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

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style="font-size:15px;">      Both of them always made it a point never to dress in any fashion such as would be apt to give away the fact of their being airmen, or as having some connection with the following of aviators. This was done from a broad policy, founded on the fact that undoubtedly rumors of their calling might long ere this have posted criminal circles; and Jack for one had no fancy about having gunmen dogging his steps, with murder in their hearts, because of the fact that this pair of “birds” had been chiefly instrumental in sending some pal, or brother, to the “big house” for a long stay, or it might be to the chair to atone for his crimes.

      Jack always sat so he could look in careless fashion around the room. His manner was that of a social fellow, taking an inventory of the diners, as though wondering if he could single out some crony. There was nothing of the “eagle eye that could look into a man’s very soul, and read his hidden thoughts,” as usually connected with the mystery story, or stage detective – not about Jack, or for that matter Perk either – so far as outward appearances went they were only a couple of goodnatured young men, smiling and agreeable, enjoying their meal, and chatting about the latest stirring events of the day in the field of sports, possibly also interested in political matters, as would be natural.

      Perk always declared he felt as though he had put on a mask, when thus debarred from “talking shop,” with curious ears so close by; but he realized the necessity for such extreme caution, when they were always pitted against the desperadoes of the underworld in their daily work.

      “Somethin’ o’ a mob here tonight, partner?” suggested Perk, after they had been served by Joe, the waiter, and taken the edge off their appetites; both having settled on the same aromatic dish, which Perk was savagely attacking.

      “Looks that way, Perk; if this keeps on we’ll have to find another place to feed, when we strike San Diego again; since neither of us is partial to crowds. Remember the old frontiersman who complained that the neighborhood was getting too thickly settled for him and his folks, because a new family had started to build a log cabin less than seven miles away? People look at what makes a crowd with different viewpoints, we have to remember; what is flesh to one is just poison to another man.”

      “Huh! never heard tell o’ that idear ’fore,” confessed the interested Perk; “but it rings like there might be somethin’ in the same. See anybody yeou happens to know ’round here partner?”

      “Not one that I would be apt to speak to,” Jack told him; “of course we see some of them each night; but they’ve paid no attention to us, for which we’re only too glad; doesn’t pay to pick up chance acquaintances at haphazard, when you happen to be engaged in a certain type of business. If you reckon you’ve attended to that vacuum downstairs we might as well be moving out, and give some of the standup people a chance at this table.”

      “Let’s get goin’ then,” agreed Perk, pushing back his chair; which action caused several groups of impatient waiting persons to start toward the spot, so as to preempt the vacant table.

      “Show tonight, Jack?” queried the satisfied Perk, as they moved along.

      “I ought to get busy once more on my stuff, as my programme isn’t at all complete; but just the same I don’t want to overdo such brain fatiguing work, and have to lay off a spell – nothing to be gained by such corrupt practices, I imagine. So, since I know you feel as if you’d like to see something, to take your mind off business for one night, decide on where you want to go, and we’ll be off.”

      “Course I’m not really dead set on seeing any picture,” apologized Perk; “but chances are we aint agoin’ to have another whiff o’ a screen drama for days and days; an’ it’ll fill in time, as well as freshenin’ up yeour mind more’r less, buddy.”

      What they saw and heard does not concern us in following up this, their latest exploit; but evidently Perk fully enjoyed the night’s entertainment, since he seemed to be in a jovial state of mind all the way back to their sleeping quarters.

      Their ship was quartered close to a well known aviation field, where air mail was coming and going at all hours of the day and night; as well as privately owned planes of the very latest design, some of them wonderful craft in which daring adventurers could seek out the utmost parts of the earth, backed of course, by an abundance of necessary funds.

      They were not known under their real names to any of those who from time to time they chanced to meet and chat with. It was generally understood however, that Jack was the son of a wealthy family in the South – New Orleans to be specific; and had come from Candler Field in Atlanta, with his companion as assistant pilot. Moreover they were believed to be waiting for certain things to transpire, after which they meant to take an extended jaunt down through South America, over the Andes, and the vast wilderness of the Amazon Valley, with its tributaries, engaged in collecting myriads of wonderful orchids, said to have their habitat in that torrid region.

      Thus no one had bothered them to any extent – at least not thus far; realizing that the young explorer expressed a dislike about creeping into print, and having his plans broadcast, so that perhaps some rival plant hunter might “slip one over” and beat him to the much prized field.

      They came and went, as they pleased in their boat, making sure never to leave the slightest evidence of their true calling lying around, which would be apt to “lift the lid,” and give them away. When Perk that very day was so busily engaged loading up, it was all in line with their pretended objective; entering into the spirit of the great game of “pulling the wool over the eyes” of curious fellow aviators, Perk took delight in concocting an extravagant yarn, depicting some of the possible adventures he anticipated running across down in the countries of South America – Brazil, the Orinoco River forest lands, Peru, Chili and the Argentine – enough to make them envy his good fortune, when tough Luck bound them in fetters along the line of their more prosaic jobs.

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      See “Sky Pilots’ Great Chase.”

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