He honestly believed that the brother of Tomaso was best dealt with cautiously.
"When this airplane is safe at Sinkhole, and you've brought me every darned thing that's been packed off, I'll pay you the rest of the fifty.
There's more," he added meaningly, "that's missing.

The fuselage ain't all." The brother of Tomaso seemed unhappy.

He took the ten dollars with a sigh, promised himself much unpleasantness for Tomaso, and wearily set about making camp, too dispirited to care that Johnny spent the time in fussing around the machine, making a thin pretense of looking it over for breakages and defects when all the while he was simply adoring it.
"At daybreak," Johnny announced with a new dignity in his voice--the dignity of one having valuable possessions and a potential power--"we'll start back.

But I don't think much of your idea that we can drag this machine home with our saddle horses.

We can't--not and have anything but a bundle of junk when we get there.