“Then you’re new to the border too?” Moran said awkwardly. He was in an agony of self-consciousness, because of the figure he’d cut on that landing.
“What?” squawked Scarth. “New to the border! Why, I’ve been with the Laredo flight for years! Didn’t you ever hear of that Caloras case?”
“No, probably he didn’t,” Slim Evans cut in casually. “There really are a few birds in the world who’ve never heard of you, Dumpy.”
Scarth bridled like a bantam rooster. Now he looked Moran over scornfully, and Shag was suddenly aware that his shoes were wrinkled and unpolished and clumsy looking. Kate, his sister and only surviving relative, cost him a good deal in college. Too much for him to afford forty dollar boots and hundred and fifty dollar uniforms.
“You sure came in in a burst of glory,” Scarth informed him with relish. “Two bounces—I thought sure you were a major.”
“I—er—hit an airpocket the first time,” Moran told him.
He was standing at the foot of the steps, shifting from one foot to another, always conscious of the speculative scrutiny to which he was being subjected by the men who would have to live on intimate terms with him for months.
“Air pocket ⸺!” yapped Dumpy.
“You were coming in too slow! The second time you looked as though you were trying to break speed records. I suppose the wind shifted on your tail that time.”
It had come. Suddenly Shag was conscious of an overweening desire to close Hearth's mouth for him. The others had said nothing.