The Sky Pilot's Great Chase; Or, Jack Ralston's Dead Stick Landing. Newcomb Ambrose
jinks! partner, does it look to you like some crazy snooper set fire to the hangar under the belief that our ship was locked in there?”
“Between you and me and the lamp-post, buddy, that just struck me as possible, though I’ve no proof to back me up in saying it.”
“Another o’ them slick hunches o’ yourn, eh partner?” Perk hastened to say and then, scratching his chin in a way he had when seriously considering some debatable proposition that puzzled him very much, he added: “can’t for the love o’ mike guess how anybody could learn jest who an’ what we might be but it’s a risky line we’re engaged in, buddy, an’ some o’ these here smart crooks have accomplices they say even in the service o’ Uncle Sam. It’s possible a whisper leaked out an’ havin’ some fish to fry, word was sent to some o’ the big gang out here at Salt Lake City to do for us, or wipe our ship off the face o’ the earth instanter. Gee whiz! but that sure does make things look mixed-up for us, ol’ hoss.”
“For one thing,” said Jack, firmly, “after this I never mean to leave our boat in a strange hangar without hiring a guard to watch over it every hour of every night, no matter what the cost to Uncle Sam. I reckon they keep some insurance on these crates, but it would be what time and instruments and charts we lost that would knock us the hardest.”
“But how could anybody know what sorter job we’re goin’ to wrestle with next, even ’fore we got a glimmer o’ it ourselves?” querulously demanded the bewildered Perk, up in the air again apparently for there seemed to be a vast number of things of which he was densely ignorant.
Jack laughed and shook his head.
“Some fine day perhaps we’ll get on the inside track of these strange doings, brother but right now I’m just as much in the dark as you. All I know is that for some little time rumors have been going around at and close to Headquarters but so far as I understand the matter up to lately, the mysterious party responsible for such give-aways hasn’t been located. So it’s within the bounds of reason for me to suspect we’ve fallen under the ban and have had some sort of secret enemy set on our track.”
“Huh!” snorted Perk indignantly, “kinder like that Oswald Kearns employed one o’ his critters to do us a bad turn – you know, that big rum-runner we nailed down in Florida not so very long back an’ whose trial hasn’t come along so far, we’ve heard.”
“Just like that,” Jack told him, “although I hardly believe it could be any of his dirty work. Still, it’s going to pay us to keep our eyes peeled right along and never imagine the coast is clear just because we don’t happen to see any ugly character around. Such scamps usually manage to hide themselves daytimes, to slip out after dark and do their tricks.”
Soon afterwards they had tooled their ship to the runway close at hand, made the dash, and started skyward like a bird. For two hours they tried out various capers so as to make certain they had complete control of the wonderful amphibian that had been placed at Jack’s disposal by those at the Secret Service Bureau in Washington, intent on equipping their trusted agents with the best going, so that no failure might be laid at their door due to insufficient backing.
They were back again by one that same afternoon, it being against Jack’s better judgment to remain away more than a few hours at a time. He knew that at any day a message from Washington, in secret cipher, was apt to come along and which, for aught he knew, would call for them to start out without any unnecessary delay and he wished to be on hand to receive it.
To save time he and Perk dropped into the dining room of the hotel without visiting the office so they might have dinner before going up to their room. This was pretty much of a daily habit with them and so far there had not been any disadvantage arising from the arrangement.
They had almost finished their dessert when one of the bellhops came along and being familiar with the pair from rubbing up against them so often, he asked no questions but laid down a telegraph envelope addressed to Mr. John Jacob Astorbilt.
“Gosh!”
That was all Perk could gasp when he saw that presumably the orders they had been expecting for so long must have arrived. He watched Jack reach out and pick up the sealed envelope – noted that there did not seem to be the slightest quiver of his hand – indeed, if it were an ordinary dunning epistle Jack could not have acted more carelessly – so far as outward manifestations showed – than was the case just then.
He opened the envelope and then, still as cool as a cucumber grown in the shade of a cornstalk, drew out the enclosure which Perk’s devouring eyes told him was unusually long.
Food was quite forgotten – for once – by the enthralled Perk who sat there, fascinated, watching Jack’s face as though in anticipation of being able to tell from what he might read there something of the nature of the communication that had been telegraphed from far distant Washington.
It was quite useless, however. Had Jack been glancing over a casual invitation to some party he could not have evinced more unconcern. Of course the message was so fashioned that in order to glean its full meaning a recourse to his code would be necessary but then as Perk knew, Jack would be able to pick up a word here and there and in this way get an inkling as to its purport.
VII
PERK HEARS THRILLING NEWS
“On your way, partner – gimme a clue to save me from crashin’!” begged poor Perk, his wits in a huddle that would have made any football enthusiast take a back seat.
“It’s our order to get busy, okay,” said Jack with a gleam in his eyes his pal loved to see, since it meant action and plenty of it.
“Where bound, for the love o’ mike?” continued the other.
“I’ve made out one name here which may be our destination, Perk.”
“Yeah?”
“Spokane,” he was told at which Perk lifted his eyebrows as if to denote more or less surprise, likewise disappointment.
“Huh! ’bout a short day’s flyin’ from this joint,” was the way the ambitious Perk voiced his feelings, just as if his expectations had been taking wings and soaring across the Pacific or some such long distance.
“Go slow, brother,” his mate advised him, “give me half a chance to make this puzzle out – so far I’ve caught just a word or two here and there. From the size of this message there’s a heap back of it. If you’re done stoking, let’s pass up to our den where I can get out my code and decipher this thing.”
Perk was out of his chair in a jiffy.
“I’m with you, laddie so let’s get a move on. I kinder guess now I’ll jump out o’ this here lowdown fit in a hurry, once we get goin’.”
He already looked a hundred per cent more awake than he had been for several days and Jack chuckled as he led the way to the elevator, knowing how new life had been pumped into his chum’s veins by the receipt of the order to go.
Once seated in the room they shared in common, Jack took his secret code from its hiding place and set to work in earnest. Perk could see him writing down word after word and filling in vacant places. The minutes fairly dragged like lead to the impatient one and when Jack sat back, nodding his head as if wholly satisfied, the other again begged him to lift the lid and give him a peep-in.
“What’s the matter at Spokane? Some o’ them Bolshevik miners broke loose over in Idaho an’ threatenin’ to kick up general hell again like they’ve done so many times?”
“A rotten guess brother,” Jack told him. “Nobody said we were going to stop long at Spokane – just ordered to look up a certain party there who’d pass on a bunch of information he’s been collecting this long while back and so help us on our way.”
Perk beamed again, as though quite a load had been lifted from his chest.
“Sounds better to me, ol’ hoss,” he hastened to say. “An’ tell me, where do we go from Spokane?”
“Due north!”