Trackers of the Fog Pack; Or, Jack Ralston Flying Blind

by Ambrose Newcomb

  CHAPTER IX

  HEADED FOR TROUBLE

  An hour later the two adventurers arrived at the San Diego aviationgrounds, 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 betaken as an indication. If there was fog gathering some hundreds ofmiles distant along the route of the air mail course, no indication ofsuch worry to the pilot's peace of mind had reached this coastalstation.

  "Goin' to have a right decent start, looks like," Perk mentioned, afterthey had dismissed the taxi close to the isolated hangar just outsidethe aviation field limits.

  "I expected we'd have it clear as a bell," Jack told him, as he unlockedthe doors of the hangar; "just as well that we don't have our troublesstrike us before we even hit our pace--time enough for all that when weget well on our way."

  As Jack had anticipated there was light aplenty for their purpose; shipswere coming and going at this early time in the evening, so that thefield lights were all on, making it easy to see.

  Secrecy was such a part of their business that they did not even havehostlers present to help push their bus out to the runway--it would notbe the first occasion when these two energetic fellows had managed allsuch things by themselves.

  They did not loiter, now that the final take-off was at hand; Jack was alittle afraid lest some mechanic, or pilot, hearing them working, andbeing more or less curious concerning the pair who owned the trimaircraft in which they had been taking trips for weeks past, (and aboutwhom a halo of mystery hovered) might come nosing around, offering tolend a hand, but really hoping to pick up a few words that would explaintheir leaving under cover of night--honest to goodness sportsmen, goingoff for a hunt, or a fishing jaunt to the mountains, would not be apt totime their departure while the world was smothered in darkness.

  They were now poised on the short runway, and ready to start off. Perkhad followed his mate aboard, and was already busying himself withcertain 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 theentire craft, and then a quick jerk as Jack moved the throttle towardhis chest. Down the slight slope they started, gathering more headwaywith 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 theair.

  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 knewwhat the result would prove to be; whether success awaited them, orfailure, perhaps even death; for they were bound on an errand to acountry where the majesty of the Law was scorned, where might meantright, 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 muchheed to the prospect of thrilling episodes that would threaten them assoon as they entered the danger zone. But then that was the way withPerk, who loved adventure and close calls, and was never happier thanwhen defying the power of lawless men, badly wanted by those higher-upsin charge of the famous Secret Service.

  The lighted aviation field was quickly left far behind, as Jack headedinto the northeast, with the intention of holding to the beacon-lightedtrail of the air mail up to a certain point; when they must abandonthose 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 themselveswith the handy ear-phones, by adjusting which to their heads they couldcommunicate in a satisfactory fashion when it became necessary. But forthis wise preparedness they would have had to shout at the top of theirlungs in order to pass a few words back and forth--a most unsatisfactoryway of doing, as every pilot has found out in times gone by, when therewas no other method known.

  For a full hour they kept on their way persistently following the airmail route. It was exceedingly refreshing to be able to note as many asthree flashing beacons at the same time, from the four thousand footceiling at which Jack was flying, the further one rather dim, it istrue; 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 brokeout as if eager to ask some sort of question that was on his mind. Undersuch conditions it was his usual way to gradually approach the matter byjerks.

  "Huh! pretty soft I'd call it, partner, if yeou troubled to ask me," heobserved as an opener.

  "As what?" demanded Jack, tersely.

  "The job o' bein' an air mail runner--everything fixed for 'em so's theykin keep on the right track--who'd lose his way with them friendlyflash-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 howthey've got to meet up with tough storms; and pea soup fogs you couldcut with a knife, they're so thick. And in parts of their run thecountry is treacherous, with slants of wind breaking out of deepcanyons; then, too, if anything goes wrong aboard their boat to make asafe 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 seemto think--a night like this he can consider a peach; only there are notmany built that way. You know they lots of times insist on starting outwhen a wheen of pilots would stay safe on the ground, and not takedesperate chances."

  "Partner, yeou'll have to excuse haste an' a bad pen, as the pig saidafter breaking out, and skippin' off on a full run. That time I shoredidn't count ten 'fore I broke loose. Guess naow all pilots git up aginhard fixes onct in a while, where the finest flash beacons in the hullworld caint help 'em any. I kin understand haow it aint possible to lampthem lights atall through a thick fog--on'y by the altitude marker kinyeou tell if youre aflying sky high, or near scraping the ground. Butdid 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 beingany 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 onhis 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 offto the east soon now, leaving these flashlights behind, _then_ if youdiscover a ship following after us it'll be time to do something, notbefore."

  "Thanks, partner; jest thought I had orter tell yeou, that's all," andwith that Perk lapsed into silence again, having worked his mind clearonce more.

  Further time passed.

  They had covered some hundreds of miles since leaving San Diego, andJack, watching his map understood the time was close at hand for him toalter his course, and turn sharply toward the east, while the lightedmail 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 beaconsmore than before, now that they were about at the end of their string,with the whole world of mountainous ground facing them, so full ofhidden snares and pitfalls, not to mention human tigers with a fiercevendetta against all those busybodies of their particular breed.

  "That's interesting news, but not so delightful, Perk, since I'm justgoing to switch, and head into the east."