She volplaned, flattened out a thousand feet or so above the island, circled as the searchlight, losing her when she dipped, sought her again with wide sweeping gestures of its accusing white finger.
Blinded by the glare, poor Johnny was banking to find a landing place among that assemblage of tents, low-eaved barracks, hangars, shops—the city built for the purpose of teaching men how to conquer the air. Something spatted close beside him on the edge of the cockpit as he wheeled and left a ragged hole in the leather. Johnny’s brain registered automatically the fact that he was being shot at. They probably meant that as a hint that he was to clear out or come down, one or the other. Well, if they’d take that darned searchlight out of his eyes so he could see, he would come down fast enough.
In desperation he slanted down steeply toward an open space, and the open space immediately showed a full border of lights, revealing itself a landing field such as he had read of and dreamed of but had never before seen. It shot up at him swiftly; too swiftly. He came down hard. There was a jolt, a bounce and another jolt that jarred the Thunder Bird from nose to tail.
After a dazed interval much briefer than it seemed, Johnny unstrapped himself and climbed out unsteadily. He looked fearfully at Cliff, but there was no sign of life there. Cliff’s head had merely tilted from the right shoulder to the left shoulder, and rested there.
Uniformed young men came trotting up from all sides. Two carried rifles, and their browned faces wore a look of grim eagerness, like men looking forward to a fight. Johnny pushed up his goggles and stared around at them.
“Where’s your captain or somebody that’s in charge here? I want to see the foreman of this outfit, and I want to see him quick,” he demanded, as the two armed young athletes hustled him between them. “Here, lay off that grabbing stuff! Where do you get that? I ain’t figuring on any getaway. I’m merely bringing a man into camp that stacks up like a spy or something like that. Better have a doctor come and take a look at him; I had to land him on the bean with my six-gun, and he acts kinda like he’s hurt. He ain’t moved since.”
“Well, will you listen to that!” One of the foremost of the unarmed group grinned. “This here must be Skyrider Jewel, boys, no mistake about that—he’s running true to form. ’Nother elopement—only this time he’s went and eloped with a spy, he claims.”
“Here comes the leatherneck. You’ll wish you hadn’t of lit, Skyrider. You’ll be shot at sunrise for this, sure!”
“You know it! It’s a firing squad for yours, allrighty!”
Johnny gave them a round-eyed, disgusted glare. “They can shoot and be darned; but the boss has got to see Cliff Lowell and the papers he’s got on him, if I have to wade through the whole hunch of you! Do you fellows think, for gosh sake, I just flew over here to give you guys a treat? Why, good golly! You—”