And now he was awake, and the reality was of the full flavor of bitter herbs long steeped.
The forenoon had been full of achievement.

Johnny had, for safety's sake, removed the propeller from his airplane and carried it home with him, in the face of Bland Halliday's bitter whining and vituperation, which reminded Johnny of a snake that coils and hisses and yet does not strike.
It had been an awkward job, because he had been compelled to thrash Bland first, and then tie his hands behind him to prevent some treacherous blow from behind while he worked.

Johnny had hated to do that, but he felt obliged to do it, because Bland had found the buried gasoline and had taken away the full cans and hidden them, replacing them with the empty cans.

If Bland had not shown a town man's ignorance of the tale a man's tracks will tell, Johnny would never have suspected anything.
Bland had also threatened to wreck the plane for revenge, but Johnny did not worry about that.

He had retaliated with a threat to starve Bland until he repaired whatever damage he wrought--and Bland had seen the point, and had subsided into his self-pitying whine.
Johnny felt perfectly easy in his mind so far as the airplane was concerned.