VIIITHE TAKE-OFF
Jack was sorry that, owing to their pulling out so soon, he would not be able to visit the hospital again as he had planned and upon mentioning this fact to his companion, Perk shrugged his shoulders as he said:
“That’s a downright shame, I’d say, partner, fact is, I depended on you to find out what Adrian’s last name was—save me a wheen o’ worriment if on’y I knowed it—somethin’ that rhymed with Barnum—Bernard—Burling—Berwind—hang the luck, jestwhydoes this ol’ short memory for names bob up to bother a feller when we’re startin’ off on a big spin an’ may never see thet lady an’ little Adrian again? Seems I’m jest goin’ to speak the right word, an’ then, shucks! it misses connection like, an’ leaves me a gropin’ in the dark.”
Jack, being accustomed to his pal’s queer ways, did not take much notice of the new cause for worry that had gripped the stubborn one. He felt pretty certain he would see Perk sitting many times with a brooding expression on his face and counting his fingers while checking off each and every name he could conjure up that sounded like Barnum, etc., to finally heave a tremendous sigh, shake his head and apparently try to get the troublesome puzzle out of his mind.
It was all very sad but then one usually has to pay some sort of penalty because of having a poor memory for names.
As for Jack, he gave the subject little thought partly because he had matters of much greater moment to take up his attention. Indeed, he would have been considerably surprised could he have suspected how that name for which Perk was grappling just through his stubbornness, would play quite an important part in those adventures which they were destined to run up against on the other side of the Canadian border.
“Now let’s forget everything that happened last night,” he told his chum seriously, “and stick to our business which is connected with the bringing in of that fierce go-getter and all-round bad egg who slipped out of jail so mysteriously that the wardens are floundering in a bog up to this day. All of which proves he’s no easy mark and that we’ll have to be on our toes if we expect to cage our bird.”
They were so well prepared for the sudden emergency call that little remained to be done. The crate was serviced and could cover fully fifteen hundred miles as the crow flies with the gas they had aboard. Then, too, as they figured on stopping over in Spokane possibly a day or so, there would be ample opportunity to refill their aluminum tanks to the limit as well as lay in such other necessities as occurred to them.
“We’ve got to remember,” remarked cautious Jack as they were heading for the flying field before two that afternoon, “that once we start across the line, we’ll have few chances to fill up with gas. They may happen to have some gas at the post, or perhaps the Mounties could supply us because in these days of much flying it would be possible for a ship to drop down near by and be in need of fuel so badly the pilot would pay a big price to be supplied but I don’t mean to bank on such a happening.”
“Huh! mebbe things have changed some since I served with the Mounties,” Perk went on to say; “for there wasn’t such a thing as a gallon o’ gas within fifty or a hundred miles o’ the post at that time. Folks are gettin’ air-minded ev’rywhere you go today an’ it wouldn’t surprise me to find they’ve got some sort o’ a landin’ place close at hand. Ain’t staggered at anything nowadays, buddy.”
They lost no time in reaching the field and as it was a pleasant day they found it an animated scene, with crates coming and going, visitors as well as those connected with the field in some capacity helping to make up a crowd with scores of spectators as a backing, rushing from one point to another.
This thing was such an old story for both flyers they paid little attention to the bustle that was going on but made straight for the hangar where their ship was quartered.
Jack had kept his word and a man could be seen standing or moving about near the squatty building. This was a guard in his employ, engaged by the day, for an indefinite time. It might be a week or a day, depending on the whim of the young and ardent sportsman, whom it was believed meant to hunt big game somewhere within five hundred miles of Salt Lake City.
“Listen Perk,” said Jack as they approached the hangar, “it might be just as well for neither of us to say a word about making a quick run of it until about to pull out when I’ll pay our man double wages. After what happened here last night anything might come along to upset our calculations.”
“I’m on Jack—seems like you never do know what’s what these days. Any more light on who did that dirty, sneaky job last night, eh what?”
“Nothing positive but I’m still of the opinion it must’ve been meant for us,” replied Jack. “Everything points that way for we happened to change our hangar with hardly anybody knowing about it. Then again I understood Mr. Gibbons dropped in along about nine and never a soul to meet him and his pilot save the customary field hands. But then there’s no use crying over spilled milk—what’s done can’t be changed and it serves to warn us never to trust to just mixing up our names. We’ve got to believe there are just as smart wideawake chaps up against us as we ever claim to be. That’ll be enough on the subject Perk, so let’s forget it.”
“Anyway, luck’s all in our favor, seems like,” was the consolation Perk offered himself, at the same time relapsing into silence.
As quietly as possible, just as if they meant to take an ordinary spin, they got their bus out of the hangar. Jack had paid the rental for it in advance, so there was nothing to worry them from that quarter, which was just as well for things somehow manage to fly around among the employees and pilots connected with a base port and the news would soon become common property that the young millionaire sportsman and his pilot were at last on their way to some chosen hunting ground in search of big game like moose, grizzly bears or possibly Rocky Mountain big-horn sheep.
As usual Jack gave the ship the once over, to make doubly certain nothing had been neglected. So far as he was able to tell it was in apple-pie condition and so well stocked that they could count on a two thousand mile flight unless baffled by storm or dense fog banks.
The guard was given double pay and told that his services would not be needed any further, since a sudden wire had changed their plans somewhat and they were pulling out for good. If he evinced any particular curiosity concerning the goal they had in view, never a word spoken by either of the flyers put him any the wiser. Not that Jack suspected he might be in touch with some mysterious but vindictive enemy, but just kept mum on general principles.
“All ready, partner!” sang out Perk in his usual happy fashion for it always pleased him beyond measure to be making a start on some new air voyage and from what Jack had told him, Spokane was going to be only a way station, with the vast unknown Northwest Territory beckoning them on to fresh activities and mayhap thrilling adventures to follow. No wonder the chap whose nerves were always set for action felt joyful when the moment came to pull the gun and swing off.
One last look around and aloft so as to stamp his approval on the conditions with which they were to be confronted, and Jack made the momentous start. The wonderful up-to-date amphibian began to move down the slight decline with constantly augmented speed until, having reached the desired maximum the pilot lifted his craft and away they soared.
Perk took a last backward look at the field that had become fairly familiar to them by this time. There was a grin upon his freckled face that told of the pleasure he felt at such an auspicious moment. A ship was just coming into port, settling down for the last glide—just as a duck might set its wings, and throw its webbed feet forward on nearing the surface of a lagoon on which it intended to alight.
Perk rather imagined it was a belated air-mail boat, delayed by some accident like a forced landing or unusual weather conditions. No matter, he waved a hand gaily in salute to the homecoming air-man and felt no ill humor because there was no return wave, since the one whose hand was at the stick must needs give his full attention to his work, or risk a crash.
So they departed from the friendly Salt Lake City airport, with a far distant goal in view.