The Sky Pilot's Great Chase; Or, Jack Ralston's Dead Stick Landing

This, however, proved to be a false deduction on his part for once again the thunder rose to a deafening pitch, with a wind of such velocity that Jack himself felt a little uneasiness, not on account of his own security, but because of the great damage he fancied the surrounding country would suffer in consequence of wind and flood.

“Danged if the ol’ thing ain’t turned turtle on us an’ got started on the back track agin!” complained the humbled Perk. “What I know ’bout weather you could stick in a thimble!”

“But you’re wrong when you say it’s backed upon us,” Jack told him pointedly, “for the wind is still coming from the same old quarter, this is only another section of the same old storm.”

“Huh! running this train in sections are they?” continued the disgusted Perk, “wall, I on’y hope they ain’t too many more parts to the contraption – I’ve seen quite enough a’ready.”

Having finished their supper they made themselves as comfortable as the conditions allowed. Jack got to figuring, as usual, for he was a great hand at laying out his plans in black and white for reference when the time for action arrived. Perk was poring over some clippings he had picked up at some time or other and which appeared to be of special interest to him.

It was indeed a most eccentric storm, now waning and giving promise of expiring, anon picking up again and squeezing out considerable more water to help finish the flooding of the earth.

Tiring of his reading with a poor light, Perk had for some little time been lying there so quietly that Jack half suspected he might have passed into dreamland. Suddenly he gave a loud grunt and exclaimed:

“Reckon now it might be jest plain Barrowman – an’ yet somehow that don’t seem to sound quite right – how ’bout Baxter – Banister – Brockman – shucks! what ails me anyhow – my bean ain’t worth a red cent when it comes to ’memberin’ names – guess I must be goin’ a bit loco an’ next thing I know I’ll have to sew my own name on my coat in case I forget it.”

Jack only chuckled, knowing that his chum was going through the same old game of cudgeling his treacherous memory with the usual poor results as of yore.

Later still, and both of them seemed to get more or less sleep though the storm kept up a growling and threatening for hours, as if not content with such damage as it must have already done.

Finally Perk, aroused by signs of daylight, looked out and was highly pleased to discover that not only had dawn really arrived, but that there was not a single cloud to be seen in the entire heavens.

“Hi! partner, wake up!” he called out, “mornin’s got here an’ that pesky row-maker’s cleared out for keeps – goin’ to have a clear day for our flight to Spokane. After such a devil o’ a blow I kinder guess we might look for fair stuff a hull week o’ Sundays. But hold on, I forgot I was sech a poor weather sharp, so don’t count on anything I might say – I jest don’t know what they got laid up for us flyers, an’ that’s a fact.”

They had a very decent breakfast, for Perk hunted up some dry wood, he calling himself a Maine woods guide these days it appeared, and consequently able to skirmish suitable fuel, even after such a drenching downpour. Then, after starting a cooking fire he produced a lightweight skillet, also a pound of sliced breakfast bacon, some strips of which he proceeded to fry as though quite accustomed to playing the role of camp cook. Then too, he had a new aluminum coffeepot which he meant to christen on that occasion so the appetizing odors of these two breakfast mainstays soon spread around the entire community, doubtless much to the wonder of various chipmunks and red squirrels that frisked here and there among the trees.

Jack said nothing, only nodded his head at witnessing these wonderful revelations as if things suited him all right. Trust sagacious Perk to make ample preparations for the numerous meals they would have to count on while engaged in the future tasks certain to be given into their charge from time to time.

XII

THE LAY-OVER AT SPOKANE

There was no trouble whatever about getting off after Jack had checked his motor and the rest of their ship so as to make certain nothing had suffered during the sway of that extraordinary storm.

As they went along, still keeping above the lake shore much of the way, Perk frequently called out as he discovered by use of the binoculars some particular damage done by the unwelcome visitor of the preceding afternoon and night. Trees were down and obstructing the highway between the various towns – several houses he noticed appeared to have chimneys toppled over or, as was the case in one sad instance, have a tree fall directly on the roof and occasion considerable damage.

Presently they had left the lake in their wake and were also changing the line of their flight more or less. Jack had laid out his plan and felt positive of being able to strike their distant goal in due time, even if he did not have the beacons of the air-mail flyers to guide him.

Somewhere about noon they glimpsed a city ahead which of course must be none other than Spokane. Shortly afterwards they were circling above the aviation field and gradually lowering so as to strike the proper spot. In these air-minded times the coming of a strange plane no longer excited an undue amount of curiosity, since a multitude of private aircraft were daily scouring all sections of the country from Florida to the Canadian border and between both oceans – as Perk was fond of saying they’d soon become as common as dirt.

No sooner had they made contact with the ground than Jack, followed by his companion, jumped out to be greeted by several parties in the same class as themselves – pilots, mechanics and field workers. It was no trouble to get the use of a hangar, since there chanced to be several vacant ones for hire. So too did Jack see fit to engage a promising looking man to stand by their ship and make certain no one tampered with it. A good judge of faces, Jack felt certain he had picked out a dependable man for this duty so that his mind might be free from any worry while in the city attending to his particular business.

Perk, for some reason or other did not seem to care about accompanying him – doubtless in the belief that he would in due time hear everything from his partner. Perhaps too Perk did not happen to have just as much confidence in the hired guard as Jack seemed to feel. The remembrance of that burned garage and badly injured Pitcairn Mailwing crate may have still remained too fresh in his memory to let him recklessly abandon their ship in the midst of a strange airport.

Jack was just as well pleased, for he could carry out his business with better results if the talkative Perk were absent although of course Jack would never be guilty of letting his chum know this little fact.

Perk, having eaten a dry snack before they landed, was not very hungry and he had told Jack to be sure and get his dinner at some restaurant while in the city, so that part of the day’s doings was taken care of nicely.

It was several hours afterwards when Jack showed up again. Perk could not notice anything about his appearance to suggest that a monkey wrench had been dropped in the machinery of their projected flight, hence he took it for granted Jack must have had a gratifying confab with Mr. Robert Mills Maxwell, to whom he had been directed to apply, a Government official who would be able to give him the latest news concerning the notorious Hawk and his lawless doings up there in the Northwest Territory where the Canadian Mounted Police held sway.

Perk beckoned to his pal to join him, for at the time he happened to be sitting on a bench not far distant from their hangar and had made up his mind the spot would be an admirable one for them to have their little council of war, after Jack had detailed his adventures in the city.

“How’s things?” Perk started in by asking in a general way.

“All serene,” came the ready answer accompanied by a nod. “I spent nearly an hour and a half with Mr. Maxwell and found him a most agreeable sort of a gentleman. It was certainly a pleasure to sit and chat with him. He gave me the latest information and just now I’ll only say there is to be no change in our program – the whole thing goes through as we figured it.” Perk showed signs of sheer pleasure.

“Hot ziggety dog! but I’m right glad to hear that, partner,” he remarked eagerly. “I sure do hate to swap hosses when crossin’ a stream an’ we got things pretty well set up as ’tis. How long will we be stickin’ round this Spokane airport, I wonder?”

“Perhaps we may take off in the morning, but a good deal depends on certain things. I may have to see Mr. Maxwell again if he sends out a message by telephone this afternoon. I’m still using my new name, you understand – he thinks it a bright idea, both now and later on when we’ll be running across the trail of the man we want most to strike.”

“Huh! Mister John Jacob Astorbilt, o’ course an’ by the same token I’m Gabe Smith, Esq., from the glorious State of Maine an’ known as one o’ the slickest woods guides goin’. Whoopee! nothin’ like layin’ it on thick when you’re about it. But I want to say that I’ll breathe easier after we cut loose from all these strange airports an’ strike the open away up in the Canadian bush country.”

“Nothing to worry about that I can see, brother,” Jack said soothingly, “I can guess what’s on your mind and that was a sad sight I admit, seeing such a dandy craft nearly ruined by the fire but I’ve got a dependable man to watch things here tonight and even if we have a single enemy in Spokane, which I doubt, he’ll never get a show down to injure our fine ship.”

“Mebbe so Jack, an’ already I feel a bit more confidence in the chap you picked up. I’ve been chattin’ with him – he’s a married man with a wife an’ two kids. More than that I’ve learned he was raised in that great old State o’ Maine an’ not fifty miles, as the crow flies, away from the place where I fust saw daylight. Guess now he’s okay. We both seem to have knowed a number o’ boys an’ that kinder makes it feel like we’d been neighbors. Yep, I guess Ike Hobbs is on the square. Mebbe now I might take a notion to run in with you this afternoon, so’s to get some eats an’ see a picture – been an age since I had a chance to enjoy myself laughin’ at one o’ them comics on the screen. How ’bout the place you took dinner at – good enough to stand an encore, buddy?”

That was the real Perk all over again – food appealed to him as regularly as the hour rolled around three times a day, and seven days in the week. Jack laughed to hear his comment, and went on to reassure him.

“Plenty good I reckon, Perk old boy and I’ll take pleasure in steering you around to the place this evening. Be sure to have your appetite along for they’ve got a menu almost a yard long so you can have a wide choice.”

“Oh! you c’n depend on me carryin’ my appetite wherever I wander – jest can’t nohow get away from it – haunts me like my shadow an’ has ever since I c’n remember. They tells me I never could get filled up like most kids, no matter how they chucked it into me. Any real particular news come your way down thar in town, Jack?”

“A little that was interesting, I’d call it,” came the reply, “although it may be we’ll never be called upon to handle the proposition but Mr. Maxwell did seem to be a heap interested in the game and I sure enough promised to help him out, if we chanced to run smack into one of those mule trains.”

“What’s that, buddy? Je-ru-sa-lem crickets! an’ do we expect to try an’ rustle stolen mules this time? Wall, I never ’spected the time’d come when I’d be a mule wrangler o’ all things!”

“Hold everything and go slow about making up your mind,” warned Jack, visibly amused by Perk’s evident floundering, “this doesn’t happen to have anything to do with mule punchers or even rustlers. It’s only a little possible sideline that might happen to develop and of which Mr. Maxwell would have to be advised should we strike pay dirt – that’s all, Perk.”

“In that case,” admitted the now reconciled Perk, “mebbe I might stand for even mules in my itemary or whatever it is I’m aimin’ to say. I seen the stubborn critters do some mighty fine work over there in France – mules that came all the way from Missouri in the bargain. But whatever can it be mules has got to do with coaxin’ us to turn aside from our main trail, I’d like to know?”

“Just what I’m going to tell you, if you give me half a chance, brother,” explained Jack. “Here’s a little clipping that will explain the whole thing that’s got Mr. Maxwell keyed up to a high pitch,” and he passed a strip taken from a newspaper to the now deeply interested Perk.

XIII

OVER THE MOUNTAIN TRAILS

This then was what the deeply interested Perk read as he sat there on the isolated bench at the Spokane flying field and it can easily be understood the startling information he soaked in thrilled him to the core:

“The Government agents have been informed of what they suspect will prove to be a gigantic conspiracy to smuggle liquor in immense quantities across the border from Canada into this territory, carried out in an original manner never before attempted and which has thus far met with unqualified success.

“This conspiracy, it is believed, has resulted in bringing many thousands of dollars worth of rum over the line, which has been distributed among the numerous cities of our northwestern country. Several rum rings have, from all accounts, been using pack trains, often well camouflaged, in order to avoid contact with customs officers who might be abroad watching for undesirables.

“These clever smugglers, it appears, adopted numerous devices to hide the long lines of plodding, liquor-laden animals and at times it is claimed they have even driven the mules over United States forestry service trails.

“So systematized are the wide-spread operations of the rum rings said to be that a ‘traffic manager’ has been employed to route the many pack trains from Canada to secluded places opposite the sparsely settled and mountainous Okanogan country in north central Washington.

“Further accounts say that the Pacific manager also watches the weather and when it snows sends white mules along the trails, the animals blending with the whiteness of the landscape. When the ground is bare – bay animals carry the liquor.

“An old time packer who knows how to use the ‘diamond hitch’ in strapping pouchlike containers onto the animals’ backs it is claimed is employed to load the mules.