THE MAN OF MANY FACES
A man had come out of the odd-looking shack constructed from the coquina
rock found in different parts of Florida, and formed by insects, science
has decided. Neither Jack nor his companion had ever set eyes on him
before, he was an entirely different personage from the short party and
the longer-limbed man they had so lately been watching before the
reckless pilot of the Lockheed-Vega plane departed toward the east.
This individual was also tall and was dressed in well-worn outing
garments that gave him the appearance of a man of leisure taking a day
off.
"Think that's this here Kearns, partner?" whispered Perk, eagerly.
"Just who it must be, Perk," came the cautious reply. "Be careful about
making any sort of little move that might catch his attention, and keep
your eyes fastened on him. Whatever under the sun is he doing, I
wonder?"
"Looks to me he's got some sorter bird there--I c'n see red
feathers--yep, that's what it is for a fact, Jack!"
"Working over a bird with red feathers," said Jack, as if to himself, so
low was his voice. "Now, that makes me remember something I was told
only a short time back--something connected with that wonderful place he
owns over on the East Coast--about birds too--stuffed birds, in fact!"
"Do you mean he's got a collection there, Jack?" breathed the intently
watching assistant in his companion's ear.
"Just that," came the ready reply, "a mighty fine collection too, from
all accounts, of native Florida birds and filling a number of glass
cases. We already know this party is a man of contradictory habits,
being one thing among society people and just the opposite when he gets
in a different atmosphere. Chances are he's a pretty fine amateur
taxidermist--those birds have all been secured by himself and mounted in
the bargain--that when he drops out of sight around Miami it's to come
over here to do some hunting in the swamps and the Everglades, eager to
run across some rare bird that he needs to make his collection
complete."
"Now wouldn't that jar you?" he gasped, vastly astonished at hearing
Jack air his conviction.
"I'm not much of an authority on rare birds," Jack admitted softly as he
continued to use his eyes to advantage, "but I've got a hunch that skin
he's handling right now might be a roseate spoonbill--I'm sure it isn't
a red ibis, for the bill seems different."
"Whee! sounds queer to me, I must say Jack--such a man, such a man--to
play so many different parts! Say, d'ye know I kinder guess he ain't
such a tough guy under all the varnish--must have a heap o' human natur'
under it all to fall for such a decent game as taxidecentry or whatever
you call this pluggin' dead birds an' makin' 'em sit up on boughs like
they might be all to the good!"
"Put it mostly on that war experience he went through, Perk--they say
once a man was gassed pretty badly over there, he'd always prove to be a
queer fish--changeable, nervous and apt to do all manner of strange
things."
"But see here, partner," whispered Perk, uneasily, "that ain't a'goin to
make any perticular difference with our billet, is it--jest 'cause he's
got this funny streak runnin' through his doin's we don't reckon to
throw up our hands an' call it all off, do we?"
Jack chuckled.
"Not any, buddy--we only know that Uncle Sam wants his activities cut
short--it may be exciting sport for him to ferry Chinks across from Cuba
or Honduras, land big cargoes of booze on our shores with his thumb to
his nose insofar as the Government is concerned, and such capers as
that, but it means heaps of trouble for the revenue boys as well as
holding our laws up to contempt. He must be brought to book, and his
game stopped without any more delay than is necessary, no matter how
many other innocent recreations he's engaged in."
"Hot ziggetty! that gives me a warm feelin' again, partner an' I guess
we're the boys to knock the underpinnin' loose so's to make him drop
with a splash." Saying which, Perk relapsed into utter silence.
For some further time they stuck it out, watching every little movement
of the remarkable character proceeding with his labor, not a hundred
feet distant. Jack himself began to grow a bit nervous, for the sun was
just hovering above the western horizon and twilight does not last any
length of time in the South. If they delayed much longer it would mean a
walk in the dark over that dangerous dimly marked trail.
They could have no further doubt concerning the nature of the work that
was giving the suspected man so much genuine pleasure, he had held up
the object of his labor several times so they could plainly identify it
as a birdskin with the most lovely rosy-tinted feathery plumage, long
legs and a spoon-shaped bill.
Then greatly to the relief of the uneasy Perk, the short man came out of
the shack and said something that caused the other to accompany him
back, thus clearing the field.
"Now let's skip out," Jack said softly.
Accordingly both watchers commenced sliding and creeping for all the
world copying the movements of a cat ambushing a feeding sparrow in the
back yard of a suburban place. Although so anxious to get started on
their way back to where they had left their camouflaged ship, neither
Jack nor his comrade would take chances in trying to make haste; they
had long ago learned the folly of one false move when engaged in their
accustomed job of spying upon a suspected law-breaker whom they had
tracked down after an arduous chase.
When finally they reached a point where it was safe to pick up a little
speed, Jack hastened to do so. For a wonder Perk was not saying a
word--the truth was he had his mind so filled with bewilderment in
connection with the queer happenings of the last hour that he could not
think of any further questions to ask his chum.
Then, too, Perk kept on the alert for any peril that might by chance lie
in wait along the trail--there were other dangers besides that solitary
rattlesnake that might suddenly crop up to give them a chill--how about
those nasty looking water moccasins that swarmed in the oozy
swamp?--what of the ferocious bobcats such as were said to crouch on the
lower limb of some tree close beside a woods trail, waiting to drop down
on any moving object that came along?--yes, and other things just as
creepy that his excited mind could readily conjure up?
They were, as Perk judged, about halfway to the spot where they had seen
Mr. Rattler earlier in the day and the dusk was certainly beginning to
make all objects look more or less dim, when Jack suddenly stopped,
giving Perk quite a shock.
"Listen!" Jack was saying huskily.
A far-away and faint buzzing sound came to Perk's ears but instead of
adding to his excitement it really seemed to cool his blood, for surely
this had nothing whatever to do with snakes of any kind.
"Huh! must be a crate partner!" bubbled the relieved Perk.
"No question about that, Perk, and growing clearer right along, showing
it's heading this way."
"Mebbe the Lockheed-Vega comin' back again?" ventured Perk.
"Hardly likely," he was told instantly, "For one thing you'll notice
this motor racket swings up to us from the southwest, while the other
ship struck off toward the east."
"That's straight goods," Perk hastened to admit. "Funny I didn't get on
to that right away. Means our gent has a raft o' ships comin' an' goin'
when he takes a notion to drop over here once in a while."
"Well, we can't stop to listen any longer," said Jack again starting off
with the other trailing close at his heels.
The buzzing grew rapidly in volume, proving that no matter where the
advancing plane came from, its destination must be that secluded little
cove close to the coquina shack sheltering the man of many faces, who
went from fields of excitement to those connected with society
functions, entertaining guests in royal style or following his favorite
pursuit along the enchanting line of adding to his prized collection of
Florida birds. Presently Perk heard a splash and knew the amphibian must
have reached its goal.