things. He turned it over,
pondering upon the identity of the sender.
Irish brought him to
himself. The pint-size was standing in the door with a grip in his hand.
âLook at this,â said
Johnny.
Irish looked at it
with knitted brows. âWho do you suppose sent this? Whoâd be after that girl,
huh? Maybe we better ditch her.â
âWhat?â said Johnny,
getting ugly again. âYou make me sick. What kind of a guy are you, anyhow? Somebody
threatens you, so you get scared of your shadow. Havenât you any guts? Somebody
wants to knock off that girl. Huh, Iâd like to meet âem.â
Irish scratched his
head in wonderment. âYou couldnât be figured out by Einstein,â he decided. âOne
minute you tell her to get out, and then as soon as she gets like dynamite, you
want her to stick around. Contrary?!â
âShut up,â said
Johnny.
The girl was in the
door again and Johnny looked at her, frowning. âYou ever been to Idaho?â
âWhy . . . no.â
âYouâre goinâ,â said
Johnny. âGot any clothes?â
âNo.â
âIrish, go buy her
some clothes. . . . No, wait. Thatâll never do. Look, somebody might see you
buying them. This place might be watched.â
âWatched?â said the
girl.
Johnny got up and
handed her the note. She gave a start and her eyes grew very round. She
swallowed convulsively. A moment later she had composed herself.
âYouâre Irishâs size,â
said Johnny. âAnd your hair is short enough to put under a helmet. Irish, go
get her some of your clothes.â
âYou mean youâll take
me to Idaho?â she said, with relief.
âWhoâs after you, and
whatâs this all about?â demanded Irish.
âI . . . no, I canât
tell you. But youâve got to be careful. They . . . they would do anything.â
âWhat the hell are you
bullyinâ her for?â Johnny demanded of Irish. âGo get her some clothes, and stop
runninâ off at the mouth.â He took up the phone and got the airport wire.
âRun out the cabin
job , Steve. Weâre headed for Idaho.â
Chapter
Three
R OARING westward, Johnny Brice
had ample time both to look at and wonder about this strange girl who had so
suddenly become a part of his existence. When they stopped at Chicago, she was
under great tension, eyes constantly roving the field and striving to appear
unconcerned at the same time. That she labored under a heavy nerve strain was
very apparent when they took off once more and she sank back into her seat,
exhausted.
After that Johnny
watched her intently from his seat across the cabin, letting Irish do most of
the flying on the excuse that he, Johnny, was going to attempt some night shots
of the vast forest fire which stretched along half a mountain range and
imperiledâso the radio saidâsome five thousand lives if the wind changed. But
that would all take care of itself in due time, and it would be soon enough for
him to start worrying about saving their necks and getting the pictures at the
same time.
He watched the girl,
pretending to sleep, so that she would not again mask her real self. He was
taken, now that he studied her, with the delicacy of her features and the
smallness of her hands. Her honey-gold hair was delightfully realâand Johnny
knew henna when he saw it and appreciated not seeing it. In turn, oblivious of
his regard, she watched the country unroll below them, small ripples of
pleasure going through her at the variety of colors of the checkerboard earth,
of the dollhouse towns, always with their guardian church spires; it was
apparently all new to her. She watched their shadow striving mightily to keep
up with them, hastily leaping hedges and ditches, highways and hills. Still
believing herself unobserved, she pulled the table around on its hinged
brackets and took up the pencil there, writing slowly on a