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

There was not one chance in twenty that the man could actually reach the well, drop the bucket down, switch it around in order to induce water to enter and then make use of the windlass so as to draw it to the top, without discovering the presence of those two huddled forms; so Perk did not deceive himself in the least with any extravagant hopes of the affair passing off smoothly and their plans being uninterrupted.

Now the man had set his pail down and was giving the well bucket a switch as though intending to dislodge any stale water it might contain. From this little incident Jack understood that undoubtedly the man must himself have left the water they had used up in the bucket when last at the well and subconsciously remembered the fact.

He went about the job of lowering the rope with the manner of one quite familiar with the necessary movements, pulling the rope from the barrel of the windlass hand over hand. Then there came a splash, a gurgle and following these symptoms of success the man, with a jerk at the rope, managed to sink the bucket.

Next he started to turn the handle in order to fetch the bucket to the top of the well. In order to get a better purchase on the handle, he took a step to the left, and as luck would have it, struck his knee against the crouching form of Perk.

Then came a quick look downward, since he was naturally curious to know what sort of object he had collided with–possibly he may even have had a sudden suspicion it would turn out to be some native beast from the neighboring swamp–possibly a panther, since such animals had been known to frequent the western shore of Okeechobee as a hunting-ground in days gone by.

Of course he instantly made a startling discovery, since there was enough light to show him the form of a man doubled up against the rocky well curbing.

It would have been instinctive for the man to have let out a yell on making this discovery but he did not have the chance to give tongue, at least fully, for Perk made a lightning-like spring and had both hands clasped about his throat effectually throttling the intended shout so that it emerged only as a queer sound, rather on the order of a bull alligator’s bellowing suddenly cut short.

That was but the beginning of the affair as Perk knew only too well it must prove to be. He found he had a tough proposition on his hands for the man struggled desperately, as who would not on finding his wind suddenly cut entirely off with a pair of iron-like hands pressing his throat as though it were gripped in a vise?

Jack sprang up, ready to lend his pal any necessary assistance if only the opportunity showed itself. Just then all he could make out in the dim light was a whirling set of wildly struggling figures, looking for all the world like one of those teetotums children delight in spinning–only on an exaggerated scale.

Then they went down with a crash, first one on top and then the other in rapid succession. It would have made an excellent picture for the silver screen, Jack could not help thinking while he drew his automatic and kept tabs on that open door, more than half expecting to see Oswald Kearns dash wildly out with some sort of machine-gun in his hands, ready to take a chance in the game, knowing that the attack must have everything to do with his own safety.

Perk seemed to be hanging on with the tenacity of a bulldog, for not another peep did the wolfish man, whose throat he squeezed, give vent to as the slam-bang fight continued. It was lucky indeed there chanced to be a raised wall about the well or in their frantic staggering this way and that the wrestlers might have plunged down into the yawning aperture, much to their mutual discomfiture–as it was they smashed up against the curbing several times, to emit grunts at the rough contact.

Finally, Jack, to his relief, saw Perk slam his now weakening adversary to the ground and immediately follow this up by sending in a number of furious blows that took every atom of fight out of the unfortunate chap who collapsed as if wholly done for.

Perk himself was far from fresh–his breath came in gasps and he must have been trembling in every joint from the tremendous exertion put forth but as always, victory was sweet in his nostrils and after assuring himself that nothing further need be feared from the man he had downed, he struggled to his feet, and ranged himself alongside Jack, as if to declare his readiness to fight it out along those lines if it took all night.

CHAPTER XXVII

AT BAY

Jack had been keeping a watchful eye on the nearby shack, not knowing what moment a raging figure might come dashing forth armed with a rapid-fire gun and ready to sweep up the earth with the mangled bodies of himself and Perk.

Somewhat to his surprise, and greatly to his relief as well, nothing of the kind came to pass. Suddenly he realized that the door of the squatty little coquina rock building had been closed, for no longer did the light spread a banner out into the black night.

“Drag him back of the well here, Perk,” he said softly, “we’ve got to make certain he’ll give us no further trouble. Got that piece of stout rope I gave you?”

“Right here, partner–wrapped around my waist,” and as he thus managed to make himself heard, even while so short of breath, Perk caught hold of the nearest leg of his late antagonist and without the least ceremony dragged the senseless man several feet just as he might a bag of meal–when head-over-heels in a real scrap Perk counted his opponents as so much junk whose fate it was to be handled without ceremony and yet after the row was over, no one could be more solicitous about binding up their hurts than Gabe Perkiser.

“Use the rope to fasten his ankles together,” advised Jack, standing guard meanwhile with his automatic ready for business and his keen eyes roving around in search of signs along the trouble line, “and knot it half a dozen times so it would take a knife blade to get free.”

“All done up brown and slick, Jack old hoss, now what?” announced Perk a minute or so later.

“Clap that new pair of bracelets on his wrists,” further explained the head pilot briskly, “and be sure to frisk him for a gat or even a knife. You see, we’re going to have our hands full with the boss and can’t fool around with this chap any longer.”

“His name is Mud!” scornfully declared Perk briskly as he completed his task with the manner of one to whom it had become an old story.

The fellow, it seemed, had recovered his senses for he tried to bite Perk’s hand and received a solid thump on the head for his pains.

“So far, good,” Jack was saying, half to himself. “Now let’s move along to the house and make sure our bird hasn’t skipped out while we were so busy at the well here. Got all the drink you want, Perk–we can’t be coming back every little while just to wet your long neck!”

“It’s okay with me, boy, let’s go,” the other announced with a chuckle.

Leaving their prisoner lying there they started an advance on the shack. Both eyed it carefully as they crept along and it was Perk who noticed the first favorable sign.

“Door’s shut, partner, but the light’s still on–you c’n lamp a streak down near the sill, think he’s on deck yet–ain’t cut an’ run like a blue streak?”

“We’ll soon find out,” Jack assured him. “’Twouldn’t be like a guy with his reputation as a scrapper to clear out so quick. I’m wondering whether he’s fixing up some hot reception for us when we break in.”

“Hot ziggetty! that is sure some rummy scrap,” Perk muttered as he kept close tabs on the shack now close by as though he more than half anticipated seeing it suddenly burst into flames, or go up in fragments under the influence of an explosion.

Now they had reached the door and Jack made a slight effort to open it, but with no success.

“No use,” he whispered to his kneeling mate, “it’s got the bar down in place. Listen and see if you can catch a sound from inside.”

A minute passed with both straining their hearing to the utmost–Perk even laid his head against the closed door so as to better catch any suspicious sound from within.

“Huh! guess they ain’t nothin’ doin’, partner,” he hissed in a disappointed tone, “thought I did get a little ruslin’ sound, like paper bein’ crumpled up when you’re a’makin’ a fire, but don’t hear it no longer.”

“Paper, you say?” snapped Jack uneasily, “I don’t like that any too much.”

“Why not?” asked the other, evidently at a loss to understand why such a simple little thing like that could annoy any one–what if the man at bay figured on setting fire to the hidden little retreat he had arranged here close to the lonely lake where he could slip away whenever he felt like shunning those society people over at crowded Miami–he surely had no intention of cremating himself and they could nab him if he started to make off.

“Paper–don’t you know what he was doing when we peeped in–that book ought to be worth its weight in gold to us as evidence and that stack of papers that he was looking through–if he’s given enough time he may put a match to the bunch and destroy everything that could be used against him. We’ve got to keep him from doing that, brother.”

“Yeah–but how?” gasped the other, showing renewed signs of excitement as he visioned the holocaust with their fine plans going up in fire and smoke just when they seemed about to corral success.

Jack answered that question by striking the door with his foot, the result being a loud thump. Then he caught hold of his chum and dragged him to one side. None too soon was this done, for there came a series of staccato explosions from inside the shack and tiny gleams of light in various sections of the door told that bullets had passed through the wood in a number of places. Only for this prompt action on the part of the cautious one, either or both might have had leaden pellets lodged promiscuously about their persons with resultant painful sensations.

“Wow! that was what I’d call a close shave,” whispered the kneeling Perk as he surveyed those suspicious holes in the badly riddled door, all on a line with any crouching human figure without.

There could no longer be any doubt as to the warlike intentions of the man they had at bay, his fighting spirit, first fed during those bloody days and nights in the Argonne, had burst into flame again and he shed his free and easy character as the lord of that wonderful palace at Miami to assume the rough and ready type of an adventure-loving smuggler chief, quick to defy all authority while the red blood rioted in his veins.

“We’ve just got to keep him on the jump,” Jack was saying, “so’s to occupy his attention and keep him from putting a match to those papers and that priceless account book with its addresses. Here, find a way to get in a smash or two on the door, like we meant to break in–I’ll slip around and see what can be done at the window.”

“Jack, I ’member there’s a log a’lyin’ right over there–why couldn’t I use that an’ really break through?”

“Too dangerous, buddy–he’d turn that terror of a machine-gun on and wipe us off the map. Do what I’m telling you, only keep back so he can’t get you when he shoots again.”

“Just watch my smoke,” grunted Perk, stooping to feel around for some object that could be made available for the purpose of a door knocker.

“Wait,” he heard the other saying as he was starting to move off. “Here’s a little pile of rocks–pick up one and toss it on the roof of the shack–make him think we’re climbing up, meaning to break in that way–anything to keep him so busy dodging and firing he’ll have no time to start that blaze.”

Perk grasped the main idea, which was to fight for time–given even half a chance, he knew his pal would find some way to accomplish the end he had in view which was to take Kearns a prisoner with enough positive evidence of his guilt to convict him when placed on trial in a Federal court.

Hastily then did Perk scramble for the rocks mentioned by his companion–it was much too dark for him to see where they lay, but he used his common sense with such signal success that almost immediately he found what he sought.

To toss up a good-sized rock with such vim that it came down on the roof with a loud bang was the work of a few seconds. Hardly had the crash sounded than Perk had another missile on its way and as long as the pile held out he meant to keep up a continual fusillade that would have the man inside guessing.

CHAPTER XXVIII