He didn't believe it--but he pictured to himself just how it would look, and he played a little with the idea.

It was something new to think about, and Johnny straightway built himself a dream around it.
Riding the ridges in the lesser heat of the early mornings, his physical eyes looked out over the meager range, spying out the scattered horse herds grazing afar, their backs just showing above the brush.

Behind his eyes his mind roved farther, visioning a military plane sitting, inert but with potentialities that sent his mind dizzy, on the hot sand of Mexico--so close that he could almost see the place where it sat.
This was splendid food for Johnny's imagination, for his ambitions even, though it was not particularly good for the Rolling R.He was not bothered much.

Evenings, the foreman or Sudden would usually call him up and ask him how things were.

Johnny would say that everything was all right, and had the stage driver made a mistake and left any of his mail at the ranch?
Because he had been to the mail box on the trail and there was nothing there.