my young life with foolish cowboy stunts and make believe fights in the
pictures. It's pretty much a fake business and gets on my nerves--even
many of the most thrilling scenes are fakes of the worst kind--pulling
the wool over the eyes of the simple public. I got a notion I'm built
for something that's genuine and not a fraud--when you lads get into a
mess it's the real thing and you can put your heart in the action
without a director yelling at you and ordering it all done
over--sometimes as many as five times, till his royal highness is
satisfied and you're all worn to a shred with the hard work. Bah! me for
the open and a life of genuine adventure, every time."
"Je-ru-salem crickets! but you have got it bad, partner!" croaked Perk
grinning happily as he spoke. "Goin' are you, Cyclone?--well, we'll pick
you up about nine on the way to the flyin' field. So-long--mighty glad
we run across you tonight and had a chance to see how you work, them
fists o' yourn. The Service could make good use o' a few real scrappers
and I'd say the chance o' you buttin' in is gilt-edged."
So closed a day that was not without its redeeming features, even Perk
being satisfied that things were moving along the line of adventure and
excitement.
VI
CYCLONE PROVES GAME
In the morning after they had partaken of a late breakfast, Jack and his
pal stepped around the corner to get a taxi, pick up Cyclone as per
arrangement and proceed out to the flying field.
"For one thing," Perk was remarking as they stepped gaily along, "we
ain't noticed any sign o' them gringoes we licked so neat last night.
Guess they had their little tummies filled up with excitement and right
now may be rubbin' arnica on their hurts. Wow! but I'd hate to've got
them socks Cyclone passed on to his party--must have near broke his nose
for I saw his face was gettin' fair bloody when he was snatched up and
tossed into the car."
They found the ex-fighter and cow puncher waiting anxiously for them, he
having been abroad early and had his customary morning meal. Later on
they arrived at the landing field and found everything "okay" as Perk
put it. He had confessed to a little anxiety concerning the safety of
their ship but the man they had hired to stand guard had not seen or
heard anything suspicious during the entire night.
"Huh! guess they feel too blamed sore this mornin' to be up an' around,"
was the sensible conclusion arrived at by Perk after his fears had been
dissipated and in this summing up of the conditions he was seconded by
Jack, likewise their mutual friend, Cyclone Davis.
It was Jack's custom to always have his ship in condition for an
immediate flight--there could be no telling how soon an order might
reach them giving directions for a hasty takeoff with their goal any old
place as Perk was accustomed to remarking off-hand.
Consequently there was always a full tank of gas on board together with
plenty of lubricating oil and all manner of essential things so
necessary to a successful flight. Of course, as a rule they could drop
down at some wayside landing field for the purpose of replenishing their
stores since the whole country was becoming dotted with such necessary
places, some of them gorgeously fitted up with everything in the way of
landing lights, extra hangars for visiting ships and even service plants
for supplying gasoline with little effort.
Cyclone displayed no actual concern as he was secured in his seat by a
stout leather strap, having also had the parachute harness fastened to
his back. He watched every move of his two experienced companions with
eagerness and asked not a few pertinent questions, thus showing his
desire to know all there was connected with the flying game.
Then the pilot gave her the gun and they started to move along with
constantly accelerated speed until presently Jack lifted his charge and
they no longer found themselves in contact with the earth but mounting
toward the blue sky overhead.
Up, up they climbed with great spirals marking their course--the earth
below began to lose its individual proportions and looked like an
immense checkerboard to the thrilled cowpuncher.
Cyclone could be seen twisting his head this way and that, eager to see
everything. Perk, noting this, nodded his head as though feeling
positive the other was going to fall in love with flying. Dashing across
the plains on a cow pony, pursued by made-up Indians and all that
regular sort of stuff must seem mighty tame to him after moving through
the air at the rate of possibly a hundred and fifty miles an hour with
the motor and propeller keeping up a constant roaring sound and all with
the consciousness that he was several miles above the earth, amidst
floating fleecy clouds, with even the high-flying eagle far, far
beneath.
Jack took special pains to give the ambitious comrade such a ride as he
could never have imagined, even in his wildest dreams--he put the new
boat through all manner of ordinary stunts, even turning over so that
they kept going ahead at a fair pace while flying upside-down--he went
through dizzy revolutions, banked sharply and carried on generally as
skillful pilots seem to take great delight in doing.
All this never seemed to bother Cyclone a particle--perhaps his
experience as a cowboy may have assisted him to meet the numerous
thrills without quailing.
Of course he could not talk with either of his friends for hearing was
next to impossible since Jack was not making use of the silencer that
had been made a part of the "furniture" of the new ship--but he nodded
his head joyfully whenever he found Perk watching him with a question in
his eye.
The two pilots had their head-phones in position, for they would no
doubt like to hold communication from time to time. Thus it happened
that Jack, chancing to think of something, addressed his chum.
"Forgot to ask you whether they'd learned anything about our lost
friend, Buddy Warner--how about it, Perk?"
The other mechanically shook his head in the negative.
"Nothing doin' along them lines, sorry to say partner," he explained.
"To be sure there was a'plenty o' rumors, but the paper said nobody had
learned a blamed thing that'd stand the wash. Afraid Buddy's gone under
an' that the on'y thing left to do is to come across his crashed boat in
some canyon off there in the Rockies. Tough, all right, but then us
flyers jest got to look at sech mishaps as all in the line o' duty--it's
like bein' a soldier all over again, ready to start out mornin's without
a ghost o' an idee we'll be back to eat another meal or write a last
letter home."
"I'm mighty sorry to hear that, Perk. Buddy was a fine boy and everybody
liked him. That old mother of his, too, it may be the death of her.
Hurts to feel that no matter how many pilots may be scouring the land
they just can't seem to dig up even a little clue to tell where he
dropped out of sight and never was heard from again--not even a flower
could be dropped on his grave if they wanted to."
Jack had taken a wild ride through cloudland, going something like two
hundred miles and then swinging around to make the return trip after
that he had climbed to a ceiling of something like twenty thousand feet
until they were all shivering with the frigid air. Still Cyclone never
flinched--indeed, he did not even display the slightest inclination to
beg Jack to drop down where it was warmer--in fact he showed all the
signs of one who would eventually make an exceptionally good flyer,
could he but pass his examination successfully.
It was close to high noon when they landed after the most thrilling
morning in all Cyclone's checkered life. Before he said goodbye to his
two pals he squeezed their hands, and with a face illumined said in his
determined way:
"Me for a pilot's license, boys and when I've done my fifty hours of
solo flying and get my papers, behold me making a bee-line for
Washington and breaking into Uncle Sam's Secret Service corps. I'm a
fade-out as a movie actor, and I feel that my star of destiny calls on
me to be a cloud chaser, getting after law breakers in the air across
the land from the Atlantic seaboard to the Gold Coast; ditto on the sea
to the ends of the earth. Wish me luck, fellows and here's hoping that
some day we'll all be pals in a great game. If ever you get to Los
Angeles drop in and see me at Hollywood--if I'm still on deck and doing
my little stunts rescuing fair maidens and beating the villains black
and blue--all in your eye, boys."
They were sorry to see him go, for Cyclone had turned out to be a most
enjoyable companion as Jack told Perk more than a few times.
Since the morning flight had covered so much in the way of stunt flying,
speed testing and altitude climbing, Jack decided there was hardly any
necessity for their going out again in the afternoon. So they figured on
taking things comfortably in their room, catching up with their sadly
neglected correspondence, and even getting in a nap or two while waiting
for their usual supper hour to come along.
The sun was well down in the western heavens when a knock on their door
caused Jack to answer it. Perk could hear him speaking to the lady from
whom they hired the room, then Jack came back examining a yellow bit of
paper, meanwhile giving Perk a peculiar look that somehow caused the
other to jump up excitedly and exclaim:
"Hot ziggetty dog! that strikes me like a wire, partner, tell me, has
our order to strike out and get busy come along--gee whiz! I'm trembling
all over with eagerness to know what our next line's goin' to be!"
VII
THEY ARE OFF!
Jack lost no time in answering the pleading look in Perk's eyes.
"Order's come at last, brother and we're due to skip out of this burg
just as soon as we can get a bite to eat."
"Where to, Jack--north, east, south or west?" babbled the pleased Perk.
"Looks like it might be the last you named," he was told.
"And if it ain't a dead secret would you mind tellin' me what sort of a
jaunt we're pushed on to this time--is it to be a hunt, partner?"
"I'd say it was, and with a vengeance too," admitted Jack, still holding
his chum over imaginary hot coals in that he declined to hasten with the
information so urgently desired.
"So that's all settled, hey? And what are we supposed to be huntin', if
it's just the same to you to cough up that necessary information--more
rum-chasers--bogus money-makers--check raisers, mebbe--runaway cashier
with all the bank funds--which is it buddy?"
"Never came within a mile of the right answer," Jack assured him with
one of his puzzling smiles. "Fact is, it's a pilot we're ordered to
fetch in."
"Pilot--say, do we have to shoot out to sea after a steamship that's
carried off its harbor pilot--such rotten luck, when we expected
something real big to take up our time and labor--shucks!"
"Wait, you jump at conclusions all too soon, Perk my boy. There happen
to be several other kinds of pilots besides those who fetch ocean
steamships in and out of New York harbor or the Golden Gate at San
Francisco--for instance those on river steamboats, it might be, or those
of airplanes!"
"Airships did you say, Jack?" roared Perk, his eyes widening while he
clutched the hand that held the telegram as though tempted to try and
read the printed words he could just manage to see upon the sheet.
"Yes, air-mail pilot in the bargain," Jack fired at him.
"Hot ziggetty dog! do you mean a _missing_ mail pilot and his name
is----"
"Buddy Warner--that's right Perk, no other."
The most ecstatic expression imaginable crossed the face of the amiable
Perk to proclaim better than any words could ever tell just what he
thought of the great news he had just heard.
"I'm _so_ glad, partner--nobody could've fetched me better news than
what you're telling me right now. If I was asked what I'd like best to
do--jest what line o' work I'd be crazy to handle, I'd say it was to
take a look in at every pesky canyon and sinkhole along the mountain
ranges in hopes o' findin' that fine lad an' fetch him back home to his
old mammy. And now you're givin' me my best wish right off the bat. Go
on an' tell me what it says, that wire they sent you."
"That we are to drop anything and everything else and start out to help
find Buddy Warner; they must think a heap of that mail pilot for our
Boss to issue such a broad order as that. It means we've got to jump off
before night sets in and head for the western town where he was last
seen. It also means we'll be on the job for days, or anyway until we get
orders it's no use combing the gullies and ravines and canyons any
longer for the missing pilot must be dead."
"Can't strike off any too soon to please me, Jack. I'd even go without
any grub if by saving an hour we could have a better chance o' strikin'
pay dirt an' turnin' him up alive."
"No such desperate hurry as all that," the other assured him to put a
quietus on his nervous desire to be winging their way toward the scene
of all the excitement and thus add one more ship to the flotilla already
seeking information concerning the whereabouts of the missing mail
pilot. "Also, Perk, as nobody knows when we may get another chance to
eat, it would be wise for us to take advantage of the present
opportunity as well as lay in a little grub for emergencies. For all any
one can say to the contrary it may be our hard luck to get caught in an
air pocket and take a tumble just as Buddy probably did when such things
would come in mighty handy. I'm leaving that little task for you to
handle, Perk, because you're right clever when it's grub that's needed."
"Yeah, I always aim to be that way an' I take it as a compliment you're
payin' me when you talk that way. Nobody c'n amount to thirty cents when
he hasn't stoked his engine properly with fuel."
"I don't know whether you're on to it or not, brother," pursued Jack as
they began to hastily assemble their few possessions preparatory to
stepping out; "but I've been clipping every account I could find in the
papers you fetched home, covering Buddy's dropping out of sight."
"Huh! I sure did take notice of the fact, but never dreamin' we'd have a
peep-in at this wide search. I jest guessed you was enough int'rested to
want to compare these here wise-cracks about the cause o' his trouble
with what it really must a'been, in case they found the remains o' his
crate in some canyon or gully."
"That was one reason," admitted Jack candidly, "but somehow, though I
never let on to you, I seemed to have a sort of feeling we might be
working on that mystery sooner or later--you might call it an
_inspiration_ and let it go at that."
"Glory be Jack, an' what have you got in that wise coco o' yourn, if
it's all right for you to up an' spill the game?"
"Some time while we're on our way," the other explained just as if he
had the thing all laid out, even to the smallest particulars, "while
you're running the ship, I mean to go carefully over those newspaper
reporters' accounts and try to figure out just what could have happened
to bring about Buddy's disappearance--also, find what sort of weather he
must have struck right after jumping off from his last port of call to
drop mail sacks and pick up others."
Perk thereupon wagged his head as though he began to understand what a
skillful way his chum had of getting at the "meat in the cocoanut."
"No wildcat skirmishin', an' heatin' about the bush for _you_, eh
partner?" he blurted out in sincere admiration. "An' I'd wager all I got
in my jeans you're bound to hit on the real facts when everything's
figgered up."
"Don't be too sure about that brother," advised Jack, shaking his head
as he spoke, "I'll certainly do my level best, but you never can tell
how the cat's going to jump. It's one thing to theorize and quite
another to hit on what's the truth. I'll try and separate the wheat from
the chaff and by degrees build up a little story of my own that may, and
again may not, cover the ground. Now let's clear out of this after we've
paid our landlady what we owe for our room, and thank her for being so
kind to a couple of forlorn bachelor flyers."
This was soon done and shortly afterwards they sat down to have a last
meal in their favorite restaurant, Perk meanwhile having laid in a
certain amount of supplies in the way of such food as they could take
care of while on the wing.
Then they hastened to the flying field to have their ship hauled out of
the hangar, tuned up for the last time and give them an opportunity to
"kick-off," as Perk was pleased to call it, before darkness fell.
Perk secretly had been entertaining a little fear lest at the last
minute something not down on the bills might spring a leak and bring
about an unfortunate delay in their departure--so much time had already
passed since the disappearance of the air-mail pilot that another six or
ten hours must seem deplorable--but fortunately nothing untoward came
along. The ship was trundled to a nearby point where Jack figured they
should take off, basing his decision on the way the wind happened to be
blowing and after a brief examination they pronounced their air steed to
be in perfect trim.
Jack shook hands with the late guardian of their plane as he slipped an
extra bill into his possession so too, did Perk thank him warmly
concerning the way he had performed his duty for since those enemies had
failed in their attempt to "take them for a ride," it had always been
possible for them to cripple the new cloud chaser so that something
dreadful was likely to happen when they were a mile from the ground.
Nothing now remained for them to do save settle down in their
seats--they had donned their dungarees, fixed their helmets and chute
packs and in other ways prepared for a long flight into the west.
Already it had grown dusk, although the sun could not be far down below
the horizon and very likely they would glimpse his smiling face again
when they had climbed toward cloud-land so Jack gave her the gun and
with a roar they sped down the field.
VIII
BIRDS OF A FEATHER
Just as they had expected they soon glimpsed the descending sun when
they had attained a certain altitude and at the same time the earth far
below was almost lost to sight, since the night haze was settling down.
Perk, having nothing else of importance to do, was arranging their
headphone apparatus so that in case they wished to make any sort of talk
it could be readily carried out in spite of the continuous clamor
surrounding them. This new ship was also supplied with that recent
invention known as a silencer--long used in connection with firearms by
the way, and now applied to the motor of a plane with successful
results--Jack had not thought it necessary to bring it into play since
it retarded the speed of the ship to some extent and there was no
necessity for demanding a cessation of the dreadful clatter and droning.
Jack had headed directly into the west as soon as their craft attained a
sufficient altitude. He had his chart on the airways well studied, and
knew just where and when they could strike a line of beacons, such as
have been arranged for air mail pilots in their night journeys to and
fro with their complement of letter sacks and possibly express matter.
After a short interval the sun disappeared even for these high flyers
and the stars gradually began to dot the blue heavens overhead.
"If you don't mind Perk," the head pilot was saying, as he turned on his
cabin light, "I'd like you to take her over for a spell. Somehow I'm
anxious to go over those clippings and make a start at laying out our
plan of campaign. We've got nothing as yet to go by except what those
newspaper boys gathered up so as to spin their fairy yarns--later we're
bound to strike pay dirt on our own account, and can do a little
building with a foundation of real stuff, not speculation and romance
behind it."
That suited Perk to a fraction, for truth to tell he was floundering in
a bog himself, not knowing how they were to get down to "hard pan" and
be able to lay out their course with some show of reason. He had become
quite adept at the old dodge of "leave it to George" and filled with
confidence in his chum's ability to handle any sort of situation, he
believed he displayed more or less wisdom in not attempting to wrestle
with mysteries beyond his limited capacity.
For a long time Jack read on, tore up a number of the slips of newspaper
stuff, laid others aside as if for a second application, made a number
of notes on a little pad he kept handy and seemed so much in earnest
that Perk kept tabs of his actions with glistening eyes. In his mind
Jack already must have "struck oil" and doubtless arrived at some
specious solution of the riddle that had the entire country
guessing--what had happened to Buddy Warner, the best liked air-mail
pilot in the whole region west of the Mississippi--where had he
crashed--was he still alive or had he followed the long line of famous
flyers who had "gone west" after attempting to put through some dazzling
exploit that would have brought immortal fame if only it had succeeded?
All this while the plane roared on, slipping through space at the rate
of something close to a hundred and twenty miles an hour for this was an
occasion when speed meant everything. Perk too rejoiced in handling the
throttle of an up-to-date ship that put it all over the ancient type of
plane which he had been wont to employ when going forth so flippantly to
offer battle to those pestering Hun pilots when the war was on in
France.
"Hot ziggetty dog partner! You sure have had a big session with them
news articles an' I notice how you threw a heap o' them overboard like
they didn't 'mount to a row o' beans."
Perk said this when he saw Jack shake his head as though he might be
somewhat puzzled and needed more or less reflection so as to straighten
things out.
"After all, I didn't get even half as much genuine information from the
bunch as I hoped I would," the other told him, though there was no hint
of bitter disappointment in his manner of speaking, only disgust that so
much could be written, founded on such minute real facts. "These
newspaper boys can spin the most gorgeous yarns on a speck of
truth--it's their business to stretch things to the breaking point you
know, partner, and they sure do that. All that I discarded and threw
over the side was just chaff, without a single sound kernel of wheat in
it. When later on, after I've had time to digest things a bit when I go
over what's left, chances are there'll be another sheaf of clippings go
bad and be tossed out. Some of those stories were the bunk, made up in
the reporter's skillful brain out of nothing at all, even if interesting
to the general reader. In these days the story's the main thing editors
demand."
"Yeah! I kinder guessed that way myself," remarked Perk, trying hard to
seem disgusted, "though I own up they did make what you might call
interestin' readin' that might pull the wool over the eyes o' most
folks. An' what did you think was the worst story in the bunch, Jack old
hoss?"
"I don't know if you read it, Perk, for it was in a paper I bought
myself and which you hadn't seen," Jack told him.
"Seems to me I do 'member you fetched one home and I lost track o' it in
all the rush an bustle, Jack. Tear in an' tell a feller what it all was
about, won't you?"
"This was a letter received from a pilot who had formerly worked on the
same shift as Buddy Warner--it went on to broadly hint the boy had some
kind of secret enemy and was deeply concerned--the writer of the letter
couldn't say positively what sort of trouble the missing pilot was up
against, but declared it his belief that Buddy had met with some kind of
foul play--that this other person might be interested in Buddy's
disappearance!"
"Rats! I don't like the way he put that stuff over!" scoffed Perk with
considerable indignation and concern. "Clean as a hound's tooth that was
Buddy Warner and every one who knew him would say the same. I don't
believe the cub had an enemy in the world--I'd call that a nasty makeup
o' a crooked yarn."
"I'm with you there brother," said Jack firmly. "But you can understand
how eager some people are to get into print--they see an opening to
break into some matter that's gripped the public attention and just
yearn to share in the spotlight. We'll have a chance to dig out the
truth for ourselves before a great while, if any sort of luck helps us
to grab the right cards."
Jack thereupon put away the few clippings he had kept and was soon in
charge of the stick while his partner occupied himself with some of the
ordinary duties pertaining to the observer and navigator of a
double-seat air craft when on the wing.