In all the country around Johnny could see no other hilltop that in the least resembled this, so it did not seem to him likely that he would ever miss his way when he travelled the air lanes.
For awhile he sat gazing out over the country, which seemed a succession of green valleys, hidden from one another by high hills or wooded ridges.

Mexico lay before him, across the valley and a hill or two--fifteen miles, Cliff Lowell had told him.

It would be extremely simple to fly straight toward this particular hill, circle, and land down there in front of the oak.

Cliff had spoken of risk, bat Johnny could not see much risk here.

It must be across the line, he thought.
Still, Cliff had said he had friends there, which did not sound like danger.