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"Mhm-hmh busted skid," he observed, in a tone which, to the brother of Tomaso, shaved several dollars off the coveted fifty. Close behind Johnny he stayed, following him around the plane in a secret agony of apprehension. Johnny, primed by the two rides he had taken for a price the fall before, stepped nimbly up and straddled into the pilot's seat.
He found out, by actual experimentation, what wires tilted the ailerons, which ones operated the elevators. "Mhm-hmh dep control here," he commented; whereupon the brother of Tomaso squirmed, thinking Johnny had discovered a fatal flaw somewhere. With one eye still squinted against cigarette smoke that did not rise, Johnny climbed out and walked back along the fuselage to the tail.
"Mhm-hmh I thought so!" he ejaculated, staring severely at the elevators. "This is bad pret-ty darn bad! They musta done a tail-slide and pancaked. That's ba-ad." He removed the smokeless cigarette from his lips, looked at it, felt for a match, and shook his head slowly while he drew the match across a hot rock at his feet.
There's quite a good-sized reward offered for his arrest in case he ever does get back on our side of the line." "Mhm-hmh I see," said Johnny, in his best, round-eyed judicial manner. "Yes. He's a criminal of several sorts, among them the crime of meddling with the government. He's over there now where he can do the most harm. "Y-ess he's over there now," Johnny agreed guardedly.
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