Johnny swerved a little to the westward, to avoid a series of washes and deep gullies and small ridges between that might affect the smooth flight of the plane.

On and on and on, boring steadily through the air that rushed to meet them--or so it seemed.
Far ahead, lumped on a brushless level which Johnny knew of old, a little, milling cluster of antlike creatures attracted Johnny's eye.
He watched it a minute, knew it for a horse round-up, and chuckled to himself.

The Rolling R boys--and revenge for the sneers and the fleers they had given him when he had only dared to _dream_ of flying.

He wanted to tell Mary V, but then he thought that Mary V's eyes were as sharp as his.

Yes, her fingers reluctantly loosened their hold and she tried to point--and had her hand swept backward by the wind.