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

Now they could get faint glimpses of the little cove, which the visiting planes were wont to use as a hiding place, taxiing thither after splashing down on the surface of the nearby lake.

Perk made a mental note of the fact that the cove was quite empty, no hostile crate bobbing up and down on the water–possibly this induced the dreamer to indulge in a hope that should the occasion warrant such a thing, they might taxi their own ship around and make use of that snug harbor safe from any ordinary gale that chanced to strike treacherous Okeechobee.

Now they could see the light much better and even make out that it came from a certain window of the coquina shack–up to then Perk acknowledged to himself that he had not known whether the modest little building boasted of windows or not, having discovered no evidence of their presence.

So, too, he now made but a certain dark spot just beyond the shack which he strongly suspected might be the well shed of which the more observant Jack had spoken earlier in one of their pow-wows.

Now that he found himself so near the spot where it seemed likely he could refresh his dry throat with a cup of fresh water, Perk was growing wild with the eager desire to be doing so. He Wondered whether his companion could have forgotten his promise and even opened his mouth to remind him concerning it but thought better of it for already Jack had changed the line of his advance and was beginning to steer his pal in the direction of the well.

In order not to take any unnecessary chances it was found that they must make a little detour in order to get past that shaft of light proceeding from the window in the rear of the shack. Perk even begrudged the brief time taken in making this half circuit, though recognizing the wisdom governing Jack’s change of course. He dared not try to whisper now, lest his hoarseness cause him to make a sound so harsh and loud that it might be carried to hostile ears and be the cause of their undoing.

Then, after another delay when Jack imagined he had caught a suspicious little scratching sound, as of something moving, they drew up on hands and knees alongside what seemed to be a rustic shelter covering an opening with a real windlass, rope and all, to fill Perk’s heart with joy in the belief that his throat was in a fair way of having its roughness relieved in short order.

CHAPTER XXV

PERK DEMANDS MORE WATER

It was queer what chanced to be passing through the mind of Jack Ralston while they were thus creeping toward the little well in the rear of the lonesome shack on the bank of Okeechobee. He had been reading a novel that was supposed to cover the famous and successful attempt on the part of General Fred Funston to penetrate the mighty wilderness in the north of Luzon, the main island of the Philippine group and effect the capture of the native rebel chieftain, Aguinaldo who, with some of his associates, had taken refuge in a lonely cabin at a most inaccessible point.

So vividly had the author described the manner in which the soldier and his companions crept up when making ready to seize their prey, that it was still haunting the mind of the airman and somehow the conditions just then confronting himself and Perk seemed to be very similar. He only hoped they would prove to be just as successful in their mission as Funston was when he carried Aguinaldo back to Manila, and thus broke the backbone of the native uprising against the authority of Uncle Sam.

Perk was already reaching out toward the bucket he discovered perched on the rocky border of the well. Jack could hear him give a chuckle of satisfaction on rinding it half full of water and felt himself a bit tickled to see the way in which his chum proceeded to greedily fill up with the precious liquid.

Little Perk cared if the water chanced to be stale–he had no complaint coming on that score as long as his parched throat and tongue came in for a good soaking and the choking sensation was immediately relieved.

Perk must have suddenly remembered his lapse of manners, for in the midst of his drinking spree he stopped short and stepped back as though to invite his comrade to take his turn.

This Jack showed no hesitation in doing, drinking long and with considerable ardor though he knew when to stop, which was what Perk did not for no sooner had the other released his hold on the bucket than Perk took another turn.

In the end Jack was compelled to almost drag the other away from the well possibly for fear he burst or else some one come out of the shack and discover them prowling there, unwelcome intruders on Oswald Kearns’ privacy and a positive threat to his peace of mind.

It was hardly a time and place for doing any talking, no matter how subdued their voices. Jack kept hold of the other’s arm and thus started to steer him in the direction of the lighted window.

Perk must have guessed what his pal had in mind for he made no resistance whatever, just allowed himself to be steered as his comrade wished. Stooping down they crawled past, and then closer until they could begin to glimpse the interior of the room where the light was dispelling the darkness.

The first thing that struck Jack was the fact that the place had been fixed up with an eye to comfort–it looked almost luxurious with its easy chairs and imported rugs that must have cost a considerable sum. Evidently Oswald Kearns had been too long accustomed to comfort to deny himself such luxuries even when seeking seclusion in this out-of-the-way retreat.

Then Jack found himself looking upon the man who had for years been one of the greatest mysteries the Treasury Department at Washington had ever endeavored to trap, He was sitting in a big leather-covered easy-chair, smoking a cigar and busily engaged with a sheaf of important looking papers. From time to time he would refer to a volume that had the appearance of a ledger or account book and to which he seemed to attach great importance.

How the sight sent a succession of thrills through the whole being of the Secret Service sleuth–here he found himself within arms length of the master crook who had laughed to scorn all previous efforts of the Government to take him with the goods on.

Vainly had every possible attempt been made to catch him off his guard; he had proved himself to be too crafty for the best revenue officers put upon his track. And when failure after failure became the rule, the Big Boss had decided to change the policy they had hitherto followed and put an air pilot on the job as being able to go swiftly and easily where others had been so cleverly balked.

Then Jack began to wonder where the other two men might be, for thus far he had failed to discover either in the room of the lighted window. Could it be possible both of them had sailed away aboard that Lockheed-Vega ship, bent on some important mission which the Master had entrusted to their care?

He could not bring himself to believe this possible–that he against whom so many hostile hands were raised would be willing to stay all by himself in such a lonesome place unless it seemed unavoidable. One or both of those aids must be somewhere around.

Just the same he could see no other room connected with the stone building–it was always possible, however, that there might be another shack–perhaps a crude palmetto-leaf hut, such as the poor whites in the backwoods lived in, somewhere not far away that served them for a shelter when it rained or a bustling Norther came howling down from the regions of snow and ice and zero temperatures.

Jack had about reached this conclusion when he discovered a figure, covered with a fancy Navajo blanket, on a cot in a corner of the place–yes, there was a head on a sofa pillow such as would be more in place over at the beautiful Miami estate than here in such a desolate region.

Somehow he quickly assumed this must be the shorter party–which would go to prove the other fellow might have accompanied the pilot of the departed airship.

When he had decided this to his entire satisfaction, Jack was able to figure on certain matters. It undoubtedly meant that he and Perk would have just two pitted against them in case things came to a showdown, making it an even fight with victory perching on the side that was quickest at the draw.

He seemed to remember every warning he had received in connection with not under-rating this remarkable man, so greedy for excitement that wealthy though he was, he would seek all manner of thrilling adventures just to have the laugh on the Government, especially the Secret Service men toward whom he was said to entertain a feeling of almost wolfish hatred.

So too, did Jack take note of every object spread before his searching gaze in the shack where Oswald Kearns seemed to be busying himself in the pleasing occupation of making up his secret accounts.

That book, as well as the sheaf of papers rather fascinated the watcher outside the window–somehow Jack conceived the idea that there before him was spread all the incriminating evidence needful to bring the erratic career of this amazing man to an abrupt end–to put a stop to the mammoth illegal operations he had so long conducted in secret and by which he had impudently flaunted all the powers in Washington, just as though he had sent them a message worded, “Well, what are you going to do about it? Break up this fine game if you can.”

If only they were able to get him fast in the net before he could make any attempt to destroy that book and those papers–Jack felt convinced a generous Fortune had not allowed him to see such a prize only to snatch it out of his reach through fire or some similar means of destruction.

But here was Perk pulling at his sleeve as though he had a communication of the utmost importance to pass along. Accordingly, Jack, who himself was ready to effect a change of base so that speedy action might be decided on, moved back from the window.

“What is it, Perk?” he whispered, at which the other began to make suggestive gestures toward his throat, and nod his head violently.

“I c’n feel it comin’ on again, partner–the ticklin’ feelin’ you know, an’ I’m afraid I’ll start acoughin’ to beat the band–must have more drink.”

It seemed nothing could be done until Perk’s sensitive throat had been properly attended to, so once more they crept and trailed along until the vicinity of the well had been reached. Here Perk started to swill, as though his capacity for holding water had no limit. It was just at this particular moment, when both of them were hanging over the well curb that a shaft of light suddenly enveloped them as the back door of the shack opened and the figure of the short man came in sight with a new tin or aluminum bucket in his hand as though his purpose was to get a supply of fresh water.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE FIGHT AT THE WELL

“Gosh!”

Perk hissed this one word even as he ducked down behind the well curbing at sight of the figure in the doorway. Jack was not a breath behind him, both acting through mere intuition or instinct.

Whether they had been seen was the important question flashing through the mind of each. There was no sudden outcry which seemed a favorable sign, Jack decided and the short, muscular man was even then emerging from the interior of the shack, evidently bent on replenishing the drinking water supply.

Perk thrust his eager hand into the pocket of his leather jacket to grip his automatic with the idea that he would be needing it before many more seconds had ticked off. In his mind he entertained a comprehensive view of what their plan of action would most likely be–to down this husky chap, either by means of a blow or else a bit of lead delivered where it would do the most good–then a swift rush into the shack and crushing the ex-war veteran before he could fully grasp the meaning of it all.

Easy enough to figure it out after this manner, but there must be considerable chance that matters would not work so smoothly. For one thing it must be considered that Oswald Kearns was no weakling, but a more or less athletic figure, accustomed to feats of strength and agility beyond the measure of an ordinary man. Then, too, he was known to be irrational, even to the length of being considered dangerous when thoroughly aroused and it went without saying that he must always be well armed for in his reckless way of living he must many times be in close touch with desperate characters, some of whom might conceive it worth while to plot against his liberty, with a heavy ransom in their mind’s eye.

It was quite too late for either of them to think of slipping off, since the light from the interior of the shack poured through the open door and dissipated the friendly darkness in that especial vicinity.

Consequently all they could do was to continue to crouch there in the shadow of the well curbing, and await whatever was scheduled to come to pass.

If Perk had been so eagerly praying for something to breeze along that would give him the thrill he loved so well, his wish seemed well on the road of being realized since everything was set for a dramatic discovery with its attendant speedy action.

It was apparent that after all the man could not have glimpsed their vanishing faces as they ducked so swiftly, for he continued to advance in the direction of the well and Perk could hear him softly singing, just as though he might be a “musical cuss,” as Perk told himself with one of his customary chuckles since his first stab of alarm had passed off under the realization that they had another chance.

Jack, too, was telling himself what a peculiar state of affairs had come upon the stage–here, with an ambush lying in wait before him, this man could step blithely along, swinging his aluminum bucket and softly warbling one of the most recent hits from a comic opera–Jack had himself heard the song on the boards of a great metropolitan theatre in New York–had even caught himself whistling the catchy air more than a few times since.

The man who seemed to be so well pleased with his fortunes while basking in the favor of the wealthy chief of smugglers had a little surprise waiting for him at the end of his rainbow–if those lurking shadowy figures knew their business and managed it as they should, he would be singing quite a different air before a great while, perhaps interlarding his humming with a choice variety of expletives concerning the cruelty of Fate.

A few more steps and he would have reached the well–then what must take place? Perk was asking himself as he crouched there, his muscles set and his breath coming in little noiseless gasps–he resembled nothing so much as a cat ready poised to make a deadly leap upon a fat robin struggling with a worm that it had pulled halfway out of its hole.