saw how his partner seemed startled and uttered as exclamation indicative of pleasure.
V
WHEN A COG SLIPPED
“What’s up, partner?” demanded Perk who always admitted to being more or less curious-minded.
“Something I happened to pick up,” replied Jack, grinning happily, “after that chap dived into his car and tore off down the street like a house afire.”
“Huh! strikes me it looks kinder like a telegraph message buddy,” Perk replied eagerly as if he began to smell something like a fire burning.
“Go up head boy, you said it,” his mate told him. “Here, read what it says for yourself – you too, Cyclone, though it’ll be Greek to you since you don’t happen to know the gent who sent it to Cheyenne.”
Perk glued his eager eyes to the yellow slip of paper and as he took in the printed words he held his breath – as if unable to fully grasp the whole meaning of the message with only one reading, he started again, this time going over it aloud.
“Adolph Barkus, 173 Evergreen Street,
“Cheyenne, Wyoming.
“Have received positive information they are in your city. Pay particular attention to the young flyer. Treat him with brotherly kindness and to please me take him for a nice, long ride. Keep me posted. Things down here in something of a snarl. Better drop in and report. I may need you the worst way.
“Hot ziggetty dog! what d’ye think o’ that measly rum-runner bobbin’ up like a floatin’ cork to annoy us again?”
Perk gave all the signs of annoyance – he clenched his fist, frowned most horribly and drew a long breath as though his feelings threatened to overwhelm him entirely.
“Oh! we landed that gent behind the bars all right,” Jack remarked, taking things much more coolly than the excitable one, “but it’s hard to keep a man with a big wad of long-green shut up – he hires a celebrated lawyer, gets out on heavy bail, has his case postponed on one account or another until witnesses disappear and the public forgets what it’s all about. Like as not he’s as free as either of us, only it may be he’s forbidden to leave the State of Florida pending his trial – you notice the message was dispatched from Jacksonville.”
“From his getting on our track I kinder guess the gent must feel a bit peeved at the firm o’ Ralston an’ Perkiser. Brotherly kindness, eh? – take him for a nice long ride – how swell that’d be – an’ all jest to please Mr. Oswald Kearns, the high light o’ most o’ the schemes hatched up to run in case goods from Bimimi along the Florida shore.”
Then Perk forgot his indignation long enough to grin as though the humorous side of the case struck him.
“Such great luck I never did see,” he burst out, “to think o’ you pickin’ up his telegram so pat after we’d kicked him an’ his slinkin’ pal off the lot. That’s what I’d call incriminatin’ evidence, partner and if ever the case is called an’ we’re sent down to Florida to tell ’bout our part o’ the mess, this message ought to make the jury sit up an’ take notice, sure as I’m born it ought”
“I’ll keep it safe, you can well believe, Perk and I’m not bothering my head about those two sneaks for they’re not apt to give us any further trouble after what happened to them tonight. When this Mr. Barkus discovers how he must have dropped his fine telegram, he’ll suspect it fell into our hands and the chances are he’ll give us a wide berth the rest of our stay in this burg.”
“Jest so Jack, an’ let’s hope we’re goin’ to climb out o’ here right soon now. The dirty scoundrels – wantin’ to give you a ride, was they? Which means in these days take a feller off into the country, knock him on the head an’ dump him out on the road like he was a log. Zowie! times is out o’ joint strikes me, when these pesky gangs think nothin’ o’ murderin’ a man ’cause they don’t like the color o’ his necktie.”
Cyclone had listened to this exchange of conversation between his two companions and the look on his face plainly told that he could not grasp what it was all about.
“I’d like to get a grip on what all this clatter’s about, boys, if neither of you object. I ought to be starting back to Hollywood in the morning for they’re shouting and sending hot wires telling me I’m holding up the show; but since I’m crazy to see that boat of yours, and you promised me a little gallop up among the clouds, I’m bound to wait over till afternoon, no matter what happens to the bunch on the Coast – they c’n use my understudy till I choose to lope along and be hanged to ’em. Now, what about putting me wise to the game that was sprung on you tonight?”
“Nothing to hinder our telling you what we ran up against down in Florida last winter,” remarked Jack and as they settled back in their chairs in comfort he explained all about the mixup as recorded in the previous volume of this series.
Cyclone proved an attentive listener, eagerly drinking in the particulars – nodding his head approvingly at certain points that appealed especially to his discriminating mind until the finishing stroke had been laid bare when he jumped up to shake hands boisterously with both Jack and Perk and to give vent to his feelings in words.
“By the great horn spoon! so that’s the bully sort of life you fellers in the Secret Service lead, is it?” he exclaimed with flashing eyes and an expression of eagerness on his enraptured face. “Some fine day, after I’ve had a few words with my director and told him where he gets off, I’ll be hanged if I don’t strike out for Washington and try to bore my way into the game you’re following – suits my spirit to the dot – lots of adventure, fair pay and the thrill of turning back these smart alecs who think they own the world because they’ve got a speed boat and the jack to buy a load of hard stuff in the Bahamas that they figure on landing along our coast.”
“That mightn’t be such a bad idea, Cyclone, for a man built like you and who yearns for excitement,” observed Jack sympathetically, for he could understand just how the other must feel. “When you get to that point of kicking over the traces in the picture game let me know and perhaps I can speak a good word for you at Headquarters. They’re always in need of the right sort of men. Remember that, will you, Cyclone?”
“You bet I will Jack, and I mean every word I say, too. I’ve never gone up in an airship yet, but the desire’s been gripping me a heap lately and perhaps, after I make the try tomorrow morning, that you’ve so kindly promised me, the fever’ll get so high I just won’t be able to hold back any longer.”
“That depends on how you come through your examination,” Jack plainly explained. “A lot of boys have an itch to make the riffle, but are turned down because they lack some one of a dozen requirements that are positively essential these modern days to get a pilot’s license. But as far as I can see, you ought to pass with flying colors – no joke intended either.”
They sat there chatting for several hours. Cyclone’s enthusiasm fairly bubbled over at times as he listened to some of the accounts of adventures that had befallen both Jack and Perk in days gone by.
“The more I hear from you boys the sicker I get over the way I’m wasting my young life with foolish cowboy stunts and make believe fights in the pictures. It’s pretty much a fake business and gets on my nerves – even many of the most thrilling scenes are fakes of the worst kind – pulling the wool over the eyes of the simple public. I got a notion I’m built for something that’s genuine and not a fraud – when you lads get into
