HEADED FOR TROUBLE
An hour later the two adventurers arrived at the San Diego aviation
grounds, having taken a taxi to carry them and their limited luggage.
The night was a fine one, so far as the star-studded heavens could be
taken as an indication. If there was fog gathering some hundreds of
miles distant along the route of the air mail course, no indication of
such worry to the pilot's peace of mind had reached this coastal
station.
"Goin' to have a right decent start, looks like," Perk mentioned, after
they had dismissed the taxi close to the isolated hangar just outside
the aviation field limits.
"I expected we'd have it clear as a bell," Jack told him, as he unlocked
the doors of the hangar; "just as well that we don't have our troubles
strike us before we even hit our pace--time enough for all that when we
get well on our way."
As Jack had anticipated there was light aplenty for their purpose; ships
were coming and going at this early time in the evening, so that the
field lights were all on, making it easy to see.
Secrecy was such a part of their business that they did not even have
hostlers present to help push their bus out to the runway--it would not
be the first occasion when these two energetic fellows had managed all
such things by themselves.
They did not loiter, now that the final take-off was at hand; Jack was a
little afraid lest some mechanic, or pilot, hearing them working, and
being more or less curious concerning the pair who owned the trim
aircraft in which they had been taking trips for weeks past, (and about
whom a halo of mystery hovered) might come nosing around, offering to
lend a hand, but really hoping to pick up a few words that would explain
their leaving under cover of night--honest to goodness sportsmen, going
off for a hunt, or a fishing jaunt to the mountains, would not be apt to
time their departure while the world was smothered in darkness.
They were now poised on the short runway, and ready to start off. Perk
had followed his mate aboard, and was already busying himself with
certain preliminary duties that always fell to his charge.
"Ready, all?" called out Jack.
"Give her the gun, partner!" replied Perk.
There was a sudden roar as the engine took the spark, a quiver of the
entire craft, and then a quick jerk as Jack moved the throttle toward
his chest. Down the slight slope they started, gathering more headway
with every second until the ship was bumping rapidly over the ground,
her skid already beginning to scorn the soil as if eager to take to the
air.
Then her nose being pointed upwards she began to rise like a bird,
passing well over the trees that stood at the end of the course.
They were off on their momentous and perilous mission; only Fate knew
what the result would prove to be; whether success awaited them, or
failure, perhaps even death; for they were bound on an errand to a
country where the majesty of the Law was scorned, where might meant
right, and men did not place much value on a human life, more or less.
To see how joyous Perk seemed to be no one would imagine he gave much
heed to the prospect of thrilling episodes that would threaten them as
soon as they entered the danger zone. But then that was the way with
Perk, who loved adventure and close calls, and was never happier than
when defying the power of lawless men, badly wanted by those higher-ups
in charge of the famous Secret Service.
The lighted aviation field was quickly left far behind, as Jack headed
into the northeast, with the intention of holding to the beacon-lighted
trail of the air mail up to a certain point; when they must abandon
those welcome markers that flashed their intelligence every ten seconds,
and were so useful for keeping the mail carriers on their proper course.
Like most up-to-date pilots Jack and his mate had supplied themselves
with the handy ear-phones, by adjusting which to their heads they could
communicate in a satisfactory fashion when it became necessary. But for
this wise preparedness they would have had to shout at the top of their
lungs in order to pass a few words back and forth--a most unsatisfactory
way of doing, as every pilot has found out in times gone by, when there
was no other method known.
For a full hour they kept on their way persistently following the air
mail route. It was exceedingly refreshing to be able to note as many as
three flashing beacons at the same time, from the four thousand foot
ceiling at which Jack was flying, the further one rather dim, it is
true; but strong enough to catch the watchful eye of the pilot.
Perk had kept "bottled up" as long as he could stand it, and now broke
out as if eager to ask some sort of question that was on his mind. Under
such conditions it was his usual way to gradually approach the matter by
jerks.
"Huh! pretty soft I'd call it, partner, if yeou troubled to ask me," he
observed as an opener.
"As what?" demanded Jack, tersely.
"The job o' bein' an air mail runner--everything fixed for 'em so's they
kin keep on the right track--who'd lose his way with them friendly
flash-light beacons apoppin' up ev'ry ten miles'r so, I want to know?"
"You're away off your reckoning when you say that, Perk; remember how
they've got to meet up with tough storms; and pea soup fogs you could
cut with a knife, they're so thick. And in parts of their run the
country is treacherous, with slants of wind breaking out of deep
canyons; then, too, if anything goes wrong aboard their boat to make a
safe landing on such rocky ground is full of all kinds of difficulties.
No, the air mail pilot doesn't have such a sweet time of it as you seem
to think--a night like this he can consider a peach; only there are not
many built that way. You know they lots of times insist on starting out
when a wheen of pilots would stay safe on the ground, and not take
desperate chances."
"Partner, yeou'll have to excuse haste an' a bad pen, as the pig said
after breaking out, and skippin' off on a full run. That time I shore
didn't count ten 'fore I broke loose. Guess naow all pilots git up agin
hard fixes onct in a while, where the finest flash beacons in the hull
world caint help 'em any. I kin understand haow it aint possible to lamp
them lights atall through a thick fog--on'y by the altitude marker kin
yeou tell if youre aflying sky high, or near scraping the ground. But
did yeou happen to hear a ship takin' off jest after we slid aout,
boss?"
"Yes, but that didn't give me any concern, Perk. No danger of it's being
any spy interested in following _us_."
"But jest the same, Jack, she's been keepin' on aour tail right along,"
protested the watchful one, as if he might have been worried a bit.
"Why not, when like as not the pilot is carrying the U. S. mail, and on
his reg'lar night run north. We happen to be making use of his lights,
that's all; and he's attending to his usual business. When we sheer off
to the east soon now, leaving these flashlights behind, _then_ if you
discover a ship following after us it'll be time to do something, not
before."
"Thanks, partner; jest thought I had orter tell yeou, that's all," and
with that Perk lapsed into silence again, having worked his mind clear
once more.
Further time passed.
They had covered some hundreds of miles since leaving San Diego, and
Jack, watching his map understood the time was close at hand for him to
alter his course, and turn sharply toward the east, while the lighted
mail line of travel continued northward.
Ten minutes afterwards and Perk again broke out.
"I kin see the fust wisps o' that ere fog yeou was a tellin' 'baout,
boss," he announced grimly, as though appreciating the flashing beacons
more than before, now that they were about at the end of their string,
with the whole world of mountainous ground facing them, so full of
hidden snares and pitfalls, not to mention human tigers with a fierce
vendetta against all those busybodies of their particular breed.
"That's interesting news, but not so delightful, Perk, since I'm just
going to switch, and head into the east."