Battling the Clouds; or, For a Comrade's Honor

by Frank Cobb

  CHAPTER III

  Frank Anderson found no time to invent a scheme that would put theSwallow into his hands because two days later on a bright Saturdaymorning, Frank heard a silvery little siren tooting under his window,and looked out to see the Swallow below and Bill in businesslikegoggles.

  "Hey!" called Bill joyfully. "Want to come along and show me Lawton? Dadand mother are coming in for dinner to-night, and we can stay in all dayand see the sights, then meet them and have dinner with them. Dad setsup a dandy dinner, I will say. Hurry up!" He tooted the siren againgaily, and Frank bolted in search of his mother.

  He found her getting ready for a bridge luncheon, and she scarcelylistened when he told her the plan for the day. She managed to say yes,however, when she understood the part Major Sherman was going to play,and drifted out of the room leaving Frank to yell down from the windowthat he was coming and to embark on a more or less thorough toilet. Helooked very smooth and clean, however, ten minutes later, when he hoppedinto the Swallow and settled himself beside Bill.

  Frank pointed out the various places of interest as they went along, andbefore they knew that the miles had been passed, they were entering theoutskirts of the village. It was a typical Western village: low, squat,unpainted sheds of houses, with sandy front yards, and heaps of refuselying about.

  As the boys picked their way along, they turned a corner into a betterpart of the town. Here the houses were better; but on the whole veryshabby. The influence of the oil boom was being felt, however, and hereand there immense and showy residences were being built.

  They then turned into the main street, a very wide, splendidly pavedthoroughfare crowded with automobiles, carriages, mule teams, saddlehorses, and indeed every possible kind of conveyance.

  Frank noted with pride that wherever they went the little Swallowcreated a great commotion. People stopped to stare and exclaim. Bill,who was busy guiding his little beauty among the larger vehicles, didnot seem to notice but it was meat and drink to Frank.

  Down by Southerland's drug store they parked the Swallow, locking itcarefully, and walked off, leaving the Swallow literally swallowed up bya crowd of admiring people. Frank hated to go and when they had wanderedhalf a block away made an excuse for going back. Bill said he would lookat some sweaters in a sporting goods window until he returned.

  Frank found the crowd larger than ever. A policeman had attached himselfto the circle and a couple of old Indians stood looking solemnly down.Someone was talking and when Frank pressed through the crowd he found aboy about his own age leaning on the fender and addressing everybody ingeneral. Frank listened and studied the boy as he did so. He was a slim,pale chap with a shock of light, wavy hair which was shaved close to hishead everywhere except on top where a thick brush waved. He wascontinually smoothing it back or shaking his head to get it out of hiseyes. He seemed to consider it a very fascinating motion. Frank likedhis man-of-the-world air and did not see the grins on the faces of manyof the listeners.

  "Rather nice little machine," said the boy. "I wonder who owns it. Iwould like to tell him a few things he ought to have changed about it.Some of the lines are all wrong, and anyone can see the engine couldn'thold up under any strain. I bet he has trouble with the hills. All thecars of this make have trouble. His tires are wrong too. He ought to usea heavier tire if he expects to get any speed out of it. It ought to goat a pretty good clip if the chap knows how to drive. There iseverything in the driving. I have taken my eight-cylinder at one hundredand ten miles easily a good many times, but my dad and the chauffeursnever get over eighty-five out of it."

  Frank felt his head swim. Here was talk that _was_ talk! He completelyforgot Bill, looking at sweaters. He edged up to the car and fumbledunder the seat.

  "Hello!" said the boy. "This your car?"

  "It belongs to another fellow and me," said Frank, unable to keephimself from establishing some sort of a claim on the Swallow. "Why?"

  "Quite a nice little toy," said the boy, nodding condescendingly. "Inever cared much for toys myself but some chaps like 'em. I have aneight-cylinder machine and a six-cylinder runabout, and that's enough tokeep me going for the present. I want a racing car built for me prettysoon."

  "You don't live here, do you?" asked Frank, sure he would have heardsomehow of this remarkable youth who talked so glibly of owning a stringof cars.

  "I should hope not!" said the boy scornfully. "Not in this dead littlehole! I guess you don't know me. I am Jardin, Horace Jardin. My fatheris the automobile man."

  "I have heard of him," said Frank.

  "I guess you have!" chuckled young Jardin. "You couldn't go anywhere onthe globe without seeing the Jardin cars. Dad puts out more cars thanany other two concerns on earth." He assumed a very bored look. "Gee,sometimes I wish I could change my name! Makes a fellow so conspicuous,you know."

  "Well, _I_ didn't know who you were until you told me," said Frank,grinning.

  Jardin flushed. Evidently he could not take a joke that was levelled athimself.

  "No, I suppose there are a few rube places like this where the peoplehave never heard of the Jardin car."

  Frank hastened to smooth things over. He had no desire to quarrel withthis young prince who talked so easily. Frank had to admit that a gooddeal of it sounded like ordinary boasting, but he assured himself thatit must all be true, and proceeded to make things square again.

  "You are wrong there," he said. "It would be a good deal smaller placethan Lawton before the people had to be told about the Jardin car. Ofcourse I didn't know that you were Jardin, but I couldn't be blamed forthat."

  "Sure not!" granted the boy. He took a gold cigarette case from hispocket and lighted one, then as an after-thought offered it to Frank whorefused, but with a feeling of disgust that he was unable to take oneand smoke it coolly as young Jardin was doing.

  "The little fool!" a man in the group was saying, but Jardin either didnot hear or care.

  "Where is the other boy who owns the car?" he asked.

  "Down the street," said Frank. "I forgot all about him. We are in townfor the day. His father is an instructor at the School of Fire at Sill,and mine is stationed at the Aviation School."

  "That's what I am crazy over," said Jardin. "If I consent to go toschool and stay all through the winter, I am to have a little planethis fall. I have been taking lessons down at Garden City, and my planeis to be a real long distance one. Dad will give me anything if I willgo to school. Gee, I hate it!"

  Frank swallowed hard. Two automobiles and an airplane! He commenced tofeel sorry for Bill. "Bill and I are going east to school this fall," hesaid. "Where are you going?"

  "I don't know yet," said Jardin. "I have got to talk it over with dad."

  "Let's go find Bill," said Frank. "That is, if you haven't anythingbetter to do."

  They detached themselves from the crowd and walked down to the sportinghouse, where they found Bill just tucking a bulky bundle under his arm.He had bought his sweater and stopped to count his change before heturned to greet the boys.

  "Gee, what an old woman's trick," said Frank, who wanted to let Jardinknow that _he_ was not afraid to spend.

  "You mean to count the change?" Bill inquired.

  "Yes," said Frank.

  "You are right," Jardin cut in. "I never have time. _My_ time is morevaluable than a few cents the fellow may swipe from me."

  "Suppose it is the other way around," said Bill. "Suppose the fellow hasmade the mistake. When the checks are made up, his shows the loss and hehas to make it up. Not much fun for him. Perhaps he has a family and hecan't afford it. I never used to bother either, but once I was takingdinner in New York with a friend of mother's who has oodles of money,and when he came to pay the check he looked every item over and countedthe change and it was thirty cents overcharged. I suppose I lookedfunny, because he said to me when the waiter went off to get itstraightened out, 'Bill, it is no special credit to let these fellows doyou. If you want to give money away, there are plenty of beggars on
thestreets, or you can buy millions of shoe laces and pencils. But neverlet anybody think they can put it over you.'

  "And then to show the other side, that is, when the other fellow makesan honest mistake, he told me a story that made me remember. Then thewaiter brought the right change, got a tip, and we left. But I alwayscount change now."

  "I'd like to see anybody do that in the Biltway Hotel!" laughed Jardin.

  "This was in the Biltway Cascades," said Bill.

  "Come down here," said Frank. "Here is where the Indians come most."Young Jardin and his father had only reached town late the night beforeso he was as ready as Bill to see the sights.

  On a corner by a drug store two very old Indians stood gesturing at eachother. The boys stopped a little way off and watched them. Theirwrinkled old mouths were tight closed but their hands flew in short,quick motions that were perfectly impossible for the boys tounderstand. It was evident, however, that the two old men understoodeach other with perfect ease because at intervals they would laugh asthough at an excellent joke.

  "That beats all!" exclaimed Jardin, actually interested for once. "Boththose old fellows are deaf and dumb."

  "Wait," said Frank.

  The gestures went on, and presently another old Indian approached. Hewas even older than the other two. His face was a network of wrinklesand his braided hair hung in two thin, scant little tails scarcelyreaching his shoulders. It was gayly wound, however, and his cheeks werecarefully painted. The two other old men seized him by the arms and tothe amazement of Bill and Horace both commenced to talk at once.

  "Now what on earth did they do that for?" demanded Bill of no one inparticular. "If they can talk, why did they go through all that crazymotion business?"

  "I don't know," said Frank. "They do it all the time. Only the old ones,though."

  "I bet Lee will know," said Bill. "We will ask him."

  "Who is Lee?" asked Horace

  "My dad's orderly," said Bill. "He will drive father and mother into-night when they come. Who are all these boys in blue suits? Look likebell boys."

  "They are from the Indian school we passed on the way out," explainedFrank.

  "Lee knows a lot of the boys in that school," said Bill. "He is going togo over with me some day."

  "How does he happen to know them?" asked Jardin.

  "He is part Indian himself," explained Frank.

  "A half-breed?" said Jardin. "They are awfully treacherous. Don't youfeel afraid to have him around?"

  Bill laughed. "I should say not! Why, Lee is the finest and best fellowI ever knew! He wouldn't lie to save his life. Dad says he can trust himwith anything anywhere. Afraid? Well, you just don't know what you aretalking about! Frank has got that afraid bee in his bonnet. It makes mesort of tired because I know what Lee is, and I am going to be for himevery time and all the time."

  "You always act as though it was a personal slam if anyone says theleast thing about Lee," complained Frank.

  "That's the surest thing you know!" said Bill fervently. "I _do_ take itas a personal slam always if anyone says things against a friend. And afriend Lee certainly is. I think he is as true and clean as any man Iknow, and he is--well, he is a dandy! Anybody who says he is differentwill have to prove it!"

  A spirit of malicious meanness rose in Frank. He assumed an air of goodnature.

  "All right," he said. "It is really not worth talking about, but someday I may be able to make you see things differently."

  "I will believe you when you can prove it," retorted Bill.

  "Aw, let's drop it," said Jardin, taking each boy by an arm and turninginto a doorway. "Let's look in this pawnshop. Did you ever see anythinglike that white buckskin Indian suit?"

  "The Sioux Indians work those, little gentlemen," said the owner of thepawnshop, seeing them pause before the soft, snowy leather garment."They are the only Indians who can cure the hides and tan them likethat, and the squaws do the bead work."

  "I have a notion to buy that for my sister," said Jardin, feeling of thedelicate fringes. "She could wear it to a fancy dress ball. I supposethis feather headdress goes with it."

  "It is worn with it," said the man. "I will let you have them cheap.Dress and headdress for fifty dollars."

  "All right," said Jardin as coolly as though the man had said fiftycents. "Send them over to the hotel C. O. D. May will have a fit overthose."

  "I reckon you are sort of all right to get a present like that for yoursister," said Frank, as they strolled out. "You must like her a wholelot."

  "I don't," said Jardin. "I just have to keep squaring her all the time.She is an awful tattler, and if I don't keep her squared, she peacheson me. Sisters are an awful nuisance!"

  "You are right," said Frank. He had never thought so before but if thiswonderful young man thought so, why, it must be true.

  Bill said nothing.

  Jardin glanced at his wrist watch.

  "Lunch time," he announced. "Come on back to the hotel and havesomething to eat with me."

  "That suits me," said Frank.

  "Sorry, but I can't accept," from Bill. "I have a couple of errands toattend to for mother and I have been fooling around so long that I willhave to be pretty spry. You all go on, and I will get a bite later."

  "Well, of course I will stay with you if you think you can't put yourerrands off for an hour or so," said Frank sulkily.

  "I have put it off too long anyhow," said Bill, "but I certainly won'tmind if you go."

  "No, I will go with you," decided Frank.

  "All right then," said Jardin, shrugging his shoulders. "Suit yourself,of course! Perhaps we will meet later." He turned and started backtoward the hotel, leaving the boys looking after him.