He took up the pliers, examined them with one eye squinted against the smoke of his cigarette, weighed them in his hand, bent to read the trade-mark.

Then he looked at Tomaso.

Those pliers may or may not have come from the emergency kit of an airplane, but they certainly were not of the kind or quality that ranchmen were in the habit of owning.

To Johnny they looked convincing.

When he had an airplane of his own, he would find a hundred uses for a pair of pliers exactly like those.
"I thought you said your brother lost 'em," he observed drily.
Tomaso shrugged, flung out his hands, smiled with his lips, and frowned with his eyes.