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

Jack went on to interpret the contents of the little missive that had been carried all the way from the heart of the mountains. Perk listened as if bent on letting each and every word sink deeply into his receptive mind for future use.

“Them ere directions for locatin’ the place where they foregather, is shore valuable stuff fur aour crowd, Jack, ole hoss,” he finally remarked, after his chum had read the writing on the thin paper twice, putting due emphasis on certain words that had an apparently significant meaning.

“Particularly Perk, that part describing a splendid landing-field some miles distant, where we could drop down safely, and without getting close enough to the haunt for sharp ears to catch the noise of a ship’s exhaust.”

“Wust thing ’bout human bloodhounds huntin’ their prey in a bus – never will seem right to me ’til they fix things so’s we kin creep up on aour prey without tellin’ the hull world a airplane is somewhere ’round. Think that happy day ever will come, Jack?”

“Sure it will, Perk, and we’ll see it to – if it so happens we haven’t already crashed, and gone west. Why not, when such wonderful advances are being made in aviation circles every moon. Right now we’re doing a lot of amazing stunts with our ships that were never dreamed of five years ago. Anything is possible, now they’ve got started taking to the air.”

“Huh! it was time all right,” grunted Perk; “when yeou see haow all the highways air gettin’ glutted with autos, ’specially clost to big cities. Even San Diego folks find it hard to git ’round on Sundays an’ holidays. But this fresh happenin’ sorter gives me a hunch we’re agoin’ to make the ripple, an’ fetch home the bacon after all – things they air all workin’ thataways.”

“I had the last word from the weather man,” Jack went on to add; “and I’m sorry to say it wasn’t quite as fine as I’d like.”

“Storm agoin’ to hold us up, mebbe naow, partner?” suggested Perk, with one of his impatient frowns, as he disliked very much being balked in any plan.

“N – no, not quite that bad; but there are reports of a nasty field of fog gathering in the direction of the mountains far back from the coast; but we’ll have to take our chances, now we’re fixed for the jump – it may not turn out as bad as they reckon on. Let’s get ready to slip off, Perk.”

CHAPTER IX

Headed for Trouble

An hour later the two adventurers arrived at the San Diego aviation grounds, having taken a taxi to carry them and their limited luggage.

The night was a fine one, so far as the star-studded heavens could be taken as an indication. If there was fog gathering some hundreds of miles distant along the route of the air mail course, no indication of such worry to the pilot’s peace of mind had reached this coastal station.

“Goin’ to have a right decent start, looks like,” Perk mentioned, after they had dismissed the taxi close to the isolated hangar just outside the aviation field limits.

“I expected we’d have it clear as a bell,” Jack told him, as he unlocked the doors of the hangar; “just as well that we don’t have our troubles strike us before we even hit our pace – time enough for all that when we get well on our way.”

As Jack had anticipated there was light aplenty for their purpose; ships were coming and going at this early time in the evening, so that the field lights were all on, making it easy to see.

Secrecy was such a part of their business that they did not even have hostlers present to help push their bus out to the runway – it would not be the first occasion when these two energetic fellows had managed all such things by themselves.

They did not loiter, now that the final take-off was at hand; Jack was a little afraid lest some mechanic, or pilot, hearing them working, and being more or less curious concerning the pair who owned the trim aircraft in which they had been taking trips for weeks past, (and about whom a halo of mystery hovered) might come nosing around, offering to lend a hand, but really hoping to pick up a few words that would explain their leaving under cover of night – honest to goodness sportsmen, going off for a hunt, or a fishing jaunt to the mountains, would not be apt to time their departure while the world was smothered in darkness.

They were now poised on the short runway, and ready to start off. Perk had followed his mate aboard, and was already busying himself with certain preliminary duties that always fell to his charge.

“Ready, all?” called out Jack.

“Give her the gun, partner!” replied Perk.

There was a sudden roar as the engine took the spark, a quiver of the entire craft, and then a quick jerk as Jack moved the throttle toward his chest. Down the slight slope they started, gathering more headway with every second until the ship was bumping rapidly over the ground, her skid already beginning to scorn the soil as if eager to take to the air.

Then her nose being pointed upwards she began to rise like a bird, passing well over the trees that stood at the end of the course.

They were off on their momentous and perilous mission; only Fate knew what the result would prove to be; whether success awaited them, or failure, perhaps even death; for they were bound on an errand to a country where the majesty of the Law was scorned, where might meant right, and men did not place much value on a human life, more or less.

To see how joyous Perk seemed to be no one would imagine he gave much heed to the prospect of thrilling episodes that would threaten them as soon as they entered the danger zone. But then that was the way with Perk, who loved adventure and close calls, and was never happier than when defying the power of lawless men, badly wanted by those higher-ups in charge of the famous Secret Service.

The lighted aviation field was quickly left far behind, as Jack headed into the northeast, with the intention of holding to the beacon-lighted trail of the air mail up to a certain point; when they must abandon those welcome markers that flashed their intelligence every ten seconds, and were so useful for keeping the mail carriers on their proper course.

Like most up-to-date pilots Jack and his mate had supplied themselves with the handy ear-phones, by adjusting which to their heads they could communicate in a satisfactory fashion when it became necessary. But for this wise preparedness they would have had to shout at the top of their lungs in order to pass a few words back and forth – a most unsatisfactory way of doing, as every pilot has found out in times gone by, when there was no other method known.

For a full hour they kept on their way persistently following the air mail route. It was exceedingly refreshing to be able to note as many as three flashing beacons at the same time, from the four thousand foot ceiling at which Jack was flying, the further one rather dim, it is true; but strong enough to catch the watchful eye of the pilot.

Perk had kept “bottled up” as long as he could stand it, and now broke out as if eager to ask some sort of question that was on his mind. Under such conditions it was his usual way to gradually approach the matter by jerks.

“Huh! pretty soft I’d call it, partner, if yeou troubled to ask me,” he observed as an opener.

“As what?” demanded Jack, tersely.

“The job o’ bein’ an air mail runner – everything fixed for ’em so’s they kin keep on the right track – who’d lose his way with them friendly flash-light beacons apoppin’ up ev’ry ten miles’r so, I want to know?”

“You’re away off your reckoning when you say that, Perk; remember how they’ve got to meet up with tough storms; and pea soup fogs you could cut with a knife, they’re so thick. And in parts of their run the country is treacherous, with slants of wind breaking out of deep canyons; then, too, if anything goes wrong aboard their boat to make a safe landing on such rocky ground is full of all kinds of difficulties. No, the air mail pilot doesn’t have such a sweet time of it as you seem to think – a night like this he can consider a peach; only there are not many built that way. You know they lots of times insist on starting out when a wheen of pilots would stay safe on the ground, and not take desperate chances.”

“Partner, yeou’ll have to excuse haste an’ a bad pen, as the pig said after breaking out, and skippin’ off on a full run. That time I shore didn’t count ten ’fore I broke loose. Guess naow all pilots git up agin hard fixes onct in a while, where the finest flash beacons in the hull world caint help ’em any. I kin understand haow it aint possible to lamp them lights atall through a thick fog – on’y by the altitude marker kin yeou tell if youre aflying sky high, or near scraping the ground. But did yeou happen to hear a ship takin’ off jest after we slid aout, boss?”

“Yes, but that didn’t give me any concern, Perk. No danger of it’s being any spy interested in following us.”

“But jest the same, Jack, she’s been keepin’ on aour tail right along,” protested the watchful one, as if he might have been worried a bit.

“Why not, when like as not the pilot is carrying the U. S. mail, and on his reg’lar night run north. We happen to be making use of his lights, that’s all; and he’s attending to his usual business. When we sheer off to the east soon now, leaving these flashlights behind, then if you discover a ship following after us it’ll be time to do something, not before.”

“Thanks, partner; jest thought I had orter tell yeou, that’s all,” and with that Perk lapsed into silence again, having worked his mind clear once more.

Further time passed.

They had covered some hundreds of miles since leaving San Diego, and Jack, watching his map understood the time was close at hand for him to alter his course, and turn sharply toward the east, while the lighted mail line of travel continued northward.

Ten minutes afterwards and Perk again broke out.

“I kin see the fust wisps o’ that ere fog yeou was a tellin’ ’baout, boss,” he announced grimly, as though appreciating the flashing beacons more than before, now that they were about at the end of their string, with the whole world of mountainous ground facing them, so full of hidden snares and pitfalls, not to mention human tigers with a fierce vendetta against all those busybodies of their particular breed.

“That’s interesting news, but not so delightful, Perk, since I’m just going to switch, and head into the east.”

CHAPTER X

Battling with the Fog

Thanks to his carefully studied chart Jack knew just about when he must head into the east, and make for the disputed land, where fugitives from justice had long kept away from the long arm of the Law. In former days there had been just such a safe hiding-place further to the north, locally known as the “Hole in the wall;” but it was of the past, and for some years had been thrown open to settlers and tourists.

The die was cast, and for better or worse they had made their decision; but neither of them had any disposition to turn back. Danger and these men of the Force were accustomed to being familiar campmates; since there was no mission on which they could be sent but had its share of peril; if such expeditions were but picnics it would not be so necessary to dispatch the prize men of the Service on the track, where others had failed after shooting their bolt.

Speedily were they swallowed up in the night. Far distant, and in the east a mellow light low-down announced the rising of the moon, now far advanced in its last quarter. Jack did not count for any assistance in the rising of the uncrowned queen of the night, since already he could see the gathering fog was growing thicker every passing minute.

Several times he lost the remnant of moon entirely, to have it creep into view again, as though the thick vapor had temporarily opened up; but only to close in again worse than ever, until the glimpse of the climbing orb came no more.

Thus began their fight with the fog – its insidious influence seemed to shut them in like an opaque curtain, growing more and more dense as the minutes moved along.

Realizing that they were now heading into that stretch where they might expect to meet with lofty mountain peaks, and crags, Jack began a steady upward climb, being most desirous of taking no unnecessary chances of crashing against a rock cliff that was hidden from their view by the creeping fog.

It seemed to be a most extraordinary fog, all told, Perk explained to his own satisfaction. Usually when thus compassed around about by a dense sea of vapor, and unable to take any sort of reckoning by means of the heavens above, or the earth beneath, this trouble could be remedied by climbing still further into the region of the clouds, and thus finding an altitude where the air was sweet and pure, even if a bit shivery.

Apparently that was not going to answer in the present case. Jack had ascended until they were already some eight thousand feet from the earth; but if anything their enemy the fog appeared to be more dense than ever.

In fact, it did not seem worth while to pursue this system of tactics any further, in order to beat the enshrouding blanket of sticky wetness – why, if they kept on much longer, the cold increasing the higher they lifted their ship, that same dripping moisture would be turning into ice, and the additional weight was apt to play havoc all around.

“Don’t seem to be any let-up to the derned stuff, Jack,” Perk at this time observed in the ear of his running mate.

“Bad medicine, all right – don’t like it one bit, partner,” came just the answer Perk would have sworn his pal would make.

“Seems like there aint nawthin’ we kin do to make things easier, eh, buddy?”

“Must peg away, keeping our nose pointed east, and ready to drop down lower if given half a show,” was how the head pilot answered him.

“Yeah! don’t ’pear to be anythin’ else in sight, an’ its sure gettin’ mighty cold ’raound these diggin’s, boy. I’m agoin’ to drag aout my heavy fleece-lined coat, an’ climb into the same jest for fun.”

“Go to it, old chap; and after you’re settled give me a chance to follow through, since I’m beginning to shiver as if I had the ague. This cold of the upper air currents is a heap worse than any we run into on the ground – seems to go all through you like a knife. Phew!”

Apparently Jack was not yet satisfied to drop lower; he would give their present altitude a little more chance to show what it could do in pressing the beastly fog down in the direction of the earth.

“Thunder an’ Mars! aint it awful thick, though?” Perk was telling himself, as he rubbed the glass, and did his best to pierce the miserable stuff by which they were thus bound, so they had no power to break loose. “Don’t b’lieve I ever did see such a mess in all my days. Talk ’bout flyin’ blind, if we aint adoin’ that same right naow I’ll eat my hat!”

Flying blind – yes, that name seemed most appropriate. Perk could look away back to his childhood, and see the boys and girls playing – himself with a handkerchief over his eyes, and trying to grope his way around so as to lay hold of the active dodgers who slipped out of his grip so adroitly. But he also remembered, with a chuckle, how as a rule it was always possible for the bandage to be lifted just a little, allowing the chaser slight glimpses of those whom he was supposed to trap, and catch hold of.

“Huh! no sech luck in this here game up ’bove the clouds,” Perk grumbled, as if much provoked because there was no chance to “peep” – that pea-soup sea covering so many miles in every direction was absolutely impenetrable; and their only resource would be to depend on their reliable instruments; keep their wits about them, so as to know how far they were going in a certain direction; and when relief came be able to about pick their position on the map.

That was supposed to be Jack’s affair, and Perk felt quite willing to trust his side partner to the limit; whatever Jack decided on he was ready to make unanimous, and let it go at that; so why worry his poor brain when his pal was so much better equipped for handling things?

Still, he did worry – it would not have been Perk otherwise; for he found all manner of grewsome possibilities crowding into his mind such as must give him what he called “the willies.”

“Hot-diggetty-dig!” he grumbled to himself “but this is a nasty mixup we’ve tumbled into. Jack, he says to me the weather reports tell haow there seems to be a bit of fog aformin’ off to the mountings – say, if they calls this a bit I wonder what a real smashin’ big fog’d seem like. From the way she acts I’m commencin’ to figger as haow she could keep this way right along fur a hull day’nd night, withaout fazin’ any; an’ that’s no bunk either. S’pose it does that same, what’s bound to happen to us dicks runnin’ wild up here, I want to know?”

That was always Perk’s trouble – anticipating things long before they were really due. He even figured out how, with gas and supplies running low, in the end they might have to make a perilous forced landing, taking most desperate chances of a calamitous smash.

It kept him on “needles and pins” to have such a dire threat loom up so soon after their takeoff, with the work connected with their mission entirely in the future, and unaccomplished.

How the minutes did seem to drag when they were pretty much in the dark as to the progress their ship was making; or whether they had managed to hold on to the course set by Jack in the beginning.

“Huh! it’s like gropin’ ’raound yeour bedroom in the pitch dark, when wakin’ up from a bad dream – kinder lose yeour head, an’ get sorter nutty in the bargain. Mebbe we’re miles an’ miles eouten the way, even gettin’ wuss rattled right along; but say, that aint like my partner, to lose his head, an’ run us into a blind sack. I jest got to depend on Jack to pull us through – aint I seen him come eout right-side up heaps o’ times when things they had an awful black look?”

Taking himself to task after this fashion Perk rose up out of his state of despondency, and actually forced himself to chuckle, as if things looked perfectly all right in his eyes; but there was something lacking in the sound, something superficial, and his seeming hilarity did not last long.

Thus it happened that once, when Jack, believing they were attaining too great altitude, took a slide down, shutting off the power; Perk felt positive he again caught a sound from somewhere that must certainly have come from the exhaust of an airship motor, running at full speed!

The thought gave him a momentary thrill, it seemed so pregnant of accumulating possibilities in the line of hazards; his old fear lest they should have been surreptitiously followed by some secret enemy, in the shape of an ally of the men they sought to run down, returned in full force, to stab him most viciously.

CHAPTER XI

The Mystery Airship

“I say, Jack!” Perk called, making use of the friendly ear-phones.

“What’s eating you, buddy?” demanded the other, who must have known from his comrade’s shifting about so much there was something amiss.

“Did yeou hear it?” asked Perk, anxiously.

“You mean that sound in the fog pack, don’t you?” Jack countered.

“Yeah, yeou said it, partner – I kinder guess naow it was a ship up here in this same sea we’re buzzin’ through, don’t yeou?”

“Couldn’t be anything else, because we’re thousands of feet away from ground,” Jack admitted; and somehow it gave his chum a feeling of relief to notice how his voice showed no signs of sudden alarm.

“As haow would yeou make it eout to be – some bewildered air-mail pilot loose in his bearin’s, and shootin’ ahead, thinkin’ he could get somewhere right speedy, so’s to find his course agin?”

“Not any, Perk; and you’ll realize that much if you figure things out in a matter-of-fact way. They don’t have greenhorns in the air-mail service, or carrying passengers on the big lines – every applicant for a job has got to have a thousand hours at least in the air, and even at that he isn’t reckoned to have won his spurs. If such an experienced flier got balled up in this fog blanket he’d do just what we’re carrying out – depend utterly on his instruments. His compass would tell him he could never regain his course by flying due east!”

“That’s what he’s adoin’ then, yeou figger, eh, Jack?”

“Sure thing, boy – he’s directly behind us, and getting closer right along, for the sounds keep growing louder.”

“Guess that’s so, partner – I kinder had an idee he was on aour tail. What’s the answer, Jack?”

“Another dive, maybe two in fact, so as to leave him this ceiling to himself. We can climb again, buddy, after he’s passed us, and pushes further on his way. That’s the only sensible thing to do.”

Perk had been allowing his mind to picture a battle royal up there in cloudland, amidst the fog mists, where machine-guns might rattle just as years ago they always did when bitter foes over on the French border came in contact, while bent on forays that took them on long air voyages, to bomb forbidding ammunition dumps, and thickly manned trenches back of No Man’s Land.

In imagination he had already heard the terrible long roll being sounded by the chattering quick-firing guns; with a hail of missiles sweeping all around them, like a swarm of enraged hornets as experienced in his own boyhood days.

But Jack, who kept his imagination under better control, did not look at things in the same way – his idea was not to accept the gage of battle when diplomacy and clever tactics could shift it on to some future date, when the chances might be more in their favor.

What a partner to have at your side when things looked more or less dubious – Perk drew a long breath as of relief, and inwardly blessed the day he paired up with Jack Ralston.

There, once more they were shooting almost straight down into that bewildering sea of fog. It could not but give even seasoned Perk the thrill of his life, as he contemplated what would happen should they dash against some isolated mountain crag or peak, while rushing along at this tremendous speed.

He held his breath during the score of seconds they occupied in thus seeking another ceiling. Then the quivering ship, under Jack’s skillful guidance, glided into a level course, and Perk breathed naturally once more.

While the swift descent continued he had listened intently, and was overjoyed to note how the distinct clamor of the other plane’s motor gradually grew fainter, thus proving that they must be increasing the distance separating the two hidden airships.

Jack, one eye on his altitude instrument, even brought about another dip, during which Perk failed to catch even the faintest mutter of a working motor; which fact seemed to prove beyond dispute their object had been achieved – the unseen flying craft had been given all rights to that upper ceiling, and all danger of a chance collision in the sky lanes was avoided, at least for the time being.

They were still heading into the east, with a shade running toward northeast, as though Jack continued to hold fast to his belief they were following the proper course. It required the most wonderful grasp upon the situation, as Perk well knew, to keep going so confidently through such an ocean of dense fog, utterly unable to see any obstacle threatening them ahead.

Perk, absolutely content to leave all matters of this sort in the hands of the partner who had never as yet failed him in a pinch, found himself wondering what that decision, given so assuredly by his companion, might signify – if not a lost air-mail pilot, then who could the unknown voyager, shooting so recklessly through the pea-soup sea, be?

They were again ascending, proving that Jack understood what additional chances for a mishap they were tempting at the lower level, and wished to play safe as soon as he could do so with the unknown ship having passed on into the unseen vacuum ahead.

Again did the temperature approach close to the freezing point, and no wonder, with their ship soaring at such a height; but in that part of the mountainous country they must expect to find lofty uplifts mounting to the clouds, many thousands of feet above all comfortable atmosphere.

Perk busied himself in moving around, following such duties as devolved on his shoulders while his partner handled the stick. His chief concern lay in the direction of finding out just when the dense vapor began to form a thin coating of ice on the wings.