THE LUCK OF SCOTTY
“Happen to have that pocketbook along with you, Scotty?” asked Jack, in
a matter of fact tone; just as though he might be possessed of ordinary
curiosity concerning so amazing a visit; since never before had he heard
of a night prowler leaving his own money behind him, when his intention
had been to rob his victim.
“Sure thing, Jack,” promptly replied the air mail pilot; “here, take a
squint at my Christmas present, dropped in by old Santa Claus a bit
before the reg’lar holiday season,” and with a laugh he chucked the
object in question into the hand of the other.
“Old, just as you remarked, Scotty,” observed Jack, “and used a long
time. It must have slipped out of his pocket when he worked your stuff
over to mix it up like the devil.”
“Open it up and see what the blessed chump left me in place of his
card,” the other continued, looking exceedingly proud over his lucky
find.
Jack did that with alacrity; in fact it was what he intended doing, for
reasons of his own; something more than curiosity influencing him, it
would appear.
“Gee whiz! a neat little bunch of the needful, I’d say, Scotty, old
hoss!” burst out the envious Perk, his eyes fixed full upon the contents
of the much worn pocketbook, which Jack was holding in his hand and
apparently interested in counting, for there were a number of bank notes
for various amounts, and among them just three five-dollar bills,
seemingly quite fresh, though a bit soiled, as though they had been in
circulation.
“Nineteen smackers in all,” announced Perk, showing that he had also
been keeping tabs on the count. “Well, wouldn’t that knock you cold
though? Huh? that same caller must’ve been looking for _me_, and just
missed connections by striking the next door. Well, here’s wishing you
the same old luck every time a sneak thief pays you a visit, Scotty
boy.”
Jack on his part was feeling of the three five-dollar bills, and holding
them up to the light from the western sun that managed to come into the
hangar by way of the open doors.
“What ails you, Jack?” demanded the recipient of Fortune’s smiles, as he
noticed these strange actions on the part of his new friend.
“Nothing much,” he was told, “only I’m going to give you a bit of
advice, partner, if you don’t mind.”
“Go to it, boy; always willing to take it when it seems sound!” snapped
the mail carrier, briskly enough, still more than curious.
“If you’re wise, Scotty,” went on Jack, smilingly, “you’ll not try to
pass any one of these five-dollar bills until you’ve asked the opinion
of some bank teller—it might get you into trouble.”
“Zowie! what’s that you’re saying, Jack—don’t tell me they’re off-color
bills, counterfeits in fact. Wouldn’t that be a rotten deal to hand out,
and me figgering how I’d spend them? Is _that_ what you mean?”
“I reckon it’s so, Scotty, much as I hate to knock your good luck,” Jack
told him, with a shake of his head. “I happened to have a little
experience in a small bank some years ago and they did say I showed
signs of being a clever detector of bad money. That’s a clever job all
right; but I’m afraid it won’t stand the wash worth a cent. Go slow, and
don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched. Also I’d advise you
not to go around telling about your windfall until you’ve shown this
stuff to some friendly bank official, whose advice you’d be willing to
take. If he says it’s good stuff why forget what I’m saying, and go the
limit. But we’d better be finishing our own job, Perk, and get off on
our jump.”
Scotty hung around for a short time, looking puzzled, as though he
hardly knew how much to believe. What Jack had said in his friendly
fashion had doubtless cast quite a damper on certain bright dreams in
which he had been indulging. However, he finally decided to take himself
off, evidently eager to know whether the laugh was on him or not, for he
called out:
“Goodbye, Jack, Perk; and be sure to look me up when next you drop in at
Candler Field Airport; like as not I’ll still be on my old job here,
unless they decide to transfer me somewhere else. And say, Jack, I’m
meaning to take your advice, and get an opinion on this here stuff ’fore
I try to pass it out on any old duffer. So-long boys and luck!”
When the two comrades, adventure bound, found themselves alone they
looked at each other in silence for almost a full minute, when a grin
started to travel over Perk’s well bronzed face.
“Say, wouldn’t it jar you though, to have such luck knock at your door,
and then give you a sly kick?” he demanded of his companion.
“To tell the honest truth, Perk, I’m not thinking about Scotty and his
queer windfall; it’s our own great good luck that’s making me suspect
we’re bound to carry this job through with flying colors.”
“Eh? now what d’ye mean by saying that?” asked the other hastily.
“Right in the beginning, Perk, we seem to have stumbled on a nice little
plum in the shape of a clue—flung directly at our heads, you might say
in the bargain.”
“Glory be! do you mean to tell me those bogus notes were off the same
plates we’ve been hearing so much about lately that I’ve been dreamin’ I
was tied hand an’ foot, an’ poked under a dozen bales of them?”
“Just that, as sure as you live, partner,” said Jack, composedly; but if
he could take it so coolly, not so his right bower who showed signs of
extreme excitement and satisfaction, for he thrust out his hand, that
had so often been an object of vast respect on the part of some welter
weight boxer, and insisted that Jack accept a gentle shake.
“We’re sure Fortune’s favorites,” Perk was saying, striking an attitude
as he thus proudly spoke; “an’ with such luck hoverin’ over our heads I
vow all the Lower Regions with its devils can’t prevail against us. But
see here, old hoss, there’s more than chance in this break o’ the party
who broke through Scotty’s door, and panned all his traps—I guess now
he must have missed a cylinder, an’ jest passed us by in a ground loop.”
Jack was accustomed to the other’s quaint way of expressing himself, for
he lost no time in adding:
“About that way, I take it, Perk. And if what we suspect turns out to be
true, it stands to reason there’s some sort of big combine back of it
all.”
“With this same Slippery Slim Garrabrant pulling the wires for the whole
bunch, is that what you mean, Jack?” demanded the other flyer quickly;
for when once set on the right track Perk’s mind could travel speedily
enough.
“It’s certainly his brain that’s built up this wide flim-flam trade in
the make believe green stuff that’s been fooling a whole lot of bank
tellers, it’s so near the genuine article. To smash the combine we’ve
got to check up on Slim; after he’s caged the entire arrangement’s bound
to fall through.”
“I get you, partner; and them’s my sentiments every time,” admitted the
eager Perk. “And here, when we’re starting out to pull off our fresh
stunt, I’m wishing all the luck that’s going to our little game. Meaning
to give her a last checking over, eh, Jack?”
“It’s a habit of mine, as you know, Perk; and you might amuse yourself
stowing the cargo we’ve taken aboard, so’s to let us have room for our
feet when we take off. From the looks of the junk you picked up
anybody’d reckon we planned to go into camp for a week or two.”
“Well, mebbe that’s what’ll happen to us before we strike pay dirt in
this ticklish job,” asserted Perk, stoutly. “You know we figgered things
out, and made up our minds this same slick article of a Slim might have
his hangout over the line in Old Mexico, where he prints his bad bills,
and then comes across the line with a big bunch in his ship, so’s to
scatter the stuff around to his agents in Texas and Arizona, or it might
be all through Southern California. If that guess turns out to be a
bullseye we might be away off the line of travel for days at a stretch,
and a grub stake’d turn the trick okay, I’m thinking, boss.”
Jack made no reply, for he was already busily engaged in looking over
his crate. This was, as he had mentioned, an old habit, contracted in
the early days of his career as an aviator of sorts; and most likely
such extreme caution had saved his life more than once.
As he too worked close by, Perk was thinking more or less about
something that had caught his ever watchful eye just before they entered
the hangar to make these last preparations for their southern flight. As
usual he was unable to keep his speculations entirely to himself, since
he always liked to compare notes, and find out whether his companion’s
views coincided with his own.
“Say, Jack, did you happen to notice that Ryan ship they’d just taken
out of the shed before ours?” he demanded, while still lifting packages
of various supplies, and stowing them away in a shipshape fashion; so
they would not be likely to shift, and thus imperil the safety of
himself and comrade, should they chance to encounter rough weather later
on.
“Not particularly,” came the answer. “I was too busy over my own affairs
to bother with anything that didn’t concern me in the least. What of it,
Perk?”
“Nothing much, old hoss, only it was a next to new bus, and hadn’t been
flown more’n a few thousand air miles, I’d guess. Couple of fellers
seemed to be the crew, one of ’em lookin’ like he might be a pilot; and
the other a chap that was out to have a jolly good time sportin’ for
sport. I saw him handlin’ some sort of gun, which made me guess he was
down South for the shootin’ season—mebbe after bear in the Louisiana
canebrakes.”
Jack laughed as if amused, for he had noted the way in which the other
made this stab at what might be the designs of the unknown parties.
“Feel a bit envious I take it, Perk,” he observed, laconically. “Always
did yearn for the day to come when you’d have a ship of your own, and
could spend all your spare time jumping about the country, enjoying
yourself with rod and gun. Cheer up, old sport, you may live to see that
day yet, if things break right for us in a few big games like this one
we’re running down.”
“Thanks for your good luck wishes, Jack,” the other was saying; “I c’n
just picture the bully times that pair’ll like enough have sitting by
their camp-fire, living on game they’ve knocked over, and not caring a
darn whether school keeps or not. Oh! well, if I live long enough mebbe
I may have a whiff of that kind of life before I kick off for keeps;
they say everything comes to the man who waits, and that’s me. There,
that finishes my job, with everything stowed away as slick as you
please. When you’re ready, Jack, we’ll be on our way.”