LAYING PLANS
After a noonday lunch Jack and his partner spent most of the afternoon
in carrying out the various duties that were seemingly on their program.
Among other things Jack visited the Federal building, and was closeted
for more than an hour with Mr. Adkins.
The latter official had conceived a great fancy for young Ralston, and
went to no end of trouble so as to post him with regard to what he was
likely to run up against while endeavoring to close in on Slippery Slim.
With his accustomed sagacity Jack made notes of some of the facts thus
laid before him; but since these were in shorthand, and would be utterly
unintelligible to any outside party, should they chance to fall into
enemy hands, there was no danger that any mischief would follow.
By degrees he was filling up with scraps of description, and everything
connected with former attempts at locating the hideout, where all this
unlawful scrip was being turned off the press, to flood the Southwest.
That was always his way of doing—when given a tough job Jack would live
alongside it, breathing the very atmosphere of the undertaking, until he
found himself sympathetic with the aims and ambitions of the criminals
whose apprehension was placed on his shoulders by his Big Boss.
“We’ll have dinner early, Perk,” he told the other, who had been
carrying out a number of special duties while Jack was busy elsewhere,
“so as to retire to our room at the hotel. No going out after nightfall
for us just at present, especially in a strange city, where some sneak
might waylay us coming back from the theater. All that sort of pleasure
must be put out of our heads just at present.”
“Huh! guess you’re hittin’ the nail on the head, old hoss, when you say
that,” grunted Perk, who very probably had already picked out just the
screen play he wanted so badly to see; but he was a good scout, and able
to put duty above pleasure, when the occasion arose for making a
personal sacrifice.
“Another thing,” continued Jack, “there’s no telling what night flying
we’re bound to be up against, in trying to keep our movements secret; so
it’d be wise for us both to enjoy all the extra sleep that comes our
way.”
“I get you, partner,” assented Perk, subordinating his desires to the
slogan which he knew was Jack’s watchword—“safety first”. “When I’ve
stowed away all the grub I c’n hold mebbe I’ll be ready to hit the hay,
to stick it out till cock-crow around daylight—an’ then some. Pretty
fair sleeper, they always called me across the big pond—crawl out as
the last horn was blowin’, rub my eyes a bit, get aboard my fightin’
crate, an’ step off to knock another Heine pilot down afore botherin’
’bout my breakfast—all in a day’s doings with Gabe Perkiser. Sabbe
that, partner?”
“Yes, I know you like a book,” Jack told him with a smile.
“Get a bellyfull when you had that confab with Mr. Adkins?” demanded
Perk.
“I’m filled up to the brim with all kinds of material, which by degrees
I’ll have to sort out, keeping only what strikes me as essential,” came
the answer.
“I see—sorter separatin’ the chaff from the wheat,” mused Perk; “an’ if
it’s a fair question, old hoss, which way do we head when we take off?”
“You might call it due northeast,” Jack told him; and then, as his
companion uttered a startled exclamation, as though vastly surprised,
Jack gave a quick glance around as if to make certain that no one was
dogging their footsteps, after which he lowered his voice almost to a
whisper, to add: “but that would be only for a _blind_, in case hostile
eyes were watching our departure from the flying field; for after we’ve
cleared a dozen or more miles we can make a complete circle, and point
the nose of our boat squarely west!”
“Good boy!” snapped the relieved Perk; “sounds a heap more like it. You
sure did throw a big scare into me, Jack, ’cause it’d been ’bout settled
’tween us that the game had ought to be played out there in the
boundless waste spaces around the border.”
“Yes, everything points that way so far,” he was assured; “but no more
talkie at present, Perk—we’ll keep bottled up until inside four walls,
where no spy can steal our thunder. Slim’s knocked the underpinning away
from a bunch of fine schemes looking to his undoing, simply by finding
out what the big game happened to be, and then bursting the bubble by a
scoop. We don’t intend to dish our business that way if it can be
helped.”
“Wall,” drawled Perk, with his best Yankee effect, “guess not if we know
our stuff, an’ c’n roll our hoop.”
As they walked along toward their hotel Perk kept up a constant lookout,
as though endeavoring to make some more or less thrilling
discovery—never a man, black or white, did they meet but that he was
made the object of a severe scrutiny by the suspicious one; however,
they reached their objective without his having run across any reason
for making a decision; and shortly afterwards they were securely lodged
in their room, the door locked, and a couple of easy chairs inviting
them to take things comfortable, which they lost no time in doing, being
wearied from so much trotting about—flying men as a rule not enjoying a
reputation for pedestrian feats.
A long and serious confab followed, both speaking in low tones; Jack on
his part explained the mass of information he had accumulated, and
answered the flood of questions asked by his comrade, as well as he was
able; until he found a chance to go deeper into things himself he could
not make definite statements concerning a number of points that were a
bit hazy, and needed confirmation.
Thus the afternoon waned, and the time came when they were ready to
think of the essential “eats”. Of course it was Perk who brought this
subject up, for he chanced to have a tremendous appetite, and was apt to
give considerable time to figuring what his next _menu_ would
be—indeed, half the enjoyment in his estimation lay in thus building
air castles along the line of “grub”.
Remembering that little episode up in Atlanta, where some unknown party
had made such a “rat’s nest” of Scotty’s adjoining room, evidently under
a mistaken belief it belonged to himself and Perk, Jack made sure to
carry all his important papers on his person, properly secured, so that
no deft hand of a sneak thief could negotiate their abstraction.
“All ready, partner,” he told Perk, at the time looking out of the
window, holding back the curtains to see the better who chanced to be
walking along the opposite pavement.
“You never said sweeter words than them, old boy; I sure was close to
faintin’, my tummy feelin’ like the bottom was adroppin’ out—soup an’
such soft stuffs, while fillin’ at the time don’t stay with me any great
while—I crave solids mostly. On your way then, Jack!”
Jack had marshalled all the facts that had been placed in his
possession, weeded a few out as worthless, and by the time their
discussion ended had told his companion that the Finger of Destiny was
pointing out their future course as lying over the almost boundless
plains of Texas, across New Mexico, and deep into Arizona deserts, to
the wild country along the border not far distant from the spot at which
the Gila river forms a junction with the larger Colorado; where the
latter serves as a watery boundary line between Arizona and Southeastern
California, with Old Mexico less than thirty miles distant as the crow
flies.
It would be a big jump for them, but the flood of bad currency
undoubtedly had its start somewhere in this hostile region, and spread
out like an open fan, northwest into San Diego and Los
Angeles—northward up to Salt Lake City—and in the northeast as far as
Oklahoma. To effectually break it up it was necessary that they go to
the fountain head, so as to destroy the very roots of the noisome poison
ivy plant.
They spent more than half an hour dining, and needless to say Perk
enjoyed himself to his heart’s content—who wouldn’t if he had a
pocketfull of ready cash, furnished by a bountiful Uncle Sam; a bill of
fare bristling with all kinds of tempting dishes such as Perk doted on;
and to complete the combination having been born with a healthy,
unbridled appetite?
It was just commencing to get dusk when they emerged from the restaurant
and started back to the hotel, some two blocks distant. Perk, as usual,
kept turning his head this way and that very much like a wolf
scalp-hunter looking for his suspicious quarry. Presently he picked at
Jack’s sleeve, and bending his head until his lips almost touched the
other’s ear he observed in a sibilant whisper!
“Listen, partner—we got a clam doggin’ us like a bloodhound on the
track o’ a runaway nigger from a convict camp back in Alabam—get that,
do you?”