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

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  Transcriber's note:

  Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).

  TRACKERS OF THE FOG PACK

  or Jack Ralston Flying Blind

  by

  AMBROSE NEWCOMB

  Author ofThe Sky DetectivesEagles of the SkyWings over the RockiesSky Pilots' Great Chase

  New YorkThe Goldsmith Publishing Co.Publishers

  Copyright 1931The Goldsmith Publishing Co.

  Made in U. S. A.

  CONTENTS

  _Chapter_ _Page_ I PERK SIGHS FOR ACTION 7 II HE GETS HIS WISH 15 III ECHOES OF THE PAST 24 IV BY SPECIAL DELIVERY 31 V THE CAT IS OUT OF THE BAG 38 VI LAYING PLANS 45 VII READY FOR ANYTHING 54 VIII THE WINGED MESSENGER 65 IX HEADED FOR TROUBLE 72 X BATTLING WITH THE FOG 79 XI THE MYSTERY AIRSHIP 86 XII WHEN THE DAWN BROKE 96 XIII ALL THANKS TO SIMEON 104 XIV CLOSING THE GAP 111 XV A CLEVER LANDING 118 XVI UP AGAINST A SILVER-TIP 125 XVII PERK SHOWS HIS HAND 134 XVIII THE CIRCLING BUZZARDS 143 XIX TAKING GREAT CHANCES 150 XX ON THE ENCIRCLING CLIFF 157 XXI ALL ON A DIET 164 XXII THE MAN WITH THE COOK'S CAP 173 XXIII PERK CARRIES ON 182 XXIV IN THE TOM SAWYER CAVERN 189 XXV SQUATTERS' RIGHTS 197 XXVI A BACK DOOR TO THE VALLEY 208 XXVII PIKE'S PEAK, OR----BUST! 216 XXVIII INVADING THE TIGERS' LAIR 223 XXIX ALL READY FOR THE GRAND BLOWOUT 230 XXX THE END OF ROBBERS' ROOST----CONCLUSION 234

  Trackers of the Fog Pack

  CHAPTER I

  PERK SIGHS FOR ACTION

  San Diego, in sunny Southern California, was looking its prettiest, withbalmy breezes blowing softly; cloudless blue skies overhead; the usualthrongs on the streets, and a general atmosphere of contentment restingover the entire place.

  Already tourist pilgrims were beginning their annual migration from thecold lands of the north and northeast, seeking the more congenialclimate along the picturesque Coast, where flowers bloomed throughoutevery month of the year; and outdoor sports of all descriptions temptedthose inclined that way to participate.

  But, just the same, there appeared to be _one_ individual saunteringalong Main Street, in a certain San Diego suburb, who did not seem toshare in the general joyous spirit--this grumbler amidst such perfectsurroundings was really an old friend of the reader, no other than GabePerkiser, familiarly known among his fellows of the flying fields by theshorter name of "Perk."

  At his side stalked his bosom pal, Jack Ralston, in whose companylatterly the said Perk had participated in a number of thrilling flyingstunts, all of which have been narrated in the earlier books of thisseries of aviation stories.

  Those who have enjoyed a previous recital of their adventures in theprecarious vocation they followed, as policemen of the skies, need nofurther introduction to the pair of cronies. For the benefit of newreaders, less fortunate, it may be said right here, before embarking onthe latest and most thrilling of their recent exploits, that Jack andPerk were trusted members of Uncle Sam's wide-flung Secret Serviceorganization; and on account of their clever and conscientious work,often entrusted with some of the most dangerous and difficult missionsengaging the attention of the high "muck-a-muck" (Perk's definition)authorities at Washington Headquarters.

  "What puts you in the dumps so, Perk?" Jack was asking, after noticingfor the tenth time what a frown had settled on his chum's usuallysmiling phiz. "Dinner knocking harder than customary; or did you get aletter from your best girl, breaking off the engagement? Strikes meyou're fast becoming a chronic crepe-hanger these days."

  "That's all hot air--boloney I'd call it, as yeou know right well,Jack!" Perk flung back. "Chow was all to the good--ain't got nary a bestgal, an' never did have, neither--they're all rank pizen to me. Guessagain, Mister."

  "Then what _does_ ail you, boy--something gone wrong with yourplans--can I do anything to ease the strain? I'd go a long way to getyou out of that black look, partner; you're worrying me a heap I allow."

  The other stopped short on Main Street's pavement, and looked hiscompanion straight in the face, actually smiling a bit in the bargain.

  "Yeou _would_ do jest that, ole pal, wouldn't yeou? I know I'm a tarnelfool to get stewed like this," he burst out; "an' orter be ashamed--I'mmeanin' to kick outen it right away. Fact is, it's the same ole story,Jack--I'm gettin' fed up by things goin' too smooth. Guess it's in theblood--my Yankee ancestors they was all men o' action, doers o' thingsthat called fur courage an' double risk. They set their seal on me,seems like; fur ever since I was a kid I've been on the hunt furadventure by land an' sea; yeah, an' o' late years, in the air besides.That's all I gotter say; but blood'll tell ev'ry time."

  "Well," remarked Jack, looking much relieved it could be seen. "I morethan half suspected this, Perk; but cheer up--the longest lane must haveits turning. Meanwhile we're getting our regular pay from our UncleSamuel, remember!"

  "But not earnin' a red cent, jest the same, which is what upsets memost," continued the complaining one. "Makes me feel like I'm sorterpensioned off, an' ain't worth the snap o' my fingers to the Service.Huh!"

  "Nonsense, boy, that's a silly way of looking at things. We're justresting up after that difficult job we pulled off, with the help of theMounted Police, far away up in Northwest Canada.[1] That successfulflight, and arrest, earned us a vacation, our superiors believe; which Ifor one have enjoyed immensely. Now I'm feeling fine, and fit for thenext commission the Big Boss decides to hand out to us."

  "Hot-diggetty-dig! then I sure hopes it drifts this way right quick,"Perk eagerly observed. "I kinder guess them racketeers an' their crowdo' bootleggers must a got things mighty near sewed up, when theDepartment lets us loaf away our time out here on the Gold Coast. If itkeeps on we'll be apt to forget heow to handle a ship, an' get airshy--neow _wouldn't_ that same be a tough joke on us poor guys?"

  "Little danger of such a thing coming to pass, Perk--it's a whole bitlike swimming--once you learn how to keep afloat it's good for alife-time."

  "Mebbe so, Jack--I got a hunch it's the same way with ridin' a bike usedto be--first few days yeou felt stiff in all yeour joints, ev'rythingout o' kelter; but when a chump got used to guidin' the skittish wheelalong it came as easy as fallin' off a log. Honest Injun, neow, Jack,ain't yeou any idea when we're apt to grab an order to get goin' again?"

  "Any old day I'm looking for the same, Perk."

  "Gosh! that don't strike me as givin' much encouragement, partner," Perktold his mate, aggrievedly.

  "I wrote in ten days ago," Jack went on to say, quietly, "to say ourship was in first-class condition, while we
were on deck, waiting fororders."

  "Bully for yeou!" snapped Perk, brightening up visibly, as though, likea war horse at the scent of burnt powder making his nostrils quiver withanticipation. "I'm right neow yearnin' to set eyes on a differentlandscape than sleepy ol' San Diego, an' slow towns borderin' on thesame."

  Perk only stated a truth when he referred to his adventurous life. Hewas considerably older than his running mate, having been over in Francewhen only eighteen years of age, handling a sausage balloon on thefighting line, and running into numerous close corners, having been shotdown at least twice.

  After the war was over he came home, and started learning the ropes ofthe new craze--flying; becoming a very good pilot in time, though a bitreckless, it must be admitted.

  Then he drifted into the lumber camps, and played logger for a fewseasons. After that Perk, who was proud of having a strain of Canadianblood along with his Yankee heritage, turned up among the Mounties inthe Far Northwest regions and spent some years doing service with thosedashing officers enforcing the Law of the wilderness.

  Meeting up with Jack Ralston--after being coaxed to throw his fortunesin with the Secret Service at Washington, he took a strong liking forthe bright-witted youngster, and they had been boon comrades ever since,sharing their blankets, meeting all manner of peril in company, andbecoming what might be called real "blood brothers."

  So, too, had Jack been through some interesting experiences, althoughnot of the same thrilling character as those Perk could look back to,when musing of the past.

  He had had a run of circus training, being a natural athlete; and on thebills had been advertised as a famous trapeze performer. Then naturallythe lure of the air gripped Jack, and forsaking the sawdust ring hebegan making parachute drops with one of those barnstorming aviatorspossessing a dilapidated crate with which he was wont to giveexhibitions at Harvest Home festivals, and County Fairs all over theWest--just as Lindbergh did in his school days.

  It was in this fashion that young Ralston learned to be a clever pilot;and possibly his skill at the controls was one leading factor bringingabout an earnest invitation for him to join up with the SecretService--about that time it became evident that a new branch of the Laworganization must be built up, in order to compete with the lawlesssmuggling gangs that were already using airplanes with which to fetchcontraband of every description into the country.

  So well did the pair co-operate that they worked as two parts of thewhole machine--as one hand knows what the other hand requires to make afinished product so their brains often worked in unison, thus addingadditional strength to their united efforts.

  As they continued their walk, meaning to return to the city in time forlunch, Perk continued to ramble on with observations covering muchground; for he had a decided opinion on every variety of subject, andcould be depended on to exploit his ideas at the slightest invitation.

  "No use talkin,' Jack," he was saying, as he tapped his pocketsignificantly, "that same Jerry Slocum's a crackin' good locksmith an'gunsmith. I took up with his offer, yeou know, to put my ol'six-shooter, used in France with my work in the sausage balloon corps,in apple-pie condition; an' he done a smart job. He happened to havesome ammunition to fit the gun, so I laid in a bunch o' cartridges,meanin' to shoot at a target when time hung heavy on my hands. Butlisten, will yeou, ol' pard, what's all that whoopin' mean 'round thecorner jest ahead--sounds like a reg'lar _stampede_ was takin' place,I'd say if yeou asked me?"

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  Footnote 1:

  See "_Sky Pilots' Great Chase_."