Finally he too gave up and crawled under a wing where the heat was not quite so unendurable, and tried to think of something he had not done but which he might do to correct the motor trouble.

No Indians having been sighted since their second landing, he could push his fear of them into the back of his mind until a dark face peered out at him again.
Miles away to the west men were sweating while they rode, searching for this very airplane that sat so placidly in the midst of an Indian corn field.

Farther away the news went humming along the wires, of a young aviator lost with his airplane on the desert.

The fame of that young aviator was growing apace while he lay there, casually wishing there was a telephone handy so he could call up Mary V and tell her he had a plan which might make him big money without his having to sell his plane.
Not once did it occur to him that any one would be especially concerned over his absence.

Not once did he look upon this mishap as anything more serious than an unpleasant incident in the life of a flyer.