Eagles of the Sky: or, With Jack Ralston Along the Air Lanes

“That would be a clue worth while, I’d say,” Perk asserted warmly, his eyes flashing with renewed zeal as though he might be telling himself they must be getting on a pretty warm scent which would soon lead them to the party they sought above every one else–the capitalist whose word was law, and whose money purchased all the supplies, from liquor and vessels to aircraft and everything else needful for carrying on their business of swindling the Government through the Treasury Department.

Just as he always did in forestalling any likely move when an important case was placed in the hands of himself and Jack, Perk was already engaged in mentally spreading the net destined to gather in the chief culprits–the outlook promised a multitude of warm episodes calculated to stir the blood to fever heat and afford him the wild excitement without which life lost much of its charm–in his eyes at least.

The pulsating throb of the old engine aboard the sloop had long since ceased to make itself heard, so that they could with reason believe McGrath and his pal well on the way to their distant goal, with no sign of stormy weather to be seen in the southwestern heavens.

“How ’bout spendin’ the night here, partner?” Perk queried, as he sat contentedly smoking his favorite pipe after the manner of a man who had good reason to congratulate himself on the close of a perfect day.

“I was just thinking that over, Perk. We might be in a worse situation than this, if locality was all that mattered. I don’t believe the ’gators would keep us awake with their splashing and roaring along towards early morning, but then I’m a bit bothered thinking of the man who skipped out after having his little machine-gun duel with you.”

“You’re jest crampin’ my style when you say that, partner,” complained Perk. “That Oscar happens to be a German, we both know, an’ from what I learned about the breed when over there, they’re some obstinate, once they get workin’ in a game–hate to give it up wuss’n pizen.”

“I see you’re of the same opinion as myself, buddy,” Jack remarked, nodding his head. “You reckon there might be some chance for him to pick up a bunch of his mates and swing back here to do a little bombing on his own account. Well, we’re not hankering to try our own medicine, not if we know it, and on that account I think we’d be wise to pull out of this and find a new refuge–perhaps on some lake back from the coast where we might pick up something interesting in our line.”

“Je-ru-salem crickets! I kinder guess now you’ve got somethin’ danglin’ back o’ them words old hoss,” broke out the newly interested Perk, showing considerable animation. He was used to most of Jack’s habits and could in many instances tell that something lay hidden back of his word–something of a character to promise great happenings when followed to a finish.

That seemingly casual mention of a freshwater lake was not made without some deep meaning–Jack must have been told something very important by the Government official with whom he had gone into conference at Tampa and this was his sly way of starting Perk’s wits to working overtime in the endeavor to figure things out.

“Wait and see what’s in the wind, Perk,” said the head pilot, with a chuckle. “I promise to let you into all I know or suspect before a great while passes. Just now I’ll own up this scheme of slipping over to a certain sheet of fresh water for a change of base has a meaning that connects with our big game of Blind Man’s Buff.”

This seemed to square things with Perk, for he beamed as though pleased. Whatever Jack decided was always all right in his eyes because he felt certain that the bright mind of his comrade just could not make a blunder.

“When do we hop-off, then?” he said.

“Oh, when the moon shows up will be plenty of time,” came the ready answer. “Our objective isn’t so very far distant and you know we can make a hundred miles an hour if necessary. I’d like to pick up a bit of my lost sleep while we wait, unless you object to standing sentry.”

“Not me, matey, I managed to snooze some during the time you were away. Lucky I had everything fixed for company and wasn’t caught nappin’ when our friend Oscar tipped his hat an’ made his bow. Now I was wonderin’ if he had that ole quick-firin’ gun away back when he was riddlin’ things along in the Argonne–wouldn’t it be a queer thing if true? He knew how to rattle that cantankerous bus to beat the band an’ he did nick me in that silly o’ ear o’ mine that keeps on gettin’ in the way every time I have a little spat with a sassy guy.”

Perk insisted on his chum making himself as comfortable as possible, considering the cramped quarters they occupied in the cluttered cabin of their ship, which continued to keep up a soothing movement with the successive waves that worked in from the open gulf inclining a sleepy person to slumber.

“I’ll jest sit here an’ ruminate while I consume my tobacco,” announced the accommodating Perk, making light of his job. “Once in so often I’ll take a look skyward with the glasses, so’s to know if there’s any chance o’ Oscar comin’ back here to try it all over again. When the moon peeps up in the east yonder I’ll put a hand on your arm, so’s to let you know it’s near time. Go to it, partner–do your stuff.”

Jack was feeling pretty tired, since he had enjoyed mighty little decent sleep from one cause or another during the last few nights. It was not at all surprising, therefore, that he should be in slumberland before five minutes passed after he and Perk had exchanged the last word.

The self-posted sentinel did just as he had promised, every little while he would quietly stand up and with the glasses take a keen observation, covering the blue vault above from one horizon to another, then, finding all serene, he would silently resume his seat, with only a sigh to indicate how he felt. Once more he filled his everlasting pipe, began to puff delightedly, and finally lay back in a half reclining position to smoke it out.

He was a great hand at ruminating, as he called it–allowing his thoughts to travel back to events that may have occurred months, and even years before, but which had been of such a nature as to fix themselves in his memory most tenaciously. This afforded him solid enjoyment, together with the charm of his adored pipe and he asked for nothing better.

Thus an hour, two of them, and more passed, with nothing out-of-the-way taking place to attract his attention. He figured that if the pilot of the Curtiss-Robin crate intended to come back that night, he was subject to some sort of delay.

There was frequent splashing in the lagoon near by–at times Perk could tell it must be caused by jumping mullet, but on other occasions the sound being many times exaggerated, he reckoned it had been made by an alligator plunging off a log into the water, either alarmed by some sound further off, or else possessed of a desire to enter a secret underwater den he laid claim to. This would probably have a second entrance, or exit, up on some hummock that Perk had failed to discover when poking around on the preceding day hunting green stuff with which to conceal the deck of the sloop.

Suddenly Perk noticed a slim streak of pale light fall athwart the propeller blade just before him and looking hastily up discovered the smiling face of the moon–a bit battered it is true, for the silvery queen of night was just then on the wane.

It was high time they were moving and making for the goal Jack had mentioned as an inland lake, though at no time did he give the name by which it was known to the settlers and tourists who flocked to Florida during the late Fall and early Winter. So he touched Jack on the shoulder, just he he had promised he would do, nor did he have to give the slightest shake for the other stirred and raised his head, showing he was wide awake.

CHAPTER XVI

THE LOCKHEED-VEGA FLYING SHIP

“Moon coming up, partner!” was all Perk said.

“Then it’s time we were moving,” Jack told him as he started to stretch his cramped arms and yawn. “Feel a heap better now after that little nap and ready for what’s coming.”

They did not have much to do, since everything was in perfect condition for hopping-off–trust Jack for that, with his slogan of “be prepared.”

“All set, Perk?” asked the pilot, presently.

“Shoot!” was the terse answer.

The bright moon would have to take the place of the customary equipment of a landing field in the way of guidelights, markers, and search-lights, but there was no necessity for so much light with the channel before him along which he could taxi unerringly, until, arriving at the point where the great gulf stretched out toward the western horizon, the speed must be advanced for the take-off.

Now they were free from the mangroves and Jack accelerated the pace of his ship accordingly–two twin foam-crested waves rolled out from the pontoons as they sped along until, testing things, Jack found that his charge was impatient to leave the water and leap upward into space.

Perk looked backward toward the scene of his amazing afternoon battle–how many times in the future would the picture rise in his memory to haunt him and bring that quizzical grin to his face.

With the newly risen moon gilding the small waves of the gulf below them, the picture looked most peaceful. Perk, although not much inclined to romance, could not but admire the spectacle after his own rude fashion while Jack fairly drank it in as he continued to pay attention to his manifold duties.

Their course was almost due north, Jack keeping out a score or more of miles from the coast, having reasons of his own for so doing–perhaps he found the wind more favorable out there and this is always an important factor in the calculations of a pilot of experience. Just as in the earlier days of ocean steamers when they were also equipped with masts and sails, the latter were always hoisted when the wind favored, since this helped them make progress and saved coal at the same time.

They had been booming along for something like half an hour when watchful Perk, the observer, made a discovery worth while he believed. He communicated with his companion, the useful earphones chancing to be in place–trust Perk for that.

“Somethin’ doin’ out there to the west, partner–look up to a higher ceilin’ an’ you’ll see it. Headin’ to cross over our trail in the bargain, I guess.”

“A crate, all right,” commented Jack, whose quick eyesight had immediately picked up the moving object.

“Looks like it might a come all the way across the gulf–d’ye think from some Mexican port, Jack?”

“Like as not,” assented the other. “These crooks make a start from any one of a score of jumping-off places, but always with a specified landing field ahead.”

“Then you figger,” continued Perk, “he might be one o’ the gang, fetchin’ Chinks across or mebbe precious stones, bought in Paris, and shipped to Mexico on the way to New York, eh, partner?”

“Chances are three to one that’s what it means,” Jack told him.

Perk continued to wield his important binoculars and presently, when the lofty plane was passing over, he stated his opinion.

“’Taint him, anyway, that’s dead sure, Jack, I guess I ought to know a Lockheed-Vega crate, no matter how far away, or by what tricky moonlight either, ’cause you see I used to run one o’ that breed for nearly a year when I took a whirl at the air-mail business up north out o’ Chicago till I had a bad crash an’ quit cold.”

“That settles it then, partner,” said the pilot, still observing the speck swinging past out of the tail of his eye. “I hadn’t any idea it could be the same chap you had your little picnic with some hours back, for you told me he’d blown off toward the east.”

“Jest what he did,” replied the observer. “Ginger pop! but what wouldn’t I give right now to know jest whar that galoot was meanin’ to drop down, once he gets over the land. How ’bout that, old hoss?”

“It might help out considerable,” admitted Jack although not as much interested as Perk considered he might be. “We’ll sift things out in good time, and for all we know, run across a few surprises in the bargain.”

Perk studied that last part for a minute, feeling almost certain Jack had some deep meaning back of his words, but it proved too much for his capacity in the line of figuring out mysteries, and so he dropped it “like a hot potato,” as he told himself.

The mysterious air voyager had by now disappeared entirely, although they might still have caught the throbbing of his madly working motor had it not been for their own engine kicking up so much racket, Jack not being inclined to make use of the capable silencer just then.

Perk had made up his mind that the unknown aviator, even if other than Oscar Gleeb, was undoubtedly working the same profitable line of business as the pilot of the Curtiss-Robin ship. So, too, Perk considered it worth while to try and figure out the exact course of the high flyer as he was probably making directly for his intended goal and this knowledge was likely to prove useful to them later on.