There's some birds behind us I'm leading home first." "My God, don't go straight down again! It makes me sick," wailed Schwab.
"Does?
Oh, glory! That ain't nothing when you get used to it, man.
Be a regular guy and like it.

I'll _make_ you like it, by golly.

Come on, now--here's San Diego--let's give 'em a treat, sauerkraut.

You never knew you'd turn out to be a stunt flyer, hey?
Well, now, how's this ?" "Whee-ee! See the town right down there?
Head for it and keep a-goin', old girl! _Whee-ee_! Now, here it goes, sliding right up over our heads! Loop 'er, Thunder Bird, loop 'er! You're the little old plane from Arizona that's rode the thunder and made it growl it had enough! In Mexico I got yuh, and to Mexico you went and got me a regular jailbird that Uncle Sammy wants.

You're takin' him to camp--whoo-ee! Give your tail a flop and over yuh go like a doggone tumbleweed in the wind! "Come on, you little ole cop planes that thinks you're campin' on my trail! You'll have to ride and whip 'em, now I'm tellin' yuh, if you want to keep in sight of our dust! Sunfish for 'em, you doggone Thunder Bird! You're the flyin' bronk from Arizona, and it's your day to fly!" With the first loop Schwab went sick, and after that he had no wish except to die.