At that moment, Bob called to him. Jack turned. Mr. Hampton already
had entered the airplane. They were waiting for him. Once more he
seized Rafaela's hand.
"Remember," he said, so low that only her ears could hear his words,
"you haven't seen the last of me."
She cast him an arch glance.
"Senor Jack is improving," she whispered. "He will be a courtier yet."
Then Jack climbed into his seat. A mechanic started the propeller, the
machine began to bump over the ground, and presently it was in the air
and climbing.
Bob spiralled upward until they were high above the ranch, and the
figures below seemed little manikins. Jack believed he could
distinguish Rafaela waving a lacy handkerchief, and leaned far over
the side to wave in reply.
Then they were off, zooming through the air, straight as an arrow for
the international boundary and the Hampton ranch beyond. The flight
was brief. Bob covered the distance of 150 miles in considerably less
than two hours.
"Look here," he said to his father, after greetings had been
exchanged, and the latter had thumped his big son so hard and often
that Bob dodged when further "love taps" came his way. "I'm not going
to stay here to be pounded into a jelly.
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