“Yes—and that it is his sacred duty to kill you,” she replied. “He was terrified at first; but he is not at all afraid of you now. The very thought of you, and of the way you frightened him when you rushed down from the sky, fills him with fury.”
“But am I to hide from him always?”
“Always? Did you come here to settle for life?”
“My machine is smashed and I have dismantled it; and I need a rest.”
“You will not get much rest with Grandfather hunting you all the time; and there are other and more usual ways of leaving here than by aëroplane. But go now—quick!”
Akerley left the room and closed the door behind him. He lit a fire in the stove stealthily, boiled water and made tea. He did not fry bacon, for fear that the smell of it might start the old man into action again; so he breakfasted on bread and butter and jam. He was about to light a cigarette—the last one in his case—when the girl appeared from the old man’s bedroom. She came very close to him, with a finger on her lip for warning.
“He has come around, but he is very weak and shaken,” she whispered. “He seems quite dazed, just as he did the other times; but he will soon recover his wits and energy, you may be sure. He may be like this all day, or perhaps only for a few hours; and then he’ll be out with the rifle again, looking for you. What have you done with your aëroplane?”
Akerley eyed her steadily and thoughtfully before replying.
“I have hidden the parts here and there,” he said. “I’ll show you, any time you say. One plane is badly smashed, but not hopelessly. I may mend it some day; but just now the important thing for me is to have all the parts out of sight.”
“So that Grandfather can’t find them and destroy them?” she queried.