“I met the individual referred to yesterday—Pappy George Bilney introduced him to me. They ’peared to have struck up considerable of a friendship on the way down,” the Sheriff said slowly. “I ain’t seen this feller around the town to-day, neither. Prob’ly George told him all his secrets, too, on the way down. He never has learnt that there’s bad men runnin’ around the border. I’ve often thought of what a good chance fer a robbery George’s emporium was, ’way off by itself thataway. By Godfrey, to-day’s the first o’ the month, too. I believe I’ll mosey up to see George and Judy t’morrer.” The Sheriff turned to Captain Perkins. “Cap’n, how about one o’ the boys flyin’ me up to Willett t’morrer? I shore am anxious to git up that way.”
The commanding officer readily assented.
“Thanks, Cap’n,” returned Trowbridge. “Sleepy, I ain’t noticed you rushin’ forward to offer yore services as chauffeur—”
“Oh, I’ll be tickled pink,” yawned Sleepy.
Helmet and goggles in hand, Sleepy, the next morning, made his way to the line, where a huge figure interestedly watched the efforts of the mechanics.
“Mornin’!” came the jovial hail of Trowbridge.
Sleepy nodded. The big twelve-cylinder Liberty increased its roar as the sergeant shoved the throttle wide open. The men, holding each wing and the tail, buckled to their work as the whirring propeller pulled the wheels against the blocks with seemingly irresistible force.
Slowly the drum of the mighty cylinders tapered off as the mechanics drew back the throttle. Spears adjusted helmet and goggles, and then helped in the Sheriff, who looked like an old eagle.
One of the mechanics saw to it that the belt was safely snapped around him while Sleepy took a look at his instruments from beneath drooping eyelids. The air-pressure was two and a half and the oil-pressure a safe thirty. Quick trials of each switch proved that both sets of plugs were working perfectly. Temperature 70 Centigrade, voltmeter charging, gasoline pet-cocks switched on the main tank, horizontal stabilizer at neutral—the maze of wheels and instruments and pet-cocks and pumps that filled the cock-pit made a connected story which his drowsy eyes read effortlessly.
He glanced back at the Sheriff, who filled the rear cock-pit to overflowing. The Sheriff waved a puffy arm to signify his readiness to depart.