WINGS OVER THE ROCKIES
Or
Jack Ralston's New Cloud Chaser
by
AMBROSE NEWCOMB
Author of "The Sky Detectives," "Eagles
of the Sky," etc., etc.
Published by
The Goldsmith Publishing Co.
Chicago
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 1930
The Goldsmith Publishing Co.
Made in U. S. A.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
I WAITING FOR ORDERS
II PERK GROWS SUSPICIOUS
III THE HOLD-UP
IV A CHANCE CLUE
V WHEN A COG SLIPPED
VI CYCLONE PROVES GAME
VII THEY ARE OFF
VIII BIRDS OF A FEATHER
IX THE THREATENING CRASH
X FLYING BLIND
XI AN UNSOLVED MYSTERY
XII IN THE COLORADO CANYON COUNTRY
XIII A STRANDED PLANE
XIV JACK MAKES A DISCOVERY
XV THE HAND OF FATE
XVI SUZANNE INSISTS
XVII THE CAMP IN THE CANYON
XVIII THE VIGILANT GUARD
XIX OVER-ZEALOUS PERK
XX AN UNSUBDUED SPIRIT
XXI COMBING THE MOUNTAIN-TOPS
XXII AN AIR-MAIL WAY STATION
XXIII PERK LOSES HIS VOICE
XXIV ONE CHANCE IN A THOUSAND
XXV THE NEVER-SAY-DIE SPIRIT
XXVI CRATER LAKE
XXVII THE END OF THE TRAIL
XXVIII AROUND THE CAMPFIRE
XXIX NO PROWLERS ALLOWED
XXX BRINGING IN THEIR MAN
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wings Over The Rockies
CHAPTER I
WAITING FOR ORDERS
"Hot ziggetty dog! I kinder guess now Jack, we've been an' put the new
cloud-chaser through every trick we've got up our sleeves--flopped her
over on her back, righted her, to turn turtle again, done nose-dives an'
Immelmann turns, made a shivery sixteen thousand foot ceilin' for
altitude--an' now, after all this circus stunt business, we figger she's
a real ship, queen o' the air-ways."
"Perk, you never said truer words and I'm sure proud of the fact that
our Big Boss up at Washington appreciated that little Florida job we put
through last winter, so's to put us in charge of such a swell air
craft."
"Ginger pop! we used to reckon our old crate some punkins at speedin',
when _real_ flyin' was needed but shucks! with this cracker-jack boat we
could make all kinds o' rings 'round the old bus or else my name ain't
Gabe Perkiser."
The young leather clad pilot at the controls, as if to still further
emphasize his good opinion of the spanking, up-to-date plane they had
for some days been joyfully testing out, volplaned down on a long coast
just as though a merciless enemy craft were on their tail with a
babbling machine-gun keeping up an intermittent fire and a hail of
bullets filling the air around them.
Then he leveled off, attained a dizzy speed, turned, banked, and came
roaring back to execute a dazzling monster figure-eight sweep.
"Great stuff, old hoss!" cried the exultant Perk for they had their
earphones adjusted so as to be able to exchange comments at will,
despite any racket caused by the madly racing motor and spinning
propeller combined.
"I reckon that will be enough juice used up for today," Jack Ralston was
saying in a thoroughly satisfied tone, "and now we'd better make a
bee-line for our landing field. It'll be the same old story,--a gang
gathering around to admire our new boat--and all trying to find out just
who we are and what big air company we're connected with."
Thereupon Perk chuckled in a queer way he had, evidently vastly amused.
"We got 'em right goofy with guessin', partner, for a fact. How the
curious minded boobs do try to squeeze a few grains o' information out
of us with their foxy questions. I've heard some wise-cracks along them
lines silly enough to make a hoss laugh an' all o' the remarks ain't
jest as complimentary as I'd like, not by a long shot."
"Little we care," remarked Jack, adjusting his goggles to a more
satisfactory angle and releasing the ear flaps of his helmet. They had
left the frigid altitude where they had climbed almost as though shot
upward by some monster cannon, thanks to the novel wings with which the
new ship was equipped.
"Huh! let 'em try to outsmart us," Perk went on to say, a bit
scornfully. "We c'n jest keep our lips buttoned tight an' mind our own
business. Won't be long, anyway, I guess, till we hear from Headquarters
an' have to jump off on some fresh stunt, roundin' up the slick crooks
who keep puttin' their thumbs on their noses an' wigglin' their fingers
at Uncle Sam's Secret Service boys--counterfeiters, smugglers, aliens
crossing the borders, booze from out on the high seas, makers o'
moonshine in the mountings and on the burnin' deserts like Death Valley
an' such riffraff that scoffs at the law!"
Perk, as he was generally called by his friends, was really a World War
veteran, having served aboard a "sausage" observation balloon and later
on as a fighting pilot of more than average bravery and ability. He did
his "daily dozen" through the whole desperate series of conflicts in the
Argonne with a fair number of "flaming coffins" placed to his
credit--enemy ships shot down on fire.
Since quitting the army after the Armistice put a stop to all
hostilities, Perk had passed through quite a number of vocations that
appealed to the unrest in his blood, demanding so strenuously a calling
built upon more or less continual excitement.
He had been a barn-storming pilot, giving exhibitions of reckless
parachute jumping from high altitudes and similar stunts at county fairs
and other public gatherings and had also spent several years as a valued
member of the Mounted Police up in the Canadian Northwest country. He
finally was drafted into Uncle Sam's Secret Service by reason of an
official having met up with him when moose hunting in the trackless
wilds of northern British Columbia.
When Jack Ralston, who himself had gained a little fame in the Secret
Service on account of generally bringing in his man, was selected to
pilot a speedy ship he picked Gabe Perkiser whom he had known for some
time and whose companionable disposition as well as unquestioned courage
made him an ideal pal--in Jack's eyes at least.
Their first assignment called for service carrying the flyers over the
Mexican border to apprehend a notorious character who had long been a
thorn in the flesh of the Washington authorities, since he came and
went, mostly via the air route, crashing Uncle Sam's frontier gate with
cargoes of undesirable aliens, usually Chinese, willing to pay as much
as a thousand dollars per head for an opportunity to enter the States,
forbidden ground to those of their race.[1]
Having, despite all difficulties, carried out their instructions to the
letter and handed over their man to the nearest U. S. District Attorney
for prosecution, Jack and Perk were later on dispatched with their
efficient plane to the Gulf Coast of Florida, there to break up a
powerful combination of smugglers through whose bold and lawless
ventures, by air and sea, the whole Southern country was being submerged
in a flood of foreign brands of liquor.
Again the two pals proved their calibre and brought home the bacon,
having dealt the rum-runners a severe jolt and actually kidnaped the
chief offender.[2]
Now they were daily anticipating still another assignment which, for
aught they knew might carry them to the Maine border or even to
Alaska--all sectors of our wide country look alike to energetic Secret
Service agents especially when they have magical wings with which to
annihilate space and carry them through cloudland at a hundred miles and
more an hour.
It looked very much as though their excellent record was being fully
appreciated at Headquarters for there had come to them a wonderfully
equipped new ship, carrying many lately discovered and new inventions
calculated to lighten the labors of the man at the controls as well as
to secure a degree of safety never before attained in any craft.
Jack was heading for the home port, quite satisfied with the finishing
check-up of the amazing attributes of their new acquisition, and as for
Perk, he could hardly contain himself, such was his enthusiasm in
connection with their trying-out process.
"Beats anything that carries wings," he vowed in his characteristic
fashion, "and it's bound to be a poor day for any guy who thinks he c'n
get away from this race hoss o' the skies. See how she snorts on her
course will you, partner, and us agoin' at mor'n a hundred an' thirty
right now! This is the life for me, an' I wouldn't care much if my legs
got so cramped I couldn't walk a mile--some birds are like that, I
understand, buzzards f'r instance fairly wobble on the ground but able
to put the kibosh on most other feathered folks when they take off in
their clumsy way."
Jack did not show much desire to keep up the conversation--the fact of
the matter was he felt more or less tired after a long day in the clouds
and much preferred to pay strict attention to the many dials on the
black dashboard just in front, with which he was by degrees becoming
familiar.
The afternoon was drawing near its close, with the sun drawing closer to
the mountainous horizon off to the west. So after swinging on their way
for half an hour they were able to glimpse their destination which was
the Cheyenne, Wyoming, airport.
"Keep up your bluffing when we land Perk, remember," warned Jack as he
started to circle at a height of a thousand feet and could see a number
of people running this way and that, undoubtedly in their endeavor to be
close by when their landing gear struck the ground.
This wonderful new plane, and the mysterious pair of pals handling it
had continued to excite the curiosity not only of pilots using the
field, but aviation bugs who haunted the place as well. These folks were
enthusiasts over the exploits of noted flyers, but not venturesome
enough themselves to wish to become pilots, even though they were of the
right calibre. However, they knew considerable about ships and their
furniture so as to be able to appreciate anything exceedingly novel
along those lines.
"Watch my smoke, partner," said Perk complacently enough. "I'm not
agoin' to let any o' that mob crab my game. Men in our class don't go
around doin' their stuff in the open, like they was magicians throwin' a
fit. We got to know how to mix things a heap an' pull the wool over the
eyes o' the crowd. So far as they need to know, we're jest a couple o'
guys out for a lark an' with shekels to burn."
"That's the ticket Perk, keep the racket going up to the time we pull
out of Cheyenne no matter which way we climb. Well, here goes to knock
our tail on the ground again then for a bite of supper at the Emporium
and a look in at some show. I'm getting a bit tired of this inaction, to
tell you the honest truth. I reckon both of us will be glad to get our
next orders and cut loose with our nobby ship."
"You said a mouthful buddy that time," observed Perk as he raised his
hands with the intention of removing the earphones since they were at
the end of their afternoon check-up, delightfully happy because their
plane had shown its exceedingly strong points.
Now they were circling for the last time and those below, discovering
just about where they meant to land, had started on the run, apparently
eager to be on hand in order to obtain a fresh close-up of the
mysterious chums who had been hanging around the airport for such a
length of time.
Never had a boat dropped down more lightly than did their craft--Jack
could not help giving his mate a look of overpowering joy at the slight
impact, which was returned in full measure by the proud Perk who
anticipated wonderful things to come when they got going for fair up
among the clouds or dodging through the canyons of the mighty Rockies,
wherever the hand of Fate, and orders from Headquarters, took them.
So the landing was made and the wonder ship safely housed in the hangar
they had hired which could be securely locked to keep curious minded or
unscrupulous people from trying to get a line on its several novel
features.
A short but serious-looking chap came up to have a few words with
Jack--this was the party who had been hired especially to keep watch and
ward over their highly prized aerial steed. Cal Stevens had been
recommended as a man to be trusted and although he had no positive
knowledge of their identity, he did know they were clean sportsmen and
men of their word. Consequently Jack felt the precious ship given into
their charge by the Government would be carefully guarded throughout
each night.
They left the field with several figures trailing after them for the
mystery hovering over their movements had piqued the curiosity of a
number of men. All manner of queer stories, resting on insecure
foundations, had been rumored so that people pointed them out in the
street and some wise-acres even gained considerable notoriety by
pretending to know it all, though under a pledge to keep their secret
inviolate.
It became even necessary to resort to expedients in order to shake these
snoopers as the indignant Perk called them and usually a vehicle of some
sort offered them an easy way to beat out the clan. On this particular
evening, however, a big car occupied by several men whom they did not
remember having noticed before, kept after their own vehicle up to the
very door of the modest house in which they had a room.
"I say it's a danged shame," stormed the angry Perk as the two of them
started to strip and get into ordinary citizen's clothing so they would
not attract unpleasant attention while eating their supper and attending
the movies later on--"that pesky car kept on our tail right up to the
door an' chances are it's parked somewhere out there right now, awaitin'
for us to hike over to the Emporium restaurant. Riles me for fair,
partner, an' for two cents I'd like to stand them hoboes on their heads,
on'y I guess that'd be fool's play for me."
"It certainly would, Perk," his chum assured him as they dressed. "Men
in the detective line never want to draw attention to themselves for
once it's known what calling they're engaged in and a lot of their value
to their employers is lost. That's just why the detectives in big cities
like New York wear masks when suspects are lined up each morning for
inspection. You know that, of course, Perk, but I'm just reminding you
because if you get all 'het up' you might say or do something that would
spill the beans for us."
"I'll cool down right away, Jack old hoss," the other assured him
contritely. "That's my greatest weakness you know, an' I'm countin' on
my best pal to keep a finger on my pulse so's to check me up when I
threaten to run loose with my too ready tongue. Wait a minute, Jack,
till I get a paper so I c'n read up on the dope as I munch my feed. I'm
wanting to learn whether anything's been heard from our mutual friend,
Buddy Warner, the best air mail pilot on the job today."
"I certainly hope he's turned up since we jumped off this morning," said
Jack with more than his customary earnestness. "There must be a dozen or
two ships scouring the country in search of Buddy." This pilot had never
reached his port of call two days back and is believed to be down
somewhere in that wild country among the big hills and canyons, either
dead or badly hurt and needing a helping hand right away.
Perk gave a hurried glance at the scare-heads on the front page of the
newspaper he had purchased and then grunted dismally.
"Nothin' doin' so far, partner," he announced with a sigh that welled up
from the very depths of his warm, friendly heart. "More ships a'startin'
out from every-which-way. A happenin' like this, when the lost guy
chances to be a friendly dick that everybody likes, seems to arouse that
sportsman spirit that you find in all air pilot circles. It gets to be a
reg'lar _fever_, with even famous flyers givin' up vacations they'd been
lookin' forward to for weeks, just to start out an' try to locate the
lost man. Huh! nothin'd tickle me more than a chance to lend a hand
myself, on'y we're in the Government's employ and can no more quit our
job than air mail lads could throw the letter sacks in the discard and
sail around peekin' into every gulch an' hidin' place in the mountains
in hopes o' bein' the lucky guy to fetch Buddy back."
"I'm mighty sorry nothing's been found out," said Jack, "but the boys
are sure to comb every rod of ground again and again until it's certain
he can't be located. But here's our restaurant Perk, so let's drop in
and dine."
-----
Footnote 1:
See the first volume of this Series, "_The Sky Detectives_."
Footnote 2:
See the preceding story entitled, "_Eagles of the Sky_."
II
PERK GROWS SUSPICIOUS
"I swan if it don't beat all creation what stuff these newspaper boys do
turn out when they're put on the job o' pickin' up sensational news,"
Perk was saying some time later as both he and his companion were
satisfying their hunger with such viands as appealed to their taste upon
the bill of fare.
"What ails you now, comrade?" asked Jack, smilingly for he always found
the strongly expressed likes and dislikes of his chum a never failing
well of interest that frequently brought out one of his seldom used
chuckles.
"Why, seems like they never let a chance get past to fetch Lindbergh
into the picture, no matter if he's three thousand miles off as the crow
flies. Here one account tells that it's '_reported_ our distinguished
air pilot's set out to lend a hand at findin' poor Buddy Warner,' who,
the story goes, 'used to be a blanket pal o' Lindbergh's away back in
them balmy days when Charles jumped with his little chute at county
fairs an' did the barn-stormin' racket. Not that he wouldn't be on the
job if on'y he didn't happen to be away off around New York right now,
up to his eyes in business connected with the new air line he's at the
head of. Course lots o' good folks'll swallow this story without a
question but it's jest a sample o' wild newspaper stuff--no man c'n be
on the Atlantic coast an' out here in the Rockies at the same time.
Gosh! but they do pull the wool over some people's eyes these
days--anything for a sensation an' to get the jump over the other cub
reporters."
"But Perk, we do happen to know that there are quite a number of noted
pilots out scouring the entire region and sticking to their job like
leeches, under their sporting slogan 'do as you'd be done by'."
"Sure thing, partner--that's legitimate news and not faked," agreed the
other with a grunt as he speared a small boiled onion of which he was
very fond, and thrust it into his mouth. "Lindbergh is a wonder, as we
all know, but there's a limit to his activities and it ain't fair to
want him to take hold o' everything that comes along. Now he's doubled
up and took him a wife. They reckon nothin' c'n be carried through
without his name bein' tacked on somehow or other. 'Taint fair to that
boy, an' them's my sentiments."
Jack shook his head and looked serious.
"Then the mystery is as deep as ever and they haven't yet found out what
happened to poor Buddy?" he asked, to which Perk shook his head in the
negative, saying:
"Never a thing--all wrapped up in a black fog--he started off in high
spirits and with a joke on his lips an' then disappeared like he never
was. Hang it all, why couldn't I have been doin' some other sorter job
where they might 'a' let me off for a spell? Nothin' I'd like better
than to comb the hull countryside in hopes o' findin' that bully boy--he
told me once 'bout that mother o' his'n. I kinder guess she must be a
peach, he thought so much o' her. Lands sake! but it might even kill her
if her boy ain't never heard from again. I'd give every dollar I got in
the wide world--which ain't boastin' none I know--if only I was a free
agent an' goin' on my own hook."
"Hard luck, partner," soothed Jack, laying a hand on the arm of his pal
as if to sympathize with the impulsive one; "but of course that's out of
the question, you and me--we're under a contract that can't be broken
recklessly, no matter what happens and we've just _got_ to keep
everlastingly on the job till our time is up when we can either renew or
get out."
"I guess you got it down pat, Jack," agreed the other with a heavy sigh
that told of his regret being genuine. Perk was one of those queer chaps
who are born with a stubborn itch to find _anything_ that is said to be
lost which would account in part for his having thrown in his fortunes
with both the Northwest Mounted Police and now the United States Secret
Service.
"Besides, there was a sort of intimation in that late letter from the
Big Boss," Jack went on to say, "that seemed to hint at something big
coming our way before very long so all we can do is to keep hoping for
some luck and doing our daily stunt flying so as to learn all the
wrinkles connected with our new cloud-chaser as you like to call the
ship we're attached to right now."
"Why do you keep on turning your head a little while you're eating I'd
like to know, Perk--got to seeing things again, like you did once
before, I remember?" continued Jack.
"Huh! I'm jest takin' a peep in that mirror over there partner," replied
Perk in a low tone that had a slight air of mystery about it, Jack
imagined.
"Pretty girl this time struck you where your heart is soft, eh, buddy?"
Jack inquired with a chuckle.
"Not this time old hoss--take a squint yourself--see them two fellers
sittin' at the corner table, where they c'n watch us?--well, seems like
they take a heap o' pleasure keepin' tabs on us while we sit here and
gobble. I'm wonderin' who and what they are also why they bother to keep
an eye on our actions right along."
"Yes, I can see them out of the tail of my eye," Jack told him. "Don't
you remember the pair in the big touring car that kept ducking after
us?--I reckon these boys are that same couple. Did you notice them
sitting there when we came in?"
"Nothin' doin' that way, Boss," Perk told him with a positive ring to
his voice. "I chanced to turn my head a few minutes after we got settled
down, an' they were walkin' over to that corner like they'd sized up the
table as if it suited their plans. Ever since, they've kept talkin' in
low tones, an' watchin' us like I've seen a fox do, hidin' in the brush
an' waitin' for a fat young partridge to come close enough for him to
make a spring and grab his dinner."
Jack refused to become flustered, even if Perk showed signs of being
annoyed.
"Oh!" he went on to remark casually, "chances are they may be some of
those pests of newspaper boys, scenting a scoop of a story for their
sensation loving sheets--competition is so keen these days they lie
awake nights I'm told, and accept all sorts of chances of being kicked
out if only they can get the right sort of stuff to build up into a
thriller."
"Mebbe so, mebbe so," grumbled the indignant Perk, "but anyhow I don't
like it a bit. That dark-faced guy strikes me as a pretty tough sort o'
scrapper, one I'd hate to smack up against in a dark alley an' the other
ain't much shakes as a good-looker either. Jack, do you think they know
who we are and got some sort o' grudge against us on 'count o' the trade
we foller, eh, what?"
"Oh! it might be so," replied the other, "anything is possible and while
we've been lucky enough to hide our light under a bushel all the time
we've hung around the Cheyenne airport, we couldn't expect to keep that
game up indefinitely, you understand. After all, we hope to be pulling
our freight and slipping out of this burg before long. So we'll just
keep our eyes open for stormy weather and be on our guard."
"Hot ziggetty dog! I sure do hope now they ain't meanin' to bust in on
our fine ship an' play hob with her--wouldn't that jar you though,
partner?" and Perk could be seen to grind those big white teeth of his
as if gripped by a spasm of rage almost beyond his control. Like the
Arab whose love for his horse is said to exceed any affection for his
wife, most sky pilots feel an overpowering regard for their ship in
which they risk their lives every time they jump off and Perk was
peculiarly built that way.
"That would be a calamity for a fact," admitted Jack, giving the two men
under suspicion another little survey, "but we've got a good guard
keeping tabs over the boat and he's empowered to shoot if some one tries
any funny business out at the hangar, so I reckon there's nothing to
worry over in that direction."
Perk continued to grumble, half beneath his breath, showing how he felt
under the skin about the matter. Jack on his part skillfully directed
the low conversation into other and more cheerful channels so that
presently, after the two strangers had passed out of the restaurant,
Perk seemed to put them aside as "false alarms" and entered into the
discussion of the merits of their beloved cloud-chaser with a modicum of
his usual good nature which was just what his chum wished to have
happen, so as to clear the atmosphere, which, in Perk's case was getting
considerably muddy.
III
THE HOLD-UP
Jack had certainly shown considerable cunning in starting to talk about
some of the clever and novel devices with which their new ship was
equipped in order to turn the attention of his chum into more pleasant
channels for Perk soon became most eloquent in speaking of those
wonderful discoveries.
"It sure is a great stunt, us bein' able to quit the ground in ten
shakes o' a lamb's tail," he was speedily remarking, "'stead of havin'
to take such a long an' often bumpy run. The way that boat acts under
your pilotin' makes me think o' how a clumsy buzzard when scared, gives
a hop up into the air for a few feet, starts them big wings o' his'n
workin' and goes hoppetty-skip-petty off on an upward slant. Seems like
the next thing we know we'll have some sorter contraption that'll jest
give us a toss, like you'd fling a pigeon up, for a gunner to smack
after it'd started to fly out o' bounds."
"I understand," Jack told him, smoothly enough, "they've got something
mighty near as wonderful as that, only it lacks just a little finishing
touch to make it sure pop. Five years from now the boys who've come
through with their lives will be looking back to _our_ day as being
still in the woods, and us pilots rough neck amateurs--such staggering
things will be the regular line by then."
"Jest see how the've changed a heap o' the instruments we used to swear
by in them days o' the big war over in France, eh Jack? You don't see so
much difference, but us boys who were in that scrap sometimes c'n hardly
believe it's the same aviation world we're livin' in. From compass to
pontoons, a dozen or two things have been vastly improved. Look at the
new ship; we got aluminum pontoons to let us light on the water of a
river, lake or the sea itself and with the wheels set in the shoes so as
to make a landin' on dry land whenever we feel like it."
"Pretty slick trick that, I own up, buddy," admitted Jack, "and best of
all they seem to work like magic in the bargain. And of course we still
go under the same old name of _amphibian_, for we can drop down anywhere
with only a fair-sized opening."
"Too bad they didn't give the fine boat a name--havin' only a number
gives it a sorter orphan look, strikes me," continued Perk, thus voicing
an old grievance that thus far he had kept to himself.
"I knew that bone was bothering you some, partner," Jack told him, "and
now you've mentioned it we might as well have it out. Names are all very
fine for ordinary airships because there's every reason for giving them
publicity, which helps business along; but in our case that's exactly
what we want to avoid like a sick tooth. Get that now, brother, do you?"
"Huh! I flop, partner--queer how I didn't think o' that before you
mentioned it jest now. Some day mebbe I'll be workin' in a line that
don't have to keep things shady all the time--gettin' my fill o'
sneakin' an' snoopin' so's to pull in results."
"Here's wishing you luck, boy," Jack was saying with a vein of
seriousness in his voice, "but see here what's bearing down on us like a
ship under full sail?--he must have been out of sight behind that
partition all the time we've sat here--got a wide grin on his sunburned
face, which looks kind of familiar to me. Know him, Perk?"
"Zowie! I'd jest say I do partner, don't you see, it's my old friend
Cyclone Davis, the cowboy we've seen more'n once doin' his stunts on the
screen. Hey there, Cyclone, where'd you pop up from, old pard?"
Perk in evident excitement had jumped up from his chair and with
outstretched hand met the oncoming grinning range rider with tumultuous
joy, slapping him on the back, wringing his hand furiously and giving a
most energetic display of delight at the unexpected meeting.
"Sit down here an' have a little chin, Cyclone--meet my side partner,
Jack Ralston. Got to walk back to our room with us so's to tell how you
happened to break into the movies an' make such a big hit. Glory! didn't
it bring back old times when I saw you prancin' around, knocking some
big guy on his back like you used to do when in the prize ring as a
comin' welterweight champion. Now, start doin' your stuff, old pard."
Innumerable questions from the excited Perk brought out more or less
interesting information for Cyclone proved to be quite a good talker.
They managed to keep their voices lowered, although it could be plainly
seen Jud Davis was as a rule built along the jolly and noisy type of
optimistic chap, such as make hosts of friends wherever they roam; but
he seemed to sense the fact that the two in whose company he now found
himself wished to keep strangers from overhearing the subject of their
confab and thus toned down his effusiveness accordingly.
That was a subject Jack kept constantly in mind--the avoidance of
anything calculated to put the spot-light of public attention on his
doings--he would have been broken hearted if some morning, after having
played a big game to a successful conclusion, with his man safely lodged
behind the bars, to see on the front page of the daily papers a picture
of himself, no matter how poorly executed and thus holding a member of
the Government Secret Service up for every lawbreaker in the wide land
to stamp on his mind as something to be never forgotten and thus greatly
lessen his capacity for efficient work.
"We're jest about through here, old hoss," Perk finally told the other
"an' you jest got to fall in so's to sit with us a while in our room so
we c'n tell you what we're a'doin' as boon pals. I know right well it'll
never go any further, 'cause you happen to be one o' them fellers what
c'n button their lips tight as a clam, with never a single leak."
"That's all right, Perk," came the other's reassuring answer, "I've got
a few hours more to spend in Cheyenne and then I'm heading direct for
the old motion picture studios at Hollywood to do a few easy stunts in a
new picture they're going to build up--I'm a cow puncher again, you
understand, Perk, though I own up now and then my old fighting
profession comes in pretty well when there's some scrapping taking place
between the cowboy mob and the cattle rustlers or Mex outlaws of the
border."
Perk listened to everything the other said with an enraptured expression
upon his face, he doubtless was able to mentally picture some of those
exciting episodes described by Cyclone and felt an itch to be in similar
hand-to-hand battles where real blows were exchanged in order to make
the scene realistic when depicted on the silver screen.
Jack could hear him giving many a full-sized sigh when Cyclone was
running off some of his many adventures with a vein of real humor back
of his provocative words and from this could readily believe his chum
was having the time of his life.
After a while they all arose, and paying their reckoning at the desk,
the proprietor eyed the trio as though he rather suspected they must be
Tom Mix and some of his movie friends off on a holiday jaunt--possibly
there must have been a certain jaunty air about Cyclone's manner that
stamped him as belonging to those who moved out on location and cut all
manner of amazing capers before the camera.
It proved to be pretty dark on the street with few persons abroad,
although the hour was not late. The neighborhood happened to be a bit
lonely, Jack noticed as they walked along three abreast, Cyclone
continuing a recital of some comical as well as near tragic happening
through which he had lately passed.
They would not have very far to go to reach their destination which had
been one of the reasons for Jack selecting the Emporium as their dining
place its convenience appealing to him more than anything else.
At a certain point where the gloom was somewhat more dense than in other
localities, Jack noticed a motor standing close to the curb and with one
of its rear doors standing open. The engine was running, for its steady
throb could be plainly heard. But then such a thing is no uncommon
occurrence when some busy folks have trouble in starting the engine and
prefer to leave it running while they dash into the house for a minute
or so.
Just as they came opposite, he noted that it was a large touring car but
the significance of this was borne in upon Jack's mind with a rush when
two dark figures suddenly sprang out from behind the waiting motor, and
with outstretched hands confronted himself and companions while a deep
bass voice snapped out the words:
"Put 'em up, and be snappy about it too, boys!"
IV
A CHANCE CLUE
It was a holdup pure and simple, appearances would indicate. Jack could
see in the uncertain light that each of the men gripped a gat in his
fingers, covering the astonished trio; he also made out that they had
handkerchiefs covering the lower portions of their faces, which made it
all the more interesting, since nothing was lacking to fix the picture
in the mind as worthy of the latest movie thriller.
Jack apparently started to raise both hands in obedience to the order so
brusquely given but with an incredibly speedy move he suddenly threw out
his fight hand and caught the wrist of the nearest holdup man, giving it
a twist that compelled the bandit to let his gun fall to the ground.
Then there was Cyclone, true to form as his nick-name would indicate,
making a lightning play and leaping on the second bandit with the
agility of a Canada lynx pouncing on a bounding rabbit.
This fellow, taken off his guard it seemed, managed to shoot but the
bullet went wild and before he could recover enough to do any damage he
was being whirled this way and that in the dazzling fashion shown by the
cowboy actor in all his pictures and which had gained him his well
earned fame.
Poor Perk, who was left in the lurch, there being no third party in
sight whom he could tackle, hardly knew what to do--he kept jumping from
one whirlagig to the other, endeavoring to get in a swing with his fist
but with rather meager success for he feared to exert himself to the
utmost since there was danger of the blow coming in contact with a
friendly head instead of the one he meant to strike.
Jack had knocked his man down twice by well directed blows but each time
the rascal climbed to his feet again, being no mean hand it seemed at a
scrimmage. He must have been built along the bulldog line more or less,
for even while taking a lot of punishment he still stuck to his guns.
The third time he managed to close in and again they went spinning round
and round, held fast in each others' arms, breathing hard, and
endeavoring to effect a windup of the struggle.
Perhaps the would-be holdup man may have begun to suspect that the
pistol-shot would likely enough bring some one running to the spot--even
a cop who may have been on duty not far away, at any rate he began to
fight most desperately to break loose, thinking that discretion would be
the better part of valor and that "he who fights and runs away, may live
to fight another day," as the old saying has it.
At first, somewhat to Jack's astonishment, he realized the man was
trying with might and main to force him toward the open door of the
touring car as though it may have been his intention to take him "for a
ride." That significant phrase had become so notorious of late, in
accounts of rival gang fights in the big cities of the East, that Jack
really began to believe these men aimed to carry him off in their
touring car to do something terrible when outside the city limits and
then toss him out on the side of the road as a victim to some unknown
species of hatred and revenge.
Of course there was no time just then to try and analyze this strange
supposition for all his energies must be engaged in endeavoring to down
the unknown who was just then locked in his arms.
Cyclone was having a beautiful time, giving his man a full measure of
the stuff that lay in those steel muscles of his and which had doped out
many a case of k.o. when he was in the prize ring. Indeed the fellow was
so confused and befuddled by the cracks he received on his head and
chest that he put up only a puny defense.
It proved to be such a one-sided affair that Cyclone felt ashamed to
keep doing all the hitting and presently lifting the almost senseless
wretch he actually tossed him into the car with a crash.
This seemed to give Jack's opponent a flash of commonsense for he burst
out of the encircling arms and dove after his pal, Jack having no desire
to follow after and try to drag him out again, since as a rule he was
far from being a hog for punishment.
The man lost not a second in starting his machine which went off down
the dimly lighted street like a crazy thing, zigzagging from curb to
curb, just as Jack remembered seeing shown in comics on the screen.
There was disconsolate Perk, looking as provoked as any one could be,
shaking his head, and punching one fist into the other palm.
"Such rotten luck!" he was moaning as he strode around the late
battlefield. "Every feller had his hand in but poor me; what've I done
to be cheated out o' my share like I was a baby? Why, oh! why wasn't
there three bums in the bunch, just enough to go around; dang 'em, why
did they want to crab my game like that?"
Jack who could keep from bursting into a loud laugh only through severe
measures along the line of repression, managed to soothe the unhappy
Perk by judicious words of sympathy.
"If only I'd known you wanted a little exercise so much partner," he
observed without the flicker of a smile, "why, I'd have tossed him over
to you with pleasure. Then Cyclone here should have slipped you his bird
while he was jumping him around at such a great rate. However, it's past
now, and the damage can't be mended. Next opening that comes along,
brother, I solemnly promise to let you try your hand so it won't get out
of practice."
"That's a bargain, Jack old hoss," Perk hastened to say as if anxious to
make it a compact between them, "an' I won't say what'll be on the cards
when I try an' make up for all the times I've been cheated o' my share
o' the gate receipts. Now, what next I wonder?"
"We'll just trot along home and see if there are any hurts needing
attention," replied Jack. "That one I tackled could squeeze like a bear
but my being able with a hand free to swat him several times in the
jowl, made him ease up more or less until in the end he weakened and
went skidoo. Come along fellows, let's be hiking into the next street
where we put up and get our sleep."
Everybody seemed quite willing to call it the close of a perfect day and
let things go at that--the holdup men had long since vanished from view;
there was more or less danger of a prowling cop having heard that sound
of firing and after summoning help, might be on the way to learn the
cause. Not wishing to be mixed up in anything that might hold them in
Cheyenne for days awaiting a police court trial, Jack had plenty of good
reasons for wanting to depart while the going was good. So they trotted
along, arm in arm.
In good order they reached the private house where the two flyers slept
and soon were sitting in the most comfortable fashion possible in the
apartment. Perk had carefully closed and locked the door, something Jack
could not remember him doing all the time they had been housed under
that hospitable roof which showed how wrought up Perk must have become.
"An' I'm still a'wonderin' what their silly game could a been," he was
saying in a whining tone accompanied with another shake of his head.
"None o' us look a bit like bloated plutocrats, 'less it might be
Cyclone here but seems like that tall lad was a'tryin' to shove you into
his blamed old car, Jack like they wanted to kidnap you--noticed that
didn't you?"
"Well it struck me that way too, Perk," he was told unhesitatingly,
"which has me guessing good and hard; what reason could they have for
wanting to knock me out of the running--taking me for a ride that way?"
"Shucks! partner," commented Perk immediately, "they be a'plenty o' guys
who'd laugh to know you an' me'd kicked the bucket, pe'ticularly you,
Jack. Some o' them lads you've sent up to the pen might have pals at
large who'd be ready to make you cash in for playin' them a trick that
cost 'em their liberty. Revenge I kinder guess is a poisonous weed that
takes a quick rooting in the average prison bird's heart--sorter helps
to make him better able to bear the years he's got to serve. If on'y he
could know the man as sent him into quod had been rapped on the head and
kicked out o' a speedin' car."
"That makes me think of something," Jack remarked just then as he rammed
a hand down into one of his coat pockets and drew a yellow piece of
paper out. "I chanced to see this lying on the pavement after our birds
had taken French leave; it may help us to understand what now looks like
a dark mystery beyond our solving."
He glanced at what turned out to be a much handled telegraph sheet with
typewriting on one side. Perk showed sudden interest when he saw how his
partner seemed startled and uttered as exclamation indicative of
pleasure.
V
WHEN A COG SLIPPED
"What's up, partner?" demanded Perk who always admitted to being more or
less curious-minded.
"Something I happened to pick up," replied Jack, grinning happily,
"after that chap dived into his car and tore off down the street like a
house afire."
"Huh! strikes me it looks kinder like a telegraph message buddy," Perk
replied eagerly as if he began to smell something like a fire burning.
"Go up head boy, you said it," his mate told him. "Here, read what it
says for yourself--you too, Cyclone, though it'll be Greek to you since
you don't happen to know the gent who sent it to Cheyenne."
Perk glued his eager eyes to the yellow slip of paper and as he took in
the printed words he held his breath--as if unable to fully grasp the
whole meaning of the message with only one reading, he started again,
this time going over it aloud.
"Adolph Barkus, 173 Evergreen Street,
"Cheyenne, Wyoming.
"Have received positive information they are in your city. Pay
particular attention to the young flyer. Treat him with
brotherly kindness and to please me take him for a nice, long
ride. Keep me posted. Things down here in something of a snarl.
Better drop in and report. I may need you the worst way.
"Kearns."
"Hot ziggetty dog! what d'ye think o' that measly rum-runner bobbin' up
like a floatin' cork to annoy us again?"
Perk gave all the signs of annoyance--he clenched his fist, frowned most
horribly and drew a long breath as though his feelings threatened to
overwhelm him entirely.
"Oh! we landed that gent behind the bars all right," Jack remarked,
taking things much more coolly than the excitable one, "but it's hard to
keep a man with a big wad of long-green shut up--he hires a celebrated
lawyer, gets out on heavy bail, has his case postponed on one account or
another until witnesses disappear and the public forgets what it's all
about. Like as not he's as free as either of us, only it may be he's
forbidden to leave the State of Florida pending his trial--you notice
the message was dispatched from Jacksonville."
"From his getting on our track I kinder guess the gent must feel a bit
peeved at the firm o' Ralston an' Perkiser. Brotherly kindness,
eh?--take him for a nice long ride--how swell that'd be--an' all jest to
please Mr. Oswald Kearns, the high light o' most o' the schemes hatched
up to run in case goods from Bimimi along the Florida shore."
Then Perk forgot his indignation long enough to grin as though the
humorous side of the case struck him.
"Such great luck I never did see," he burst out, "to think o' you
pickin' up his telegram so pat after we'd kicked him an' his slinkin'
pal off the lot. That's what I'd call incriminatin' evidence, partner
and if ever the case is called an' we're sent down to Florida to tell
'bout our part o' the mess, this message ought to make the jury sit up
an' take notice, sure as I'm born it ought"
"I'll keep it safe, you can well believe, Perk and I'm not bothering my
head about those two sneaks for they're not apt to give us any further
trouble after what happened to them tonight. When this Mr. Barkus
discovers how he must have dropped his fine telegram, he'll suspect it
fell into our hands and the chances are he'll give us a wide berth the
rest of our stay in this burg."
"Jest so Jack, an' let's hope we're goin' to climb out o' here right
soon now. The dirty scoundrels--wantin' to give you a _ride_, was they?
Which means in these days take a feller off into the country, knock him
on the head an' dump him out on the road like he was a log. Zowie! times
is out o' joint strikes me, when these pesky gangs think nothin' o'
murderin' a man 'cause they don't like the color o' his necktie."
Cyclone had listened to this exchange of conversation between his two
companions and the look on his face plainly told that he could not grasp
what it was all about.
"I'd like to get a grip on what all this clatter's about, boys, if
neither of you object. I ought to be starting back to Hollywood in the
morning for they're shouting and sending hot wires telling me I'm
holding up the show; but since I'm crazy to see that boat of yours, and
you promised me a little gallop up among the clouds, I'm bound to wait
over till afternoon, no matter what happens to the bunch on the
Coast--they c'n use my understudy till I choose to lope along and be
hanged to 'em. Now, what about putting me wise to the game that was
sprung on you tonight?"
"Nothing to hinder our telling you what we ran up against down in
Florida last winter," remarked Jack and as they settled back in their
chairs in comfort he explained all about the mixup as recorded in the
previous volume of this series.
Cyclone proved an attentive listener, eagerly drinking in the
particulars--nodding his head approvingly at certain points that
appealed especially to his discriminating mind until the finishing
stroke had been laid bare when he jumped up to shake hands boisterously
with both Jack and Perk and to give vent to his feelings in words.
"By the great horn spoon! so that's the bully sort of life you fellers
in the Secret Service lead, is it?" he exclaimed with flashing eyes and
an expression of eagerness on his enraptured face. "Some fine day, after
I've had a few words with my director and told him where he gets off,
I'll be hanged if I don't strike out for Washington and try to bore my
way into the game you're following--suits my spirit to the dot--lots of
adventure, fair pay and the thrill of turning back these smart alecs who
think they own the world because they've got a speed boat and the jack
to buy a load of hard stuff in the Bahamas that they figure on landing
along our coast."
"That mightn't be such a bad idea, Cyclone, for a man built like you and
who yearns for excitement," observed Jack sympathetically, for he could
understand just how the other must feel. "When you get to that point of
kicking over the traces in the picture game let me know and perhaps I
can speak a good word for you at Headquarters. They're always in need of
the right sort of men. Remember that, will you, Cyclone?"
"You bet I will Jack, and I mean every word I say, too. I've never gone
up in an airship yet, but the desire's been gripping me a heap lately
and perhaps, after I make the try tomorrow morning, that you've so
kindly promised me, the fever'll get so high I just won't be able to
hold back any longer."
"That depends on how you come through your examination," Jack plainly
explained. "A lot of boys have an itch to make the riffle, but are
turned down because they lack some one of a dozen requirements that are
positively essential these modern days to get a pilot's license. But as
far as I can see, you ought to pass with flying colors--no joke intended
either."
They sat there chatting for several hours. Cyclone's enthusiasm fairly
bubbled over at times as he listened to some of the accounts of
adventures that had befallen both Jack and Perk in days gone by.