They must not know we're plain human--we've got to be gods come down to earth, and this is the Thunder Bird.

Or another kind of bird.

We'll make 'em think that.

They don't sabe flying machines--see?
And we'll find out where they're all at, and fly low over their heads to convince them that didn't see us come down.
It'll scare 'em, and work on their superstition, so when we come down again to locate that motor trouble, they'll stand in awe of us long enough to give us time to get in shape.

You leave the soaring to me, Bland.