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

THE COME-BACK

It was more or less fun for Perk to keep up that bombardment as long as he had any ammunition left–the heavy thumps on the roof continued to follow each other, like blasts in a quarry or an admiral’s salute when the “old man” took a notion to come aboard.

So, too, would each concussion be followed by a spurt of gunfire from behind the closed door of the shack showing that Oswald was alive to the situation and must be enjoying his share in the strange engagement quite as much as the fun-loving Perk did his part.

If the little rock pile held out and there were enough ammunition belts for the machine-gun handy, the chances were that the roof of the bungalow would assume the nature of a sieve and leak when the next heavy rain storm set in.

Perk was fully aroused now, and awake to his part of the bombardment–his mind began to figure just what other means lay within his reach to continue engaging the attention of the rat in the trap after the last rock had been fired.

Some of them he knew had rolled off the slightly sloping roof after accomplishing their duty. If only he could lay hands on them they might be made to serve again but the darkness would make this problematical. There was that log he had mentioned to Jack–with it he fancied he might do something to keep up the feverish interest in the game and hold Oswald’s undivided attention.

What added more or less to the thrill he was enjoying was the fact that at any minute the ready marksman inside might succeed in reaching him with a bullet fired at some new angle. Jack had told him how Kearns was said to be quite a wizard at making bullseyes in a flying target either with a pistol or a rifle.

He was still going heavy although nearing the end of his ammunition, when something not on the calendar came along, something so unexpected that Perk was taken quite by surprise. A weighty and metallic object struck him on the head with such violence that he saw a million stars all at once, as though a myriad of rockets had exploded simultaneously high in the air.

He went down like a stone, his senses reeling under that frightful impact and yet half conscious of the fact that some one must have come up behind him in the darkness and struck him with a heavy weight.

Now he could feel hands groping about his person as though seeking to find where to follow up that first blow with another that would effectually wind up his career for keeps.

Rendered desperate by the nature of his situation Perk threw up both hands and chancing to come in contact with a human form, closed in with what might almost be called a death grip–his one object being to thus hold the unseen enemy close and prevent him giving a second blow that would be in the nature of a knockout.

He met with fierce resistance, but no matter how desperately the other struggled and fought he was unable to break Perk’s terrible hold, so like that of a fighting bulldog, once its teeth have closed for keeps.

There the two antagonists rolled to and fro, striving in turn to get on top, only to be over-turned in rotation. What made it all the more exciting was the fact that the man in the shack, hearing all those queer noises, must imagine his enemies were trying to burrow under the door for he kept up frequent furious bursts of gunfire and at any moment an unlucky roll was apt to bring the wrestlers within range of the hail of bullets.

One thing favored Perk–he was by degrees getting over the deadening sensation following that frightful blow on his head–apparently the other was weakening in the same proportion that Perk was gaining strength, showing that he must have been in anything but prime condition when the tussle started.

It was this potent fact that gave Perk his first inkling as to the identity of the man with whom he struggled. At first he took it for granted the fellow was the tall confederate they had noticed with Kearns during the late afternoon, and who had perhaps been away and returned to the shack just at this interesting moment to find it in a state of siege.

He had hardly begun to get an inkling as to the true state of affairs when one of his hands, in seeking to get a firmer hold, chanced to come in contact with something cold and hard. Then he understood just why his antagonist seemed to be so handicapped in the scramble–he could stretch his hands apart only so far–they were apparently held fast in some mysterious fashion.

It burst upon Perk like a bomb from a sky chaser–why, after all this was an old friend of his, one whom he had only recently been hugging with all his might and main–in fact no other than the short confederate of Kearns whom they had left beside the well but a brief time previously.

In some manner, which was a complete mystery to Perk, he had managed to get his legs free from that binding rope which had been wound around and around his ankles in many coils and then knotted half a dozen times. Perk found it hard to realize this puzzling fact, but just the same he knew it must be the truth.

He proceeded to continue his rolling process with additional vim, partly because he now knew the other could not get a chance to whack him again with both hands handcuffed–for that was what had actually occurred and it proved his first surmise–that hard metal had come in contact with his cranium.

Presently it came about that Perk was enabled to clutch the throat of his antagonist and for the second time close his fingers on his larynx, shutting off his wind completely and causing history to repeat itself.

The fellow gave up immediately, thus hoping Perk would diminish that paralyzing grip which the other condescended to do. When this had been carried through Perk made up his mind not to trust to a rope again–in the first place he had no rope and even if this were not the case he had for the time being lost all confidence in ropes as restraining agents.

He remembered he had a second pair of steel bracelets in one of his pockets, having fetched two pair along with the idea they might have to include some pal of Kearns’ before finishing their job.

He quickly had the fellow lying inert and acting as though he did not have another bit of fight left in him. Managing to pull out the handcuffs, Perk first tested them for size, and finding he could snap them shut after circling the ankles of his prisoner he did so with a vim. This would effectually prevent the man from getting any distance away, since he could move his feet only a few inches at a time at the best.

Perk struggled to his feet, feeling more or less dizzy. His first natural act was to put a hand to his head, and feel it gently, in order to ascertain the character and extent of his injuries. There was a cruel lump on his crown and he knew blood was streaking his face but on the whole he did not believe he was very badly hurt–perhaps after the double beating the other fellow had received at his hands he was worse off than Perk–an idea that started the latter chuckling, even if the act caused him a sudden dart of pain that made him wince.

Then he remembered what was going on, knowledge of which had been knocked out of his head by the unexpected fight that had taken place. How about Jack?

He dimly remembered hearing further shots from behind the barrier, although unable to decide whether the bullets continued to break through close to the bottom of the door or otherwise. Could this later fire have been directed at Jack, who had unwisely exposed himself at the side window?

Perk was strongly tempted to disobey orders and hasten around the corner in order to learn the worst. If that daredevil inside had hurt his pal he would be mad enough to find some way of blowing up the shack and the gas-mad ex-soldier along with it, regardless of consequences. He only waited long enough to run his swollen hands over the recumbent figure of the man in irons so as to make sure he could not play the same mean trick a second time. Finding everything fast, he turned away from the scene of his recent ruction, and hurried around the corner of the shack, bent on backing up Jack or, in case his pal had been placed out of the running, to avenge his injuries without delay.

CHAPTER XXIX

A LAST RESORT

Meanwhile how fared Jack in his share of the attempt to corner the defiant and persistent law-breaker?

He had crept around the corner after leaving his chum, fully convinced that some sort of heroic measures must be brought to bear on the ugly situation if they hoped to succeed.

One thing had already been amply proved–this was the unmistakable fact that Oswald Kearns must be having one of his occasional brain sprees, the result of his wartime gassing when he was apt to tip over his balance and for the time being imagine himself beset by a myriad of bitter foes whom it was his duty, as well as privilege, to mow down, regardless of everything. Acting under this delusion he was doubtless resting under the belief that these were Hun machine-gun squads secreted in nests in the Argonne and that he was duly recruited by Heaven to round them up, disseminate their number, and fetch a goodly bunch into the American lines as prisoners of war.

His readiness to shatter the door of his own lodge was evidence of his obsession, Jack firmly believed and from which he deduced the opinion that as long as his equipment held out he was ready to keep up that hot bombardment under the belief that the enemy were falling like dead leaves in the frosts of late Fall.

This being the case, Jack understood how exceedingly careful he must be not to expose even the tip of his nose, since everybody said Oswald was a most wonderful hand with firearms.

No sooner had he turned the corner of the rock shack than he made a discovery that gave him some satisfaction. At least the man inside had not considered it necessary that he extinguish the lamp for there was a certain amount of light coming from the window–only tiny lances, showing that some sort of shade had been drawn down as far as it would come.

So Jack crawled hastily forward, bent on taking a peep if it could be accomplished without too much risk. Having gained a position directly under the window, he considered just how he must go about it and so discovered that a plant of some sort–perhaps a young orange tree, was growing alongside the shack.

Taking hold of a sprig, he gently moved it across a portion of the opening and on finding it attracted no attention from within he next pushed his head up with the bunch of green foliage.

This resulted in giving him a quick survey of the interior–he could see what had come before his vision on his previous survey but at first he failed to discover any human presence. The fact gave him a feeling of chagrin, under the impression that Kearns might in some mysterious way have been able to quit the rock house without being discovered and that they had been outwitted.

In that brief period of time Jack seemed to glimpse all manner of strange tunnels leading from the secret retreat of the smuggler to certain exits back in the pine woods, craftily constructed for just such an emergency as had now come to pass.

Then he suddenly changed his mind on realizing how next to impossible it would have been to construct such underground exits when the near presence of great Okeechobee would make digging quite out of the question, since water must of necessity seep into any such passage and fill it full.

Jack, looking further, had just managed to discover a leg that was thrust into view when Perk’s first rock crashed on the roof, making a terrific noise. Following this came a burst of gunfire with the acrid powder-smoke filling the room and making seeing next to impossible.

Jack crouched down to do a little thinking as well as listen to the exchange of compliments between the warring forces–every loud detonation as a lump of coquina rock fell on the roof would be followed by its complement of rapid gunfire, just as though the man at bay was bound to keep up his side of the battle even if he had to create a shortage in his ammunition supply.

It was fierce work, yet bordering on the ludicrous, Jack told himself, meanwhile wondering just how long Perk’s heap of missiles would persist, also what was bound to happen when the rock pile was gone. Doubtless the near-demented man inside must be working up to a feverish pitch under the impression that he was specially designed by Providence to annihilate the whole German army and open a clear path to an Allied march all the way to Berlin!

Then silence came–a silence that seemed to brood over the scene of hostilities as might a sea fog drifting in along the coast and baffling the most skillful of flyers.

Jack had discovered a stick that was some three feet in length and remembering an old and often tried trick known to frontiersmen away back in the Kentucky days of Daniel Boone, he meant to try it out in order to see if the ammunition of the besieged man had run out on him or not–something that was really essential he should know before proceeding to extremes and breaking into the fortress that was holding himself and Perk so persistently at bay.

Removing his leather cap with its dangling earlaps, he perched it on the point of his stick and proceeded to elevate the contrivance so that it might be seen by the vigilant eyes within.

The result was all that he could have asked, showing that this venerable Indian trick was just as workable as in the days of old.

A single shot sounded dully within the shack–there was a tinkling sound as if a speeding bullet had bored a hole through a pane of glass and down fell his helmet. Jack picked it up and chuckled to find he could poke an investigating finger through a hole that had certainly not been there before. What great luck his head had not been inside that helmet, he was telling himself on thus learning the wonderful accuracy of the marksman.

Things were again at a standstill, for as long as the half demented Kearns was able to make such excellent use of his firearm it would be suicide for either of them to try and break into the shack.

One thing Jack had managed to discover with that brief peep back of the friendly bunch of orange leaves–there was a little heap of papers in the fireplace, also the precious book he yearned to possess–yes, and he could even make out a smudge as though a match had been used to start a conflagration but owing to some puff of contrary air the blaze had fizzled and gone out–an especially providential favor in their behalf Jack had told himself.