“Tell you what!” He sprang to his feet. “If you really must get rid of that money, give it to them. They need it. Crops have been bad; burned out. I’ll take you along in the plane and drop you off in a parachute, you and the money, just as I planned to throw over the doll.”
“Mebby you will!” Johnny’s tone was doubtful. “How far do you drop?”
“Far as you like, two thousand, three, five, ten thousand feet. It’s all the same to me.”
“‘And he probably was dead long before he touched the ground.’” Johnny groaned as he quoted an oft repeated expression.
“That,” said Curlie in disgust, “is all rot! I’ve dropped eight thousand feet straight down, then opened my parachute. Felt fine all the way down. Breath normal, hearing, eyesight, everything just as now. I tell you it was swell! Like diving off a high board into water, only there was no splash, and no chill. You don’t know what I’m offering you. It will give you a fresh glimpse of life.
“Besides,” he added after a moment, “you have been hanging around this dirty, noisy, crime-ridden city too long. You need a glimpse of the way life may be lived in plain comfort and peace.”
There was more talk and still more explaining. But in the end it was agreed that Johnny was to accompany Curlie on his flight and that, weather permitting, there should be a parachute jump with Johnny in the harness the very next day.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE CREAKING STAIRS
The cackling of geese saved Rome. A spider by his patience once gave the immortal Bruce the courage needed to win a great victory. Even a mouse may cause a deal of disturbance; Joyce Mills was to discover this on the very night that Johnny and Curlie sat planning their flight.
That night she visited the camp of the Bolsheviks. In spite of all that Johnny had said, she still believed that these radicals who were bent on destroying the present form of government in America had robbed the Air Mail.