In that way he reached the shelter of the oak, feeling certain that he had not been seen.
Through the screen of branches he looked out across the little valley, but he could not see any one at all, not even Mateo.

So he turned to his one solace, The Thunder Bird, and dusted it as carefully as a young girl dusts her new piano.

With a handful of waste he went over the motor, wiping it until it shone wherever shining was possible, and tried not to think of the man on the hillside.

That was Cliff's affair--until Johnny was ready to make the affair his.
"I wish I knew just what he's up to," Johnny fretted.

"If I just _knew_ something! I'd look like a boob now, wouldn't I, if the guards nabbed us?
They might try to pin most anything on me, and I wouldn't have any comeback.