” the girl remarked.
Roberta didn’t say so, but he had given her the information she wanted. They had not taken time to go over the inside of the machine and it was possible that the signal buzzer would be heard by someone. The girl wanted awfully to ask Wat where they were, but decided against being too inquisitive.
“I see the kid, Natell, over on the hill. Guess it’s time you got something more to eat,” he told her.
“That would be welcome,” Roberta replied with a smile. She started toward the young Indian girl, but Wat called.
“I say, Miss Langwell!”
“Yes.” She turned about.
“Thought I’d tell you it’s about three hundred miles, air line, to the nearest coast.”
“Three hundred miles!” she exclaimed in dismay.