“Who tackled him, Bert?” I asked grimly.
The other pilot shook his head.
“It was pretty dark, Mac,” he stated, “but they were uniforms—American
uniforms.”
“They?” I muttered. “More than one of ’em, eh?”
Bert nodded.
“Three or four; think one beat it as I waded in. Bride went down. One of
them knocked me off balance and to my knees with a shoulder wallop. When
I straightened up they were making a break for it. Then I heard the
patter of a native cop’s feet. Knew what that meant, with what Prop
knew, or thought he knew. And there’s something else—”
He checked himself, lighted a pill. His eyes were narrowed.
“But Bride knows it wasn’t you that tackled him,” I said in a puzzled
tone. “Why didn’t he come through with the truth? Why the mystery?”
Bert snapped out the words.
“He’s waiting to get me, Mac! See the game? That’s why he didn’t take
the Douglas down—”
He checked himself for the second time. I stared at him anxiously. It
might be the heat or it might be something else.
“Get you for what?” I snapped back.
Bert smiled with his lips. His eyes had a hard expression.
“I tagged him,” he said simply. “I started calling him the Jinx.”
There was a little silence. Then I shook my head slowly.
“Maybe you did, Bert,” I stated, “but you’re holding back on me. You
didn’t go down to the Walled City last week just because you knew he was
sore at you. Come clean; cut the funny stuff!”
He spoke in a low voice.
“I tagged him a jinx over in France. It stuck. He had some tough luck
and it stuck. When Prop told me he had been transferred down here I
thought he was crazy. We usually hear, before a guy comes down. I didn’t
go down to scrap with him, Mac. I went down to see for myself. I knew
what it would mean, the two of us here together. I’ve got a thirty-day
leave of absence coming to me. I figured on taking it right away. After
what happened, I couldn’t do that.”
I nodded. The thing was clearing up now. Bert Allen had tagged Bride
over on the other side. And such a tag, in the air game, sticks. On top
of that, Bride had been having tough luck.
“Bert,” I said slowly, “I’m not much on the in between stuff. Don’t
exactly like it. But suppose I have a talk with Bride? Suppose I tell
him how I think you feel? It would—”
“No good!” Bert interrupted. “He’s a good hater. They’ve been riding him
at the different fields. He’s something of a joke. And he figures I’ve
started it. You can see his side of it. Why didn’t he come through? Ten
to one he knows something about that attack in the Walled City. Why
didn’t he bring the Douglas down? He just took one look and went over
the side. Put it up to me. And the C. O. has him riding along with me
this afternoon. Just wanted you to know how things stand, Mac, but don’t
go to him.”
Bert cleared out. I passed up the nap and did some thinking. Then I went
out on the field and looked up the Jinx. He was too new in the Islands
to nap in the middle of the day, I guessed that. And I found him looking
over the Marlin bomber.
I took him over in a corner of the hangar and gave him the whole story.
All wrong? Maybe I was, but it was the best bet, the way I’d thought it
out. He took it all without changing expression. And when I finished he
just smiled.
“Fine!” he stated. “Well, get this, Lieutenant. I was tackled by three
or four soldiers. One of ’em wore Air Service insignia. Got a piece of
it I pulled off before I went down. Maybe Allen didn’t tackle me
himself, but he was there to see how his boys did the job!”