ON THE AIR-LINE TO CHARLESTON
Jimmy was leaping from a taxi that had come whirling almost up to the
spot where their ship was in the act of taking off. Perk in that hasty
look--when truth to tell he had no business to be taking his eyes away
from his course ahead, lest he make a slip that would upset all their
calculations--had seen the printer's ink man heading in leaps toward
their plane--yes, and sure enough he was holding a pad of paper in one
hand, and doubtless a sharpened pencil in the other, a typical
up-to-the-minute knight of the press bent on snatching up his facts on
the run.
Then Perk--still paying strict attention to his special task--gave a
grunt of satisfaction, coupled with derision. To himself he must have
been thinking, if not saying, "that's the time we jest made a slick
get-away by the skin o' aour teeth--yeou're five seconds too late,
Jimmy, boy--try some o' yeour tricks on slower game, not we-uns.
Whoopla! here she goes!"
As they were just then about to leave the ground and start their upward
climb of course it was absolutely out of the question for the one
holding the stick to twist his head around so as to see what their
tormentor was doing; but then he felt certain Jack must be taking in
everything that occurred, and in good time he would be told of each
little incident.
Perk had his instructions, and knew just what he was doing. Accordingly,
when the ship had reached a comfortable ceiling of say half a thousand
feet, he banked, and swung around so as to head toward the southwest.
"Shore thing," Perk was telling himself, in a spirit of pride and
astuteness. "Sense the gent's is aimin' to git a black bear in them
canebrakes o' ole Louisiana, we gotter be headin' thataways at the
start. Hoopla! aint it jest the limit, apullin' the wool over the eyes
o' one o' the darnedest sharpest newspaper boys as ever was?"
It had been arranged that they were to keep on that course for a brief
time, and when sufficient distance had been covered--so that the hum of
their exhaust could no longer be heard at Candler Field--they would
change to another quarter, swing around the distant city, pick up the
light at Stone Mountain, and from that point industriously follow the
beacons that flashed every ten miles or so all the way to Richmond,
Virginia.
Jack soon displaced his assistant pilot at the controls, and Perk was
able to take hold of other special duties, such as were usually left to
his direction.
One of the very first things he carried out was to attach the harness of
the invaluable telephone, that, when connected with their ears allowed
of such exchange of views as they saw fit to indulge in; and Perk was
burning up with eagerness to find out what Jack must have seen after
they made their start.
The big ship was speeding at a merry clip, and before long Stone
Mountain would be reached with the first beacon flashing its welcome
light to beckon them on their well marked course.
"Was that _him_ as I guess--reckoned I done seed, jest as we started to
move, hey, partner?" Perk demanded; and as Jack knew only too well he
would have no peace until he handed over such information as he
possessed, he lost no time in making answer.
"No other, brother--he came in a taxi, and was in such a hurry it's
plain to be seen he'd picked up a clew at the hotel that sent him
whooping things up, and burning the minutes until he got there at
Candler Field. Unfortunately--for Jimmy--he dallied a half minute too
long, trying to get some lead from that night clerk, and so we slipped
one off on him."
"Yeou doant reckon as haow he'd be so brash as to hire a ship, to try
an' sit on aour tail, do yeou, ole hoss?" demanded Perk, who had even
looked back once or twice, as though such a possibility had begun to
bother him.
"Not a Chinaman's chance of such a happening, Wally--we've got a clear
field ahead of us, and I feel pretty certain that's the last we'll see
of our friend Jimmy. Just the same, leave it to him to concoct a
thrilling yarn to feed to his readers to-morrow morning--imagination
will supply the missing facts; and I'd like to set eyes on what he
hatches up."
"Me too, partner," echoed Perk, greedily; "an' if it's possible while we
hang aout araound Charleston I'm meanin' to look up all the Atlanta
papers, and read all the air news they carry."
"Go to it, partner; but that must be Stone Mountain over there on our
larboard quarter; look sharp, and you'll glimpse a flashing light, for
we're about to pick up our first beacon."
"Bully for that, 'cause afterwards it'll be the softest sailin' ever,
with aour course charted aout fur us most all the way."
"I'm holding her down a bit," explained Jack, "because we'd better stick
to the beacons until dawn; after that we can depend on our compass and
chart to carry us the rest of the way to Charleston."
"I get yeou, ole hoss, an' agree with yeou to a hair. No hurry whatever,
yeou done tole me the Chief sez in his cipher letter o'
instructions--slow an' sure, that's agoin' to be aour motto this
campaign," and Jack must have chuckled to hear the impetuous Perk say
that, it was so foreign to his customary way of rushing things.
The line of beacons was now picked up, and Perk could see sometimes as
many as three at the same time--the one they were passing over; that
left behind shortly before; and still a third faint flash at some
distance beyond.
They had climbed to a ceiling of some two thousand feet, which might
still be increased when passing over such outspurs of the Allegheny or
Smoky Range Mountains as would be met on the regular air mail course to
Richmond.
As the air seemed unusually free from any vestige of fog, being very
clear, of course visibility was prime, which fact added to Perk's
happiness, he being unduly fond of such favorable weather conditions.
Such a voluble chap could not keep silent long, when it was so easy to
chat with an accommodating companion; and hence presently Perk found
something else to mention to the working pilot.
"I say, partner," he sang out, "tell me who yeour friend was, the pilot
I seen yeou talkin' with, an' who sure seemed to be 'quainted with
yeou."
"Knew you had that question up your sleeve, buddy," Jack replied, always
ready to satisfy any reasonable amount of curiosity on the part of his
chum, "Yes, he was an old friend of mine, and I expect you've heard me
speak of him more than a few times--one of the most adept pilots
connected with the Curtiss people,--no other than Doug Davis, who back
in twenty-nine won the country's speed race at Cleveland, with a record
of a hundred-and-ninety miles an hour."
"Gee whiz! haow I'd liked to amet up with him!" exclaimed Perk, showing
a trace of keen disappointment in his tone.
"I'd have introduced you, partner, only the conditions wouldn't admit
it." Jack threw out as a bit of apology.
"But, say--what if that speed hound, Jimmy, happened to learn he was
atalkin' with yeou, wouldn't your friend Doug be apt to give us away,
withaout knowin' the reasons why we wanted to keep shady right naow?"
Jack gave him the laugh.
"Not on your life, buddy," he announced, without hesitation; "I managed
to let Doug know what line I was in, and how just at present I'm a New
York millionaire sportsman and aviator, Rodman Warrington by name,
headed toward some shooting-grounds for a whack at big game. He's a lad
you could never catch asleep at the switch; and make up your mind our
secret's as safe with him as anything could be. Jimmy'd have all his
trouble for his pains, if he ever tried to pump Doug Davis, who's as
keen as they make them in our line."
"But, partner, didn't he introduce yeou to another pilot--I reckon I
seen him adoin' that same, an' heow yeou shook hands with the other
guy."
"Yes, but I'd already tipped Doug off, and he strung his friend with the
story we've hatched up about our meaning to try the shooting in those
wonderful canebrakes in Louisiana. And that's all he'll ever tell
connected with my identity, till the cows come home, or water runs
uphill."
"An' who did the other chap happen to be, if it's a fair question, suh?"
continued Perk, who, once he started on an investigating tour, never
would let go until he had extracted every particle of information
available.
"Sorry that I didn't catch his name clearly; but Doug told me he was
connected with the U. S. Air Reserve Corps operations functioning there
at Candler Field," Jack explained.
He certainly stirred up something when he said that.
"Well, well, what dye know 'baout that naow," gushed Perk, apparently
thrilled more or less by what he had just heard. "I've been gettin' wind
o' that ere movement, and meanin' to look it up whenever the chanct
drifted along."
"A most interesting subject, buddy, and one I'd think you'd want to look
into, seeing you're a veteran of flying in the Great War over in France,
and could join without any trouble. From what Doug told me, and what
I've read concerning the game, the organization is growing stronger
every day--made up of men especially fitted to step in and man fighting
planes, should any occasion arise, such as another foreign war. Right in
the southeast district there are something over two-hundred-and-thirty
pilot members, who could be mustered by Uncle Sam in an emergency, just
twenty-two of whom belong in Atlanta, Doug told me."
"Wheel haow fine that'd be fo' a feller o' my makeup," Perk chortled, in
glee. "I done gue--reckons, suh, as haow they may have meetin's, an' all
that sorter thing--how 'baout it, partner?"
"That's one of the necessary things about the Air Reserve Officers
Corps," continued Jack who evidently considered the organization an
especially fine thing for the airminded public to support. "All through
the winter they meet twice a week in classes, to keep up with modern
military and aviation activities; and they get their new up-to-date
flying experience by taking off in one of five army training ships kept
ready in the new reserve hangar at Candler Field--these are an Oil
Curtiss Falcon regular attack plane; a 2-B Douglass dual control basic
training ship, with 450 horsepower engines; and three other primary
training ships. All the equipment connected with the Fourth Corps hangar
is at Atlanta headquarters,--so Doug told me, and he ought to know if
any one does."
"Gee whiz! an' to think o' what I been missin' all this time," moaned
poor Perk, disconsolately. "Mebbe though it wouldn't ever do to apply
fo' admission to such a organization, 'jest 'cause we-uns gotter to hid
aour light under a bushel, while serving aour Uncle Sam in his ole
Secret Service. Dye know I got half a mind to throw it all up, an' go
back to carryin' the air mail, when a guy could show his own face, an'
not live under a dark cloud;--but not so long as _yeou_ sticks on the
job, partner, I doant break away ever."