He went to sleep, lying there under a wing of his plane, and presently Bland himself drifted off into dreams that would have been much less agreeable had he known that a full two dozen Indians had crawled into the willows and were peering timorously out at them.
It was past noon when Bland awoke.

Johnny was still sound asleep, snoring a little now and then.

Bland grumbled more profanity, sent a questing glance toward the willows and saw nothing to alarm him, crawled out into the searing sunlight and tried to work.

But the motor was so hot he could not touch it anywhere.

His pliers and wrenches were too hot to hold, and his face felt scorched where the sun fell upon it.