Bland spiraled upward, waiting to see what Johnny wanted next.

Whatever it might be, Bland would do it--with two guns and a headstrong young man just behind him.
The thrum of the motor stuttered a little on the last upward turn.

Bland straightened out the plane, fussed with the spark and the gas, banked cautiously around and headed for home.

Like a heart that skips a beat now and then, an odd little pause, scarcely to be distinguished except when the ear has become accustomed to the rhythm of perfect firing, manifested itself.

Bland turned his head sidewise, listening.