Bill laughed for the first time since his arrival at the workings.
“You’re a sketch, Osceola! But I guess you’re right. My plan in a nut-shell is just this. You may not believe me, but if we live, you and I are going out of here by plane—and I’m going to fly it. Do you see now?”
“The amphibian is here, all right,” affirmed the Seminole. “She won’t fly back to Shell Island until tomorrow. But there’s no stealing her, young fellow. First, she’s locked up tight. Second, she’s too well guarded.”
“Just so,” Bill declared, grinning in the darkness. “But my plan is not to steal the plane, you know.”
“What then?”
“Steal the pilots, my hearty!” This time Bill laughed outright.
[CHAPTER IX—WHAT HAPPENED IN THE COMPOUND]
“How about it?” asked Bill an hour later. “Time to travel?”
“I guess those lads behind the stockade should be pretty well off to bye-bye by this time,” yawned Osceola, getting stiffly to his feet. “In more ways than one, I hate to leave the shelter of this good old tree. It certainly has proved a help in time of need!”
Bill likewise stood up and balanced himself on their airy perch in the darkness. “Well, I can see your point,” he answered, “but I’m not getting sentimental about it. Ever since that filthy snake poked his nose at me, I’ve been waiting for his wife or brother or sister to drop on me. I can’t see in the dark like you. So the sooner we make the road, the happier I’ll be.”