But Bland only shook his head slowly from right to left and back again.

Bland's ears were a waxy white now, and the line of his jaw had sharpened.

Johnny believed that Bland would fail him too.
They were gliding down an invisible incline, and it was a long way to Sinkhole.

Johnny began to think feverishly of certain sandy patches, bare of brush and rocks, and to estimate distances.

Now they crossed the line fence and were over the rough country below Red Hill and the plane was lifting and falling to the uneven currents like a boat riding the waves.
Gliding parallel with a dry tributary of Sinkhole Creek, the plane side-slipped and came perilously close to disaster.