Wings Over the Rockies; Or, Jack Ralston's New Cloud Chaser. Newcomb Ambrose
take him for a nice long ride – how swell that’d be – an’ all jest to please Mr. Oswald Kearns, the high light o’ most o’ the schemes hatched up to run in case goods from Bimimi along the Florida shore.”
Then Perk forgot his indignation long enough to grin as though the humorous side of the case struck him.
“Such great luck I never did see,” he burst out, “to think o’ you pickin’ up his telegram so pat after we’d kicked him an’ his slinkin’ pal off the lot. That’s what I’d call incriminatin’ evidence, partner and if ever the case is called an’ we’re sent down to Florida to tell ’bout our part o’ the mess, this message ought to make the jury sit up an’ take notice, sure as I’m born it ought”
“I’ll keep it safe, you can well believe, Perk and I’m not bothering my head about those two sneaks for they’re not apt to give us any further trouble after what happened to them tonight. When this Mr. Barkus discovers how he must have dropped his fine telegram, he’ll suspect it fell into our hands and the chances are he’ll give us a wide berth the rest of our stay in this burg.”
“Jest so Jack, an’ let’s hope we’re goin’ to climb out o’ here right soon now. The dirty scoundrels – wantin’ to give you a ride, was they? Which means in these days take a feller off into the country, knock him on the head an’ dump him out on the road like he was a log. Zowie! times is out o’ joint strikes me, when these pesky gangs think nothin’ o’ murderin’ a man ’cause they don’t like the color o’ his necktie.”
Cyclone had listened to this exchange of conversation between his two companions and the look on his face plainly told that he could not grasp what it was all about.
“I’d like to get a grip on what all this clatter’s about, boys, if neither of you object. I ought to be starting back to Hollywood in the morning for they’re shouting and sending hot wires telling me I’m holding up the show; but since I’m crazy to see that boat of yours, and you promised me a little gallop up among the clouds, I’m bound to wait over till afternoon, no matter what happens to the bunch on the Coast – they c’n use my understudy till I choose to lope along and be hanged to ’em. Now, what about putting me wise to the game that was sprung on you tonight?”
“Nothing to hinder our telling you what we ran up against down in Florida last winter,” remarked Jack and as they settled back in their chairs in comfort he explained all about the mixup as recorded in the previous volume of this series.
Cyclone proved an attentive listener, eagerly drinking in the particulars – nodding his head approvingly at certain points that appealed especially to his discriminating mind until the finishing stroke had been laid bare when he jumped up to shake hands boisterously with both Jack and Perk and to give vent to his feelings in words.
“By the great horn spoon! so that’s the bully sort of life you fellers in the Secret Service lead, is it?” he exclaimed with flashing eyes and an expression of eagerness on his enraptured face. “Some fine day, after I’ve had a few words with my director and told him where he gets off, I’ll be hanged if I don’t strike out for Washington and try to bore my way into the game you’re following – suits my spirit to the dot – lots of adventure, fair pay and the thrill of turning back these smart alecs who think they own the world because they’ve got a speed boat and the jack to buy a load of hard stuff in the Bahamas that they figure on landing along our coast.”
“That mightn’t be such a bad idea, Cyclone, for a man built like you and who yearns for excitement,” observed Jack sympathetically, for he could understand just how the other must feel. “When you get to that point of kicking over the traces in the picture game let me know and perhaps I can speak a good word for you at Headquarters. They’re always in need of the right sort of men. Remember that, will you, Cyclone?”
“You bet I will Jack, and I mean every word I say, too. I’ve never gone up in an airship yet, but the desire’s been gripping me a heap lately and perhaps, after I make the try tomorrow morning, that you’ve so kindly promised me, the fever’ll get so high I just won’t be able to hold back any longer.”
“That depends on how you come through your examination,” Jack plainly explained. “A lot of boys have an itch to make the riffle, but are turned down because they lack some one of a dozen requirements that are positively essential these modern days to get a pilot’s license. But as far as I can see, you ought to pass with flying colors – no joke intended either.”
They sat there chatting for several hours. Cyclone’s enthusiasm fairly bubbled over at times as he listened to some of the accounts of adventures that had befallen both Jack and Perk in days gone by.
“The more I hear from you boys the sicker I get over the way I’m wasting my young life with foolish cowboy stunts and make believe fights in the pictures. It’s pretty much a fake business and gets on my nerves – even many of the most thrilling scenes are fakes of the worst kind – pulling the wool over the eyes of the simple public. I got a notion I’m built for something that’s genuine and not a fraud – when you lads get into a mess it’s the real thing and you can put your heart in the action without a director yelling at you and ordering it all done over – sometimes as many as five times, till his royal highness is satisfied and you’re all worn to a shred with the hard work. Bah! me for the open and a life of genuine adventure, every time.”
“Je-ru-salem crickets! but you have got it bad, partner!” croaked Perk grinning happily as he spoke. “Goin’ are you, Cyclone? – well, we’ll pick you up about nine on the way to the flyin’ field. So-long – mighty glad we run across you tonight and had a chance to see how you work, them fists o’ yourn. The Service could make good use o’ a few real scrappers and I’d say the chance o’ you buttin’ in is gilt-edged.”
So closed a day that was not without its redeeming features, even Perk being satisfied that things were moving along the line of adventure and excitement.
VI
CYCLONE PROVES GAME
In the morning after they had partaken of a late breakfast, Jack and his pal stepped around the corner to get a taxi, pick up Cyclone as per arrangement and proceed out to the flying field.
“For one thing,” Perk was remarking as they stepped gaily along, “we ain’t noticed any sign o’ them gringoes we licked so neat last night. Guess they had their little tummies filled up with excitement and right now may be rubbin’ arnica on their hurts. Wow! but I’d hate to’ve got them socks Cyclone passed on to his party – must have near broke his nose for I saw his face was gettin’ fair bloody when he was snatched up and tossed into the car.”
They found the ex-fighter and cow puncher waiting anxiously for them, he having been abroad early and had his customary morning meal. Later on they arrived at the landing field and found everything “okay” as Perk put it. He had confessed to a little anxiety concerning the safety of their ship but the man they had hired to stand guard had not seen or heard anything suspicious during the entire night.
“Huh! guess they feel too blamed sore this mornin’ to be up an’ around,” was the sensible conclusion arrived at by Perk after his fears had been dissipated and in this summing up of the conditions he was seconded by Jack, likewise their mutual friend, Cyclone Davis.
It was Jack’s custom to always have his ship in condition for an immediate flight – there could be no telling how soon an order might reach them giving directions for a hasty takeoff with their goal any old place as Perk was accustomed to remarking off-hand.
Consequently there was always a full tank of gas on board together with plenty of lubricating oil and all manner of essential things so necessary to a successful flight. Of course, as a rule they could drop down at some wayside landing field for the purpose of replenishing their stores since the whole country was becoming dotted with such necessary places, some of them gorgeously fitted up with everything in the way of landing lights, extra hangars for visiting ships and even service plants for supplying gasoline with little effort.
Cyclone displayed no actual concern as he was secured in his seat by a stout leather strap, having also