The Sky Detectives; Or, How Jack Ralston Got His Man

CHAPTER I
READY FOR THE TAKE-OFF

It was a day in the late Fall when Jack Ralston, accompanied by his best pal, Gabe Perkiser, known simply as “Perk” by all his friends, found themselves climbing out of a hired taxi that had halted on the border of Candler Flying Field just a short distance out of Atlanta, Georgia.

“Huh! reg’lar mob out here today, seems like,” observed Perk, as he took note of the triple line of cars parked around the field, with its numerous up-to-date hangars, and with ships coming and going every few minutes.

“Yes, you see Perk, it happens to be a big day at stunt flying, with fat prizes for the winners. All the better for us, I’d say, since our take-off will hardly make a ripple in the pond, with all this confusion going on.”

“Sure thing, my boy,” continued Perk, with one of his humorous grins that betokened a good-natured chap; “and privacy’s just what we crave. I guess now that might be the mail comin’ from down East an’ New York?”

“A rotten guess then, Perk,” chortled the other; “Eastern mail boat was due here at six-ten this morning; the Pitcairn Aviation concern handle that route, as well as the run between Atlanta and Miami down in Florida; and I’m telling you for a fact the boys holding the stick with that corporation are nearly always on time to the dot, come storm, come fog as thick as pea-soup. The schedule I glimpsed at the Atlanta post office gave the time of the East Coast ship as seven-thirty P. M.; that from New Orleans at six-thirty P. M.; and the one from Chicago about the same time. So you see it couldn’t be a mail crate dropping down right now, unless they’d had to make a forced landing, and lost time in making repairs.”

“Yeah, come to think of it I sure did hear a bus passin’ over just at peep o’ day,” admitted Perk. “Let’s have a look-in while we’re here, and see what a bag o’ tricks these stunt flyers are holdin’ up their sleeves, so’s to give this crowd a row o’ thrills.”

“Suits me, Perk; no great hurry about our jumping off, so long as we pull the gun before dark sets in.”

“Shucks! little difference it makes on a patch as well lighted as this Candler Field o’ your home city, old boy; and with a flashlight beacon set every ten miles all the way down to Orleans, to keep us on our course. Look at that guy fairly burning the air like hot cakes – he must be tryin’ to beat the speed record, I guess, Jack.”

“Hardly a day comes without some record going by the board,” remarked Jack, who had a reputation as a safe and sane pilot, although on occasion he had been known to put through some tricks so death-defying as to make the hearts of the spectators seem to jump up in their throats with the thrill.

Perk was quite correct when he stated that Atlanta was the home city of his close friend and chum; although Jack’s family had moved away years back, and become fruit raisers in far-off California. Still, having spent some years in the Georgia capital Jack always liked to drop in and renew a limited number of old friendships when opportunity offered.

Jack Ralston had begun his aviation work starting at the lowest round, that of a Gypsy pilot, flying an ancient boat at County Fairs and Harvest Home gatherings; doing aerial stunts, and “bailing out” by means of a parachute while another pilot ran the ship; also taking up air minded “sand-bags” as passengers at so much each person.

From this modest beginning he had finally accepted a position with an aircraft corporation having contracts with the Post Office Department at Washington for carrying the mails, and later on express matter as well; and last of all working for Uncle Sam through joining the Secret Service corps of skillful detectives, whose activities covered every part of the Nation, and even to adjacent countries as well.

When the Government wearied of the bold doings of one “Slippery Slim” Garrabrant, and decided to “clip the wings” of that audacious freebooter and bogus-money crook, it was only natural they should pick Jack for this service. The reasons for doing so were many, but what counted most was Jack’s well known cleverness as an all-round air pilot; for it happened that the slick rogue who had been giving the revenue men such a wild-goose chase, with his thumb held up to his nose, so to speak, was himself a remarkable master of the air lanes, he having been an ace as a flying pilot over with the army on the Argonne front in France.

Since as a rule this troublesome offender carried on his bold enterprises by means of a handy plane – frequently with a single assistant, who helped handle both ship and cargo – the man thus selected to put a crimp in his activities was likewise given full permission to engage a helper from the same arm of the Government forces, one who must of course know something about the handling of a plane, so that in case of necessity he could serve as co-pilot.

Jack lost no time in picking Gabe Perkiser, otherwise known simply as “Perk” – a man who had supped with adventure since he was “knee high to a duck” – a half Yankee – half Canuck, drifting into the army, and serving with the sausage observation balloon corps over in France; from which patriotic occupation he later on became a champion light-weight boxer. Leaving the ring while as yet undefeated he served for several years with the Canadian Mounted Police. Here his smartness in usually fetching back his man, no matter what the difficulties that had to be surmounted, attracted the attention of a gentleman connected with Uncle Sam’s Secret Service, just then moose hunting over the northern border, who finally influenced Perk to join up with his force.

Jack and the other had met under peculiar conditions when both were tracking a bunch of check raisers floating across the country and leaving a wide swath of victims in their path. They had become more than friends, although meeting but seldom; then, when the opportunity came for Jack to call upon Perk to join him in the new job that had been turned over to his charge, the latter had responded with alacrity.

So here they were, on the threshold of an affair that promised to engage their united talents in running down the leader of the most troublesome gang of counterfeit currency makers known to the Government agents in the last ten years.

Every clue possessed at Headquarters had been turned over to Jack at the time he was given authority to carry on as the situation demanded; although this information was a bit limited, and much was left to the shrewdness of the two trail hounds themselves.

There was no hurry at all, and Jack had always been one of those cautious workers who meant to provide for all sorts of emergencies. Only too well did he know how many a splendid undertaking went on the rocks from lack of foreseeing the next move on the part of the astute criminals whose apprehension meant so much to the Government, as well as the folks they were victimizing.

But by now he had decided everything was arranged so far as human means would permit, and that it was high time they started on their long chase. Their boat, a Stinson Detroiter, a monoplane with a Wright Whirlwind motor, and reckoned to be an unusually swift craft, was already loaded, and ready for immediate departure. It had been stored in one of the big hangars connected with the Candler Flying Field but could be taxied into position when Jack felt ready to skip off.

Their flying togs were also contained in a locker in the same hangar, and could be donned in a jiffy, even to the ’chute harness that was so familiar to Jack, and a constant reminder of early experiences when he was accustomed to carry out his daily program of “quitting the ship” with as much sang froid as though the jump into space from a five thousand foot ceiling were absolutely next to nothing.

But plainly Perk was becoming a bit restless, as though eager to be on his way; which fact doubtless influenced Jack to eventually give the word that took them to their hangar. Here they commenced preparing for a night flight that was expected to land them in New Orleans, where Jack was to interview a certain representative of the Government service, from whom he anticipated receiving a few valuable tips that would give them something tangible and serve as a beginning of their arduous chase.

While they were thus engaged someone hailed them with a boisterous greeting, at which Perk grinned, and made a suitable reply.

“Hey, Scotty, this your night off, is it – got in from your route okay, and stepped out to see the boys cut a few figger-eights in the sky – just can’t keep away from the game, even when you got a lay-off? What’s new, old hoss?”

“They told me at the house you expected to step off tonight, boys – is that a fact, or did they slip an easy one over me, I want to know?” demanded the other, who was apparently a mail pilot friend of theirs – in fact, having the adjoining room at the small hotel where they were stopping.

“Yes,” Jack told him, secretive as usual, “we’re going further, and boosting the Stinson Detroiter ship by showing what it has to set it above most other boats. Plans not fully arranged as yet, but we’re on our way; so it’s good-bye, and good luck to you, Scotty.”

“How about that news, Scotty?” the insistent Perk went on to demand, being by nature one of those stubborn chaps who can never be happy until they get what they are after, no matter how trivial it may seem.

The air mail pilot scratched his head, and then with a grin answered Perk’s question.

“Nothing much along the line of aviation; but something queer happened to me – say, did you boys sleep at home last night while I was on the road?”

“We sure did,” Perk told him, and then added: “What makes you ask that, old hoss?”

“Didn’t hear any sort of racket in my den did you, fellows?” continued the other; at which Perk, after exchanging a look of bewilderment with his pal, hastened to answer.

“Not a thing, Scotty; but then you know I sleep like a log; and it’d have to be a thunderclap to wake me up; what’s been going on?”

“You got me guessing, Perk,” said the other, with a look of disgust; “only when I got in this morning I found my room looking like a hurricane had struck it, my things tossed out of drawers, my trunk broken open, and say, you never saw such a dirty mess. Course I asked the boss what it meant; but he was as much surprised as I was – talked with every servant from the cook down to Mary the chamber maid; but nobody could tell a darned thing about it.”

Again Jack and Perk exchanged a swift glance, as though the same idea had struck both of them. Scotty did not appear to notice this, being too worked up with the mystery that had so suddenly gripped his fortunes.

“Did you lose anything worth while, Scotty?” Jack asked, in a voice that suggested sympathy; but to his surprise the other shook his head in the negative, and even grinned as he lifted his heavy eyebrows to say:

“That’s the funny part of it, boys; whoever the sneak thief was, he didn’t even dent me a little bit – so far as I c’n see not a blessed thing is missing – fact is, I’m even better off than before he paid that queer visit, ’cause he left this old pocketbook mixed up with my traps; and it ain’t mine for a fact, though I’m meaning to spend the little wad of dough it holds. Like manna coming down to the children of Israel in the Wilderness, wouldn’t you say, boys?”

“Lucky old hoss you are, Scotty,” remarked Perk, enviously; while Jack nodded his head as though to echo the sentiment.

CHAPTER II
THE LUCK OF SCOTTY

“Happen to have that pocketbook along with you, Scotty?” asked Jack, in a matter of fact tone; just as though he might be possessed of ordinary curiosity concerning so amazing a visit; since never before had he heard of a night prowler leaving his own money behind him, when his intention had been to rob his victim.

“Sure thing, Jack,” promptly replied the air mail pilot; “here, take a squint at my Christmas present, dropped in by old Santa Claus a bit before the reg’lar holiday season,” and with a laugh he chucked the object in question into the hand of the other.

“Old, just as you remarked, Scotty,” observed Jack, “and used a long time. It must have slipped out of his pocket when he worked your stuff over to mix it up like the devil.”

“Open it up and see what the blessed chump left me in place of his card,” the other continued, looking exceedingly proud over his lucky find.

Jack did that with alacrity; in fact it was what he intended doing, for reasons of his own; something more than curiosity influencing him, it would appear.

“Gee whiz! a neat little bunch of the needful, I’d say, Scotty, old hoss!” burst out the envious Perk, his eyes fixed full upon the contents of the much worn pocketbook, which Jack was holding in his hand and apparently interested in counting, for there were a number of bank notes for various amounts, and among them just three five-dollar bills, seemingly quite fresh, though a bit soiled, as though they had been in circulation.

“Nineteen smackers in all,” announced Perk, showing that he had also been keeping tabs on the count. “Well, wouldn’t that knock you cold though? Huh? that same caller must’ve been looking for me, and just missed connections by striking the next door. Well, here’s wishing you the same old luck every time a sneak thief pays you a visit, Scotty boy.”

Jack on his part was feeling of the three five-dollar bills, and holding them up to the light from the western sun that managed to come into the hangar by way of the open doors.

“What ails you, Jack?” demanded the recipient of Fortune’s smiles, as he noticed these strange actions on the part of his new friend.

“Nothing much,” he was told, “only I’m going to give you a bit of advice, partner, if you don’t mind.”

“Go to it, boy; always willing to take it when it seems sound!” snapped the mail carrier, briskly enough, still more than curious.

“If you’re wise, Scotty,” went on Jack, smilingly, “you’ll not try to pass any one of these five-dollar bills until you’ve asked the opinion of some bank teller – it might get you into trouble.”

“Zowie! what’s that you’re saying, Jack – don’t tell me they’re off-color bills, counterfeits in fact. Wouldn’t that be a rotten deal to hand out, and me figgering how I’d spend them? Is that what you mean?”

“I reckon it’s so, Scotty, much as I hate to knock your good luck,” Jack told him, with a shake of his head. “I happened to have a little experience in a small bank some years ago and they did say I showed signs of being a clever detector of bad money. That’s a clever job all right; but I’m afraid it won’t stand the wash worth a cent. Go slow, and don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched. Also I’d advise you not to go around telling about your windfall until you’ve shown this stuff to some friendly bank official, whose advice you’d be willing to take. If he says it’s good stuff why forget what I’m saying, and go the limit. But we’d better be finishing our own job, Perk, and get off on our jump.”

Scotty hung around for a short time, looking puzzled, as though he hardly knew how much to believe. What Jack had said in his friendly fashion had doubtless cast quite a damper on certain bright dreams in which he had been indulging. However, he finally decided to take himself off, evidently eager to know whether the laugh was on him or not, for he called out:

“Goodbye, Jack, Perk; and be sure to look me up when next you drop in at Candler Field Airport; like as not I’ll still be on my old job here, unless they decide to transfer me somewhere else. And say, Jack, I’m meaning to take your advice, and get an opinion on this here stuff ’fore I try to pass it out on any old duffer. So-long boys and luck!”

When the two comrades, adventure bound, found themselves alone they looked at each other in silence for almost a full minute, when a grin started to travel over Perk’s well bronzed face.

“Say, wouldn’t it jar you though, to have such luck knock at your door, and then give you a sly kick?” he demanded of his companion.

“To tell the honest truth, Perk, I’m not thinking about Scotty and his queer windfall; it’s our own great good luck that’s making me suspect we’re bound to carry this job through with flying colors.”

“Eh? now what d’ye mean by saying that?” asked the other hastily.

“Right in the beginning, Perk, we seem to have stumbled on a nice little plum in the shape of a clue – flung directly at our heads, you might say in the bargain.”

“Glory be! do you mean to tell me those bogus notes were off the same plates we’ve been hearing so much about lately that I’ve been dreamin’ I was tied hand an’ foot, an’ poked under a dozen bales of them?”

“Just that, as sure as you live, partner,” said Jack, composedly; but if he could take it so coolly, not so his right bower who showed signs of extreme excitement and satisfaction, for he thrust out his hand, that had so often been an object of vast respect on the part of some welter weight boxer, and insisted that Jack accept a gentle shake.

“We’re sure Fortune’s favorites,” Perk was saying, striking an attitude as he thus proudly spoke; “an’ with such luck hoverin’ over our heads I vow all the Lower Regions with its devils can’t prevail against us. But see here, old hoss, there’s more than chance in this break o’ the party who broke through Scotty’s door, and panned all his traps – I guess now he must have missed a cylinder, an’ jest passed us by in a ground loop.”

Jack was accustomed to the other’s quaint way of expressing himself, for he lost no time in adding:

“About that way, I take it, Perk. And if what we suspect turns out to be true, it stands to reason there’s some sort of big combine back of it all.”

“With this same Slippery Slim Garrabrant pulling the wires for the whole bunch, is that what you mean, Jack?” demanded the other flyer quickly; for when once set on the right track Perk’s mind could travel speedily enough.

“It’s certainly his brain that’s built up this wide flim-flam trade in the make believe green stuff that’s been fooling a whole lot of bank tellers, it’s so near the genuine article. To smash the combine we’ve got to check up on Slim; after he’s caged the entire arrangement’s bound to fall through.”

“I get you, partner; and them’s my sentiments every time,” admitted the eager Perk. “And here, when we’re starting out to pull off our fresh stunt, I’m wishing all the luck that’s going to our little game. Meaning to give her a last checking over, eh, Jack?”

“It’s a habit of mine, as you know, Perk; and you might amuse yourself stowing the cargo we’ve taken aboard, so’s to let us have room for our feet when we take off. From the looks of the junk you picked up anybody’d reckon we planned to go into camp for a week or two.”

“Well, mebbe that’s what’ll happen to us before we strike pay dirt in this ticklish job,” asserted Perk, stoutly. “You know we figgered things out, and made up our minds this same slick article of a Slim might have his hangout over the line in Old Mexico, where he prints his bad bills, and then comes across the line with a big bunch in his ship, so’s to scatter the stuff around to his agents in Texas and Arizona, or it might be all through Southern California. If that guess turns out to be a bullseye we might be away off the line of travel for days at a stretch, and a grub stake’d turn the trick okay, I’m thinking, boss.”

Jack made no reply, for he was already busily engaged in looking over his crate. This was, as he had mentioned, an old habit, contracted in the early days of his career as an aviator of sorts; and most likely such extreme caution had saved his life more than once.

As he too worked close by, Perk was thinking more or less about something that had caught his ever watchful eye just before they entered the hangar to make these last preparations for their southern flight. As usual he was unable to keep his speculations entirely to himself, since he always liked to compare notes, and find out whether his companion’s views coincided with his own.

“Say, Jack, did you happen to notice that Ryan ship they’d just taken out of the shed before ours?” he demanded, while still lifting packages of various supplies, and stowing them away in a shipshape fashion; so they would not be likely to shift, and thus imperil the safety of himself and comrade, should they chance to encounter rough weather later on.

“Not particularly,” came the answer. “I was too busy over my own affairs to bother with anything that didn’t concern me in the least. What of it, Perk?”

“Nothing much, old hoss, only it was a next to new bus, and hadn’t been flown more’n a few thousand air miles, I’d guess. Couple of fellers seemed to be the crew, one of ’em lookin’ like he might be a pilot; and the other a chap that was out to have a jolly good time sportin’ for sport. I saw him handlin’ some sort of gun, which made me guess he was down South for the shootin’ season – mebbe after bear in the Louisiana canebrakes.”

Jack laughed as if amused, for he had noted the way in which the other made this stab at what might be the designs of the unknown parties.

“Feel a bit envious I take it, Perk,” he observed, laconically. “Always did yearn for the day to come when you’d have a ship of your own, and could spend all your spare time jumping about the country, enjoying yourself with rod and gun. Cheer up, old sport, you may live to see that day yet, if things break right for us in a few big games like this one we’re running down.”

“Thanks for your good luck wishes, Jack,” the other was saying; “I c’n just picture the bully times that pair’ll like enough have sitting by their camp-fire, living on game they’ve knocked over, and not caring a darn whether school keeps or not. Oh! well, if I live long enough mebbe I may have a whiff of that kind of life before I kick off for keeps; they say everything comes to the man who waits, and that’s me. There, that finishes my job, with everything stowed away as slick as you please. When you’re ready, Jack, we’ll be on our way.”