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Now they were ready to depart. The mayor lifted the candle from the desk. Its light fell on a big chair by the fire, and Mr. Magee saw in that chair the figure of Mr. Bland, bound and gagged. Mr. Cargan and his companion paused, and appeared to address triumphant and jesting comment in Mr. Bland's direction.
He had explained to Bland that he meant to keep his promise as soon as he could and be square with his boss, and Bland had at the last resigned himself to the delay no doubt comforting himself with some cunning plan of revenge later, when he had gotten Johnny into the city, where Bland felt more at home and where Johnny would have all the odds against him, being a stranger and in Bland's opinion a "hick."
Hollister could imagine him in Norfolk and gaiters striding down an English lane, concerned only with his stable, his kennels, the land whose rentals made up his income. There were no problems on Bland's horizon.
This despatch Sullivan sent instantly to Washington, and the word Cheyney had brought was now made sure beyond peradventure. Bland's confirmation of Cheyney's news aroused the injudicious but brave commander of the right wing, and he moved his troops at once up toward Birmingham.
Hamilton is quoted as saying that Washington "never read any book upon the art of war but Sim's Military Guide," and an anonymous author asserted that "he never read a book in the art of war of higher value than Bland's Exercises."
She followed the generous figure of the other woman up the stair and, casting back a dazzling smile from the landing, disappeared. Mr. Magee turned to find Professor Bolton discoursing to Mr. Bland on some aspects of the Pagan Renaissance. Mr. Bland's face was pained. "That's great stuff, Professor," he said, "and usually I'd like it. But just now I don't seem in the mood, somehow.
Any exhibition work, you give me half, because it'll really be me that's pulling off the stunts. The public needn't be wise to that. You as Skyrider Johnny, see. I'm just anybody, for the present." "Why all this modesty to-day? When you first wanted to go in with me, I couldn't call you no violet, Bland. You said then that your name was worth a lot." Bland's loose lips parted in a crafty grin.
It was a quiet neighborhood, he declared, and no one would be likely to come near the place. If they did, they could not fly off with the Thunder Bird unless they happened to be carrying an extra propeller around with them. This, Johnny suspected, was Bland's best attempt at irony.
Bland's voice: " not as much as yuh might think, in all this brush. I've seen 'em hurt worse and get over it, and I've seen 'em die when you'd think " After that it was all mumble and buzz, and then more stars, and blackness and silence. Piecing together the fragments, as Johnny could not do, here is the interpretation.
Don't notice him if he looks you over, Buck. Benson is scared to death of every new-comer who rustles into Bland's camp. An' the reason, I take it, is because he's done somebody dirt. He's hidin'. Not from a sheriff or ranger! Men who hide from them don't act like Jackrabbit Benson. He's hidin' from some guy who's huntin' him to kill him.
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