But the freemasonry of the range land held Johnny to the feeling that there was a common bond between them, in spite of Tomaso's swarthy skin.
Besides, he was lonely.

His tongue loosened while Tomaso ate and praised Johnny's cookery with the innate flattery of his race.
"Wha's that pic'shur?
What you call that thing ?" Tomaso pointed a slender, brown finger at a circular heading, whereon a pink aeroplane did a "nose dive" toward the date line through voluted blue clouds.
"That?
Say! Didn't you ever see a flying machine ?" Johnny stared at him pityingly.
Tomaso shook his head vaguely.

"Me, I'm never saw one of them things.

My brother, he's tell me.

He knows the spot where there's one fell down.