He wouldn't even tell Curley where he was going.

And then, some day-- There came the air castle again, floating alluringly before his eager imagination, like a mirage lake in the desert.

Johnny's eyes stared ahead through the shimmering heat waves--stared and saw not the monotonous neutral tints of sand and rock and gray sage and yellow weeds and the rutted, dusty trail that wound away across the desert.

But Mary V's face turned expectantly toward him from the crowd as he walked nonchalantly around his big tractor, testing every cable, inspecting the landing gear and the elevators and the--what-ye-may-call-'ems--and then climbing in and trying out his control--and pulling down his goggles and settling his moleskin cap and all--and then nodding imperiously to his helper--not little Curley; he was not big enough to crank his powerful motor--but some big guy that had a reach like-- And then the buzz and the hum, and fellows braced against the wings to hold 'er till he was ready to give the word! And the dust storm he kicked up behind--he hoped Mary V got her eyes full, darn her!--and then, getting the feel of 'er, and giving a nod to the fellows to let go the wings! And then-- Johnny rode along in a trance.

He, his conscious inward self, was not riding a sweating bronk along a trail that wound more-or-less southward across the desert.