The Sky Detectives; Or, How Jack Ralston Got His Man
“Well, it’s goodbye to Candler Field for us right now,” remarked Perk, as he shot a general look around, being more or less interested in the exciting events being pulled off in the air circus. “Playtime’s past, and now we’ve just got to put in our best licks along the line of business. Huh! seems like them two guys are meaning to pull out right on our heels, from the lively way that greasy lad is jumping around – keeps an eye on us in the bargain, as if it mattered a lick whether we did get going before he was ready to follow suit. Some folks never do like anybody to show ’em their dust, even when it don’t matter a pinch.”
Just then Jack waved his hand toward the two hostlers whom he had generously tipped, and pulled the gun in his accustomed careful fashion; after which they started along the level field for the takeoff, there being small necessity for a runway on such a generous fairway.
Faster and faster they flew along the ground, and then with their wheels parting contact with the earth up they started at an easy incline. The roar of the motor already drowned most of the clamor from the surging crowd, while the racket of the whizzing propeller added to the chorus so joyous to the ears of all real air pilots, since nothing pleases them more than to feel they are masters of a ship that is in “apple-pie” condition for battling whatever lies ahead, be it storm, fog or whatnot.
Somehow Perk was twisting his head around as if curious to ascertain whether that Ryan crate had succeeded in imitating their example, and was already making the preliminary dash across the field – which luckily enough had chanced to be fairly clear of maneuvering planes, either descending, taking off, or being taxied into position for the next stunt on the program.
The afternoon was getting well along by this time, and already the first dim shadows of approaching night were to be seen slipping out from certain patches of pine trees ahead. But the higher they climbed, now that a start had been accomplished, the lighter it would become, what with a lower horizon, and the sun still hanging in plain sight.
Once free from any possibility of any contact with the wheeling and ducking planes – some of which were doing the barrel roll, and others making successive somersaults, with the daring pilots proceeding while in an inverted position – Jack could start spiraling, and climbing.
Rapidly was Candler Field fading from view behind them since Jack had swung toward the south, as if to lay his course directly for New Orleans. Perk seemed to find a subtle attraction back where they had just come from, since he was again turning his head with nothing else to do save gratify his innocent curiosity.
“Huh! ’pears like they might be meaning to strike for the Louisiana canebrake country, and black bear diggings, just like I said,” he was telling himself, with a chuckle of amusement over his shrewd guess. “And say, that little Ryan crate’s no slouch ’bout making speed, I’d mention. Come along you sportin’ crowd – plenty of room in the ceiling overhead, an’ nixey a chance to bring about a collision. Take your choice, and cut out for all you’re worth, boys. If you get there before we do, just tell ’em we’re acomin’ too.”
So Perk continued to amuse himself in watching the antics of the rival ship, and indulging in all kinds of wild speculations as to what the real object of those two sporty looking occupants might prove to be.
Evidently thus far not the slightest suspicion had entered his mind that the taking to the air of the shining Ryan boat had the first thing to do with their own skipping out, and heading toward the Crescent City.
“Like as not when it gets real dark after a bit,” Perk continued to say, being addicted to talking to himself more or less, “we’ll soon lose her, and have the field all to ourselves. Only moving thing I c’n sight back there, ’cept them circlin’ buzzards huntin’ for a carrion supper. Guess everything’s going along first class and we’re in for a comfortable night run down over the corn and sugarcane country. This is the life for little Perk, you hear me saying, everybody – it’s got the boxin’ game, and even that outdoor life up with the Mounties in Canada, beat to a frazzle.”
So Perk busied himself with his duties for some time, and presently became aware of the fact that evening was actually at hand; for the sun had dropped out of sight over in the far west, and looking down he found it absolutely impossible to distinguish what lay beneath them some two thousand feet more or less earthward – there might be forests, farms, hills or swales following each other in rapid succession; but all masked by the sable curtains of night. When the moon rose later on, its light would not afford them any opportunity for marking any peculiarities of the ground down there, since it must simply present the appearance of a swiftly moving panorama.
Perk, moved once more by his old curiosity concerning the ship that had started off immediately after their own jump, again twisted his head so as to take another backward look.
“Hanged if she ain’t keeping on our tail right along,” he told himself, as if a bit surprised, though not in the least troubled, since there could be no possible connection between this Ryan monoplane and their own old bus, bent on reeling off so many miles per hour, and aiming to make the airport at New Orleans by early dawn or before, according to how the weather treated them, and the speed Jack could coax from his aerial steed.
Further inspection convinced Perk that the rival ship was neither gaining nor losing as the two sped along their way; a fact that began to make him “sit up and take notice,” and then express himself confidentially:
“By jinks! it looks to me like that clever little Ryan bus could make circles around our tub ’less Jack c’n squeeze a lot more snap from our Whirlwind motor. Now what game c’n that pair of sports be playin’ right now, I want to know – must be they’re so used to bettin’ on anything an’ everything they’re meanin’ to keep right on our tail all night long, just to make us hump along, and get the laugh on us poor guys.”
CHAPTER IV
THE GRIM PURSUER
As the minutes crept along Perk’s uneasiness commenced to make itself more manifest, finally reaching such a condition that he felt it would ease his mind if only he could get the opinion of his companion on the subject.
To do this it would be necessary that they should make use of the head earphones that had been taken along for this particular purpose. Accordingly he quickly adjusted his own, and then proceeded to advise Jack as to what he wished to do. Since these useful adjuncts of the pilot’s outfit were so arranged that they could be slipped on and off with little loss of time, it was an easy matter for Perk to apply them, after which he went on to speak.
“Jack, seems like that pesky little Ryan insect’s been tailing us right along, though mebbe now you didn’t notice it.”
“I know it, Perk – fact is I proved that fact to my own satisfaction, for twice now I’ve changed our course, once into the west, and again heading into the southwest, even if it didn’t catch your attention.”
“You did that same; and say, what happened, Jack?”
“Not a blessed thing,” came the immediate answer.
“They still hung on our tail, do you mean, old hoss?”
“Seems like they did – queer how two pilots, strangers both, would take a notion to change their course, not once but twice running,” commented Jack in his non-committal fashion that always had Perk guessing.
“Strikes me as something more than a happy chance,” asserted Perk, beginning to throw off that comfortable feeling with which he had wrapped himself as he contemplated a steady going night run, with never a reason for anything gripping them by way of excitement; “ev’ry little movement of that Ryan two-seater’s got a meanin’ of its own. Now what ails the ducks I want to know – how c’n our movements have a mite to do with what they’re planning to carry out – got any idea along them lines, old hoss?”
“Nothing definite as yet,” answered Jack; “I was starting to figure it out just when you barged in, and opened this talk fest up with your question.”
“Jack, come to think of it, what did you make out of that stiff yarn Scotty put over on us a while ago?”
“It was raw stuff for a fact; but I don’t question anything he told us, remember, Perk.”
“Whoever his mysterious visitor was he must have been hunting for something, that’s dead sure!” declared Perk.
“Yes.”
“Something he didn’t find, either,” continued Jack’s assistant pilot.
“Scotty was ready to swear to that fact, and he ought to know.” Jack countered by saying:
“But see here, old hoss, you’ve got some sorter idea what the game might abeen, haven’t you for a fact?”
“I reckon I know why the sneak thief failed to carry away the thing he was looking for, if that’s what you mean, Perk.”
“As what, boss – I’m all worked up wantin’ to know.”
“Perhaps the reason might have been because the object of his search happened at that very time to be safe and snug in the inside pocket of this same coat I’m wearing under my overalls.”
At hearing this startling announcement Perk gave a quick look into his pal’s face, there being just enough light remaining in the western sky to allow this searching glance.
“Glory be! now I’m beginning to get somewhere, and ready to quit this gropin’ around, like a man in a London fog – that letter you had this very morning from Headquarters – somehow ’r other some of the gang had wind of your gettin’ it, and they guessed it’d be kept safe under lock and key in your room at the hotel; and then they got balled up about the number on the door, so they broke into the wrong room. Jack, am I on the right track?”
“Seems that’s so, according to my notion, Perk; unless I miss my guess that’s the way things stand.”
A disgusted grunt from Perk told that he did not feel very happy over certain facts in the case.
“Gosh-a-mighty!” he burst out, explosively, “if that’s right, then the tricky crowd know you’n me are on this case – that even right now we’re starting out to pluck their tail feathers, and fetch that master-crook to the bar!”
“Oh! I expected that would happen,” said Jack, indifferently. “Having been told by several of the best men in the service that Slim was the smartest all-round dopester known in all the land, I anticipated that he’d have means for finding out that fact long ago – that there might be a leak around Headquarters; for spies can worm in almost anywhere, given an opportunity, and the backing of a big bunch of jack.”
“Yet that fact don’t seem to rattle you worth a red cent, old hoss,” continued the puzzled Perk, who ofttimes found the actions of his cool partner a mystery he could not solve, because of his own more impetuous ways.
“I hope not,” was all Jack said in reply.
“Thunder and lightning!” ejaculated the co-pilot, as if an illuminating idea had suddenly flashed through his brain – “that Ryan bus, Jack!”
“Well, what of it?” demanded the one at the stick.
“What if that sporty guy I told you about should turn out to be the critter who broke into Scotty’s room, and made it a complete wreck?”
“It could happen that way, Perk; seems like you’re working on a warm scent right now. Pity we didn’t get a good look at the gentleman before he hid his face behind that helmet and goggles; then at least we’d know him if ever we happened to run across his trail.”
The other was almost frothing at the mouth through disgust and anger combined; but he managed to say, with a select few hard words interlarded as a vent to his outraged feelings:
“Give me half a chance and I’ll mark him so there’s be no difficulty in locating the sneak when we meet him again – I’d put a bit of lead through his arm that’d keep him out of the scrap for a week of Sundays; or else clip off one of his ears, to stamp him as a low-down crook.”
Jack knew full well that this was no idle threat on the part of his running mate; for Perk had a reputation as a pistol shot second to none in the entire service, being a natural born marksman.
He lapsed into a spell of silence after making that vicious remark; but from the way he glanced back again and again it looked as though Perk meant to keep close tabs on the craft that was dogging their own ship so steadily.
They were roaring on their way, and it would seem as if they must be showing a clean pair of heels to anything in their rear; but just the same, Perk, with the vision of an air-minded individual, could readily understand how the speedy Ryan plane was slowly but insidiously picking up on them continuously.
“Blamed nuisance,” he was muttering to himself when this important fact became a positive truth; “guess now that rip-snorter could make circles round us, if so be he wanted to. Shucks! what’s left to us I want to know; an’ just what does he ’spect to accomplish with all this chasin’ us? Might as well get out my little old six-shot bear gun, so’s to be ready in case there’s any sort o’ ruction aheadin’ our way.”
The idea seemed to afford him a strange sort of grim satisfaction, for bending down he ran his hand under the coaming of the cockpit; to almost immediately withdraw a very decent looking sporting repeating rifle, evidently his working tool whenever he felt disposed to spend a week in the wilds, either alone, or with some boon companions also yearning for wild game and the much desired campfire.
“Hold tight, Perk,” Jack was saying just then; “going into a nose dive, and see if that will upset his calculations; for he’s got me buffaloed all right as to what’s in the wind!”
Almost immediately they turned the nose of their craft earthward, and went down on a swift slant. Perk kept his head turned even as this maneuvre was being executed, and what he saw was something calculated to almost take his breath away; for where the pursuing Ryan ship loomed up as a shadowy form, vivid splashes, as of fire, were coming in quick succession – he could even imagine he heard the pulsating staccato reports following each other in succession, just as in those never-to-be-forgotten days when he would have a covey of devil-may-care German air fighters stepping on the tail of his old-fashioned boat, and peppering him from their rapid-firing guns!
CHAPTER V
THE DUEL IN THE AIR
The significant flashes abruptly ceased; but Perk realized this was only because the expert pilot handling that same Ryan wasp was also ducking down in an exact copy of their own game.
For the moment Perk lost sight of the shadowy pursuing craft; then Jack changed his tactics, and once again brought his boat on an even keel. Perk strained his eyesight in an endeavor to pick up the other ship after it too had swung into a direct course.
“Devil take that guy at the stick,” he stormed to himself, although Jack caught almost every word, since the earphones were still in operation, “he’s seen our move, an’ gone us one better. No slouch o’ a pilot, either, I’ll admit. When that gent who goes by the name o’ Slippery Slim picks his gang he knows how to pull trumps out of the pack all right. Give him another shoot, Jack, old hoss; mebbe he wont be so lucky next time. He’s got some kind o’ a rapid-fire shooter aboard, and had started to send a hail o’ lead ’bout our ears just as you turned the trick on him.”
Jack was apparently quite willing to give a repeat, for hardly had the other ceased shouting than they again shot down in a dizzy dive that seemed likely to lower their altitude by something like five hundred feet.
Perk was keeping a close watch, and knew that once more the grim pursuer had copied their daring maneuvre.
“He’s a good one, or I’ll eat my hat!” he burst out, as they were “cutting a blue streak” once more through the growing darkness, and he could see those suggestive flashes again punctuating the gloom in their track. “Jack, he’s started that racket again, don’t you know; and any second we may get a slug in our belly, bustin’ things all to flinders. Try a razzle-dazzle on the boob, old broncho!”
So making a bank, Jack changed his course, running at right angles, and if anything at a faster pace than ever. Perk had the situation “sized up to a fraction,” as he himself would have called it; he realized that it was only through the greatest of good luck they had escaped being hit by one of those flying missiles; and that so long as the mysterious enemy kept using their ship for a flying target they were in constant peril. Despite all this ducking and dodging on Jack’s part he did not seem successful in throwing the pursuing craft off the track. To be sure the darkness was gradually growing thicker with every passing minute, and this seemed to be their only hope of crawling out of a “hot hole,” according to Perk’s calculations.
Perk afterwards frankly admitted that he was frothing at the mouth on account of finding himself up against a situation where the cards seemed stacked against him – where his hands were tied as it were, and that reckless pilot, chasing after them hell-bent, held all the trumps.
“No use tryin’ that game any longer, Jack, boy!” he yelled suddenly. “See the glim all ’round us, partner – sure as you live they’ve even got some kind o’ a searchlight aboard, just like they’d planned all this thing out beforehand. Guess now it’s up to Little Perk to put a plug into their game. Hold her steady a bit, boss; I’m meaning to make ’em sit up an’ take notice they can’t hog all the fun going. Watch my smoke, Jack, old hoss.”
It was a delicate situation without any doubt; for if those aboard that little Ryan plane, taking advantage of the halo of light covering the craft they followed, continued to make use of their rapidfire gun, the danger of a hit had vastly increased; but Perk must have some sort of scheme in mind it was evident, or he would never have asked his chum to steady the badly wobbling boat when such action only doubled their peril.
Calmly and deliberately, as though simply bent on fetching down a deer he wanted for his next camp supper, steady old Perk had his faithful gun up to his shoulder, and was sighting that piercing glare of light that marked the bow of the pursuing aircraft, betraying the presence of a searchlight.
Possibly owing to the clamor of their own working motor Jack could not tell when his companion unloosed a fusilade of shots; but he did know that something suddenly changed the situation, and to their advantage; for as though a blanket had been tossed over the piercing ray the illumination abruptly ceased, leaving them to continue their wild flight shrouded in encompassing darkness.
Then, too, the sound of Perk’s exulting yell was quite enough to tell the story of his success in finding a glowing target for one of his several missiles – the old sharpshooter had evidently lost none of his cunning by reason of a lapse in action.
“Set ’em up in the other alley, boys – give your Dutch uncle a chance to show an old trick or two! Now will you be good, or must I give you another smash in the jaw – better haul off while the haulin’s good, fellers – I’d sure hate to make you crack up, and fade out!”
Even though his clever shot had doubtless utterly smashed the searchlight, and put it out of business, that bothersome rapidfire gun was still in working order, as Perk discovered when once more those insistent flashes, following closely upon each others’ heels, announced a fresh barrage, with the unseen, unheard hissing bullets doubtless whizzing all around them.
This was adding insult to injury, Perk was doubtless telling himself, as he realized that his lucky shot had after all failed to daunt that stubborn pair in the speedy Ryan ship.
“You will have it, seems like,” he growled to himself; for since he had discarded his earphone harness just previous to starting his late “shooting spree,” Perk could no longer hold intercourse with his fellow flyer; “all right then, I’ll try some more o’ the same sorter medicine; what’s good for the goose orter be fine for the gander. Mind your eye now, boys, and keep a tight grip on your chutes if anything happens not down in your gamble.”
Again did the continual flash of spitting fire from the gun afford the sharpshooter in the chased ship abundant opportunities for focussing his aim; although instinct may have taken the place of vision on Perk’s part.
Fortunately Jack must have been expecting something along those lines, knowing his companion so well, and how he was always eager to “repeat” when things were coming his way; for he kept the flying boat wonderfully steady just then, even though realizing how such action doubled their own chances of being hit.
Perk was now shooting on general principles, in hopes of being fortunate enough to find a billet for one of his random bullets. He went at the business with all the sang froid of a veteran fighter, accustomed to meeting hostile craft up in the wide air spaces, or even above the clouds – all the fierce delight of matching his skill and life against a foeman worthy of his steel had once more gripped the old flying warrior; and it may be for the moment he deluded himself with the belief that this was but a reincarnation of those never-to-be-forgotten days when all Europe was held fast in the throes of the grisly war-god.
Suddenly Perk ceased firing, nor was this caused by the magazine of his repeating rifle being empty – he had seen that the discharges back yonder were no longer in full blast, showing that something must have happened to cause such a sudden cessation to hostilities.
Before he could attempt to analyze what this might mean it was all flashed before his questioning mind – a burst of flames came from the spot where last he had seen the shadowy shape of their persistent pursuer clipping through space like a blazing meteor.
Perk sat there doubled up, his mouth half open, staring with might and main, as some object began to drop toward the earth with ever increasing speed – something which he knew full well must of necessity be the beautiful little Ryan plane, which he had admired so much when at Candler Field at close of the late day, and before this wild dash into the darkness of night began.
Evidently one of his missiles (fired with such grim determination when he “took the bit in his teeth,” and struck back) had found its mark, and unleashed the dangerous contents of the gasoline reservoir, with the splashing fluid instantly catching fire from the exploding spark of the running motor.
No flyer ever saw his enemy going down in a flaming coffin without feeling compassion gripping him; that one moment had changed his heart from bitter hatred to a sense of pity; knowing as he must have done that the day might be near at hand when he too would share in a similar dreadful fate.
And so Perk found himself all in a nervous tremble as, laying down his gun, he managed once more to adjust the head harness, so as to be able to again hold communication with his fellow adventurer.
CHAPTER VI
PARACHUTE JUMPERS
Just then Jack hurriedly banked, and swung around as though to double back on their late course. This of course told Perk the pilot must be already aware of the terrible tragedy that was being enacted close at hand, and meant to see its finish with his own eyes.
With the abrupt change in their course he was in time to catch a glimpse of the flaming object still spiraling earthwards, a billow of fire that glowed suggestively in the darkness.
Then far below it seemed to strike the ground – they heard no sound whatever, but the fire became stationary; although increasing in fury, since the wind created by its passage no longer whipped the devouring flames. Evidently by the time the conflagration stopped for want of further material on which to feed, nothing inflammable would be left of the once haughty little Ryan masterpiece save the engine, and other metal parts.
“What’s the big idea, old hoss?”
Perk asked this as a leader, wishing to get a better grip on his own nerves, since they had been dreadfully shocked at the dire result of his random shot.
“Going to circle around a few times, and drop down a bit,” came the illuminating reply; “though I reckon it’s no use, since nothing could live in all that awful blast.”
“Mebbe not, Jack,” remarked Perk, a bit cheerily; “but there’s a fair chance neither o’ them guys got snagged in the flash o’ that gas.”