Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
TRACKERS OF THE FOG PACK
or Jack Ralston Flying Blind
by
AMBROSE NEWCOMB
Author of
The Sky Detectives
Eagles of the Sky
Wings over the Rockies
Sky Pilots' Great Chase
New York
The Goldsmith Publishing Co.
Publishers
Copyright 1931
The Goldsmith Publishing Co.
Made in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
_Chapter_ _Page_
I PERK SIGHS FOR ACTION 7
II HE GETS HIS WISH 15
III ECHOES OF THE PAST 24
IV BY SPECIAL DELIVERY 31
V THE CAT IS OUT OF THE BAG 38
VI LAYING PLANS 45
VII READY FOR ANYTHING 54
VIII THE WINGED MESSENGER 65
IX HEADED FOR TROUBLE 72
X BATTLING WITH THE FOG 79
XI THE MYSTERY AIRSHIP 86
XII WHEN THE DAWN BROKE 96
XIII ALL THANKS TO SIMEON 104
XIV CLOSING THE GAP 111
XV A CLEVER LANDING 118
XVI UP AGAINST A SILVER-TIP 125
XVII PERK SHOWS HIS HAND 134
XVIII THE CIRCLING BUZZARDS 143
XIX TAKING GREAT CHANCES 150
XX ON THE ENCIRCLING CLIFF 157
XXI ALL ON A DIET 164
XXII THE MAN WITH THE COOK'S CAP 173
XXIII PERK CARRIES ON 182
XXIV IN THE TOM SAWYER CAVERN 189
XXV SQUATTERS' RIGHTS 197
XXVI A BACK DOOR TO THE VALLEY 208
XXVII PIKE'S PEAK, OR----BUST! 216
XXVIII INVADING THE TIGERS' LAIR 223
XXIX ALL READY FOR THE GRAND BLOWOUT 230
XXX THE END OF ROBBERS' ROOST----CONCLUSION 234
Trackers of the Fog Pack
CHAPTER I
PERK SIGHS FOR ACTION
San Diego, in sunny Southern California, was looking its prettiest, with
balmy breezes blowing softly; cloudless blue skies overhead; the usual
throngs on the streets, and a general atmosphere of contentment resting
over the entire place.
Already tourist pilgrims were beginning their annual migration from the
cold lands of the north and northeast, seeking the more congenial
climate along the picturesque Coast, where flowers bloomed throughout
every month of the year; and outdoor sports of all descriptions tempted
those inclined that way to participate.
But, just the same, there appeared to be _one_ individual sauntering
along Main Street, in a certain San Diego suburb, who did not seem to
share in the general joyous spirit--this grumbler amidst such perfect
surroundings was really an old friend of the reader, no other than Gabe
Perkiser, familiarly known among his fellows of the flying fields by the
shorter name of "Perk."
At his side stalked his bosom pal, Jack Ralston, in whose company
latterly the said Perk had participated in a number of thrilling flying
stunts, all of which have been narrated in the earlier books of this
series of aviation stories.
Those who have enjoyed a previous recital of their adventures in the
precarious vocation they followed, as policemen of the skies, need no
further introduction to the pair of cronies. For the benefit of new
readers, less fortunate, it may be said right here, before embarking on
the latest and most thrilling of their recent exploits, that Jack and
Perk were trusted members of Uncle Sam's wide-flung Secret Service
organization; and on account of their clever and conscientious work,
often entrusted with some of the most dangerous and difficult missions
engaging the attention of the high "muck-a-muck" (Perk's definition)
authorities at Washington Headquarters.
"What puts you in the dumps so, Perk?" Jack was asking, after noticing
for the tenth time what a frown had settled on his chum's usually
smiling phiz. "Dinner knocking harder than customary; or did you get a
letter from your best girl, breaking off the engagement? Strikes me
you're fast becoming a chronic crêpe-hanger these days."
"That's all hot air--boloney I'd call it, as yeou know right well,
Jack!" Perk flung back. "Chow was all to the good--ain't got nary a best
gal, an' never did have, neither--they're all rank pizen to me. Guess
again, Mister."
"Then what _does_ ail you, boy--something gone wrong with your
plans--can I do anything to ease the strain? I'd go a long way to get
you out of that black look, partner; you're worrying me a heap I allow."
The other stopped short on Main Street's pavement, and looked his
companion straight in the face, actually smiling a bit in the bargain.
"Yeou _would_ do jest that, ole pal, wouldn't yeou? I know I'm a tarnel
fool to get stewed like this," he burst out; "an' orter be ashamed--I'm
meanin' to kick outen it right away. Fact is, it's the same ole story,
Jack--I'm gettin' fed up by things goin' too smooth. Guess it's in the
blood--my Yankee ancestors they was all men o' action, doers o' things
that called fur courage an' double risk. They set their seal on me,
seems like; fur ever since I was a kid I've been on the hunt fur
adventure by land an' sea; yeah, an' o' late years, in the air besides.
That's all I gotter say; but blood'll tell ev'ry time."
"Well," remarked Jack, looking much relieved it could be seen. "I more
than half suspected this, Perk; but cheer up--the longest lane must have
its turning. Meanwhile we're getting our regular pay from our Uncle
Samuel, remember!"
"But not earnin' a red cent, jest the same, which is what upsets me
most," continued the complaining one. "Makes me feel like I'm sorter
pensioned off, an' ain't worth the snap o' my fingers to the Service.
Huh!"
"Nonsense, boy, that's a silly way of looking at things. We're just
resting up after that difficult job we pulled off, with the help of the
Mounted Police, far away up in Northwest Canada.[1] That successful
flight, and arrest, earned us a vacation, our superiors believe; which I
for one have enjoyed immensely. Now I'm feeling fine, and fit for the
next commission the Big Boss decides to hand out to us."
"Hot-diggetty-dig! then I sure hopes it drifts this way right quick,"
Perk eagerly observed. "I kinder guess them racketeers an' their crowd
o' bootleggers must a got things mighty near sewed up, when the
Department lets us loaf away our time out here on the Gold Coast. If it
keeps on we'll be apt to forget heow to handle a ship, an' get air
shy--neow _wouldn't_ that same be a tough joke on us poor guys?"
"Little danger of such a thing coming to pass, Perk--it's a whole bit
like swimming--once you learn how to keep afloat it's good for a
life-time."
"Mebbe so, Jack--I got a hunch it's the same way with ridin' a bike used
to be--first few days yeou felt stiff in all yeour joints, ev'rything
out o' kelter; but when a chump got used to guidin' the skittish wheel
along it came as easy as fallin' off a log. Honest Injun, neow, Jack,
ain't yeou any idea when we're apt to grab an order to get goin' again?"
"Any old day I'm looking for the same, Perk."
"Gosh! that don't strike me as givin' much encouragement, partner," Perk
told his mate, aggrievedly.
"I wrote in ten days ago," Jack went on to say, quietly, "to say our
ship was in first-class condition, while we were on deck, waiting for
orders."
"Bully for yeou!" snapped Perk, brightening up visibly, as though, like
a war horse at the scent of burnt powder making his nostrils quiver with
anticipation. "I'm right neow yearnin' to set eyes on a different
landscape than sleepy ol' San Diego, an' slow towns borderin' on the
same."
Perk only stated a truth when he referred to his adventurous life. He
was considerably older than his running mate, having been over in France
when only eighteen years of age, handling a sausage balloon on the
fighting line, and running into numerous close corners, having been shot
down at least twice.
After the war was over he came home, and started learning the ropes of
the new craze--flying; becoming a very good pilot in time, though a bit
reckless, it must be admitted.
Then he drifted into the lumber camps, and played logger for a few
seasons. After that Perk, who was proud of having a strain of Canadian
blood along with his Yankee heritage, turned up among the Mounties in
the Far Northwest regions and spent some years doing service with those
dashing officers enforcing the Law of the wilderness.
Meeting up with Jack Ralston--after being coaxed to throw his fortunes
in with the Secret Service at Washington, he took a strong liking for
the bright-witted youngster, and they had been boon comrades ever since,
sharing their blankets, meeting all manner of peril in company, and
becoming what might be called real "blood brothers."
So, too, had Jack been through some interesting experiences, although
not of the same thrilling character as those Perk could look back to,
when musing of the past.
He had had a run of circus training, being a natural athlete; and on the
bills had been advertised as a famous trapeze performer. Then naturally
the lure of the air gripped Jack, and forsaking the sawdust ring he
began making parachute drops with one of those barnstorming aviators
possessing a dilapidated crate with which he was wont to give
exhibitions at Harvest Home festivals, and County Fairs all over the
West--just as Lindbergh did in his school days.
It was in this fashion that young Ralston learned to be a clever pilot;
and possibly his skill at the controls was one leading factor bringing
about an earnest invitation for him to join up with the Secret
Service--about that time it became evident that a new branch of the Law
organization must be built up, in order to compete with the lawless
smuggling gangs that were already using airplanes with which to fetch
contraband of every description into the country.
So well did the pair co-operate that they worked as two parts of the
whole machine--as one hand knows what the other hand requires to make a
finished product so their brains often worked in unison, thus adding
additional strength to their united efforts.
As they continued their walk, meaning to return to the city in time for
lunch, Perk continued to ramble on with observations covering much
ground; for he had a decided opinion on every variety of subject, and
could be depended on to exploit his ideas at the slightest invitation.
"No use talkin,' Jack," he was saying, as he tapped his pocket
significantly, "that same Jerry Slocum's a crackin' good locksmith an'
gunsmith. I took up with his offer, yeou know, to put my ol'
six-shooter, used in France with my work in the sausage balloon corps,
in apple-pie condition; an' he done a smart job. He happened to have
some ammunition to fit the gun, so I laid in a bunch o' cartridges,
meanin' to shoot at a target when time hung heavy on my hands. But
listen, will yeou, ol' pard, what's all that whoopin' mean 'round the
corner jest ahead--sounds like a reg'lar _stampede_ was takin' place,
I'd say if yeou asked me?"
-----
Footnote 1:
See "_Sky Pilots' Great Chase_."