Small wonder that Johnny's thoughts dwelt upon little worries that could have no possible bearing upon the big things he meant to do.
How much would a new propeller cost?
Would all the barber shops be closed when they reached town?
He needed a haircut and a hot bath before he would feel fit to walk the streets.

Should he take at once the position he meant to maintain, and stop at the best hotel in town, as an aviator who owned the plane he flew and had a roll of money in his pocket might be expected to do?
Or should he go to some cheap rooming house and save a few dollars, and sink into obscurity among the city's strange thousands?
He remembered the headlines concerning him--front-page headlines that crowded Europe's war into second place! He had not seen anything much about himself lately, though the jailer had brought him a paper every morning.

Certainly his misfortune had not been given the prominence accorded to his disappearance.

If he should go to some good hotel and register as John Ivan Jewel, Tucson, Arizona, the reporters might remember the name.

Probably they would, and his arrival would be announced-- What would they think, if he walked in just as he was; leather coat, aviator's cap with the ear-tabs flapping, corduroy breeches tucked into riding boots that needed a shine and the heels straightened?
Would they put him out, or would they think he was so rich and famous he didn't give a darn?
He wondered what Mary V would think, if she knew that he was here in Los Angeles.