I
WAITING FOR ORDERS

“Hot ziggetty dog! I kinder guess now Jack, we’ve been an’ put the new cloud-chaser through every trick we’ve got up our sleeves – flopped her over on her back, righted her, to turn turtle again, done nose-dives an’ Immelmann turns, made a shivery sixteen thousand foot ceilin’ for altitude – an’ now, after all this circus stunt business, we figger she’s a real ship, queen o’ the air-ways.”

“Perk, you never said truer words and I’m sure proud of the fact that our Big Boss up at Washington appreciated that little Florida job we put through last winter, so’s to put us in charge of such a swell air craft.”

“Ginger pop! we used to reckon our old crate some punkins at speedin’, when real flyin’ was needed but shucks! with this cracker-jack boat we could make all kinds o’ rings ’round the old bus or else my name ain’t Gabe Perkiser.”

The young leather clad pilot at the controls, as if to still further emphasize his good opinion of the spanking, up-to-date plane they had for some days been joyfully testing out, volplaned down on a long coast just as though a merciless enemy craft were on their tail with a babbling machine-gun keeping up an intermittent fire and a hail of bullets filling the air around them.

Then he leveled off, attained a dizzy speed, turned, banked, and came roaring back to execute a dazzling monster figure-eight sweep.

“Great stuff, old hoss!” cried the exultant Perk for they had their earphones adjusted so as to be able to exchange comments at will, despite any racket caused by the madly racing motor and spinning propeller combined.

“I reckon that will be enough juice used up for today,” Jack Ralston was saying in a thoroughly satisfied tone, “and now we’d better make a bee-line for our landing field. It’ll be the same old story, – a gang gathering around to admire our new boat – and all trying to find out just who we are and what big air company we’re connected with.”

Thereupon Perk chuckled in a queer way he had, evidently vastly amused.

“We got ’em right goofy with guessin’, partner, for a fact. How the curious minded boobs do try to squeeze a few grains o’ information out of us with their foxy questions. I’ve heard some wise-cracks along them lines silly enough to make a hoss laugh an’ all o’ the remarks ain’t jest as complimentary as I’d like, not by a long shot.”

“Little we care,” remarked Jack, adjusting his goggles to a more satisfactory angle and releasing the ear flaps of his helmet. They had left the frigid altitude where they had climbed almost as though shot upward by some monster cannon, thanks to the novel wings with which the new ship was equipped.

“Huh! let ’em try to outsmart us,” Perk went on to say, a bit scornfully. “We c’n jest keep our lips buttoned tight an’ mind our own business. Won’t be long, anyway, I guess, till we hear from Headquarters an’ have to jump off on some fresh stunt, roundin’ up the slick crooks who keep puttin’ their thumbs on their noses an’ wigglin’ their fingers at Uncle Sam’s Secret Service boys – counterfeiters, smugglers, aliens crossing the borders, booze from out on the high seas, makers o’ moonshine in the mountings and on the burnin’ deserts like Death Valley an’ such riffraff that scoffs at the law!”

Perk, as he was generally called by his friends, was really a World War veteran, having served aboard a “sausage” observation balloon and later on as a fighting pilot of more than average bravery and ability. He did his “daily dozen” through the whole desperate series of conflicts in the Argonne with a fair number of “flaming coffins” placed to his credit – enemy ships shot down on fire.

Since quitting the army after the Armistice put a stop to all hostilities, Perk had passed through quite a number of vocations that appealed to the unrest in his blood, demanding so strenuously a calling built upon more or less continual excitement.

He had been a barn-storming pilot, giving exhibitions of reckless parachute jumping from high altitudes and similar stunts at county fairs and other public gatherings and had also spent several years as a valued member of the Mounted Police up in the Canadian Northwest country. He finally was drafted into Uncle Sam’s Secret Service by reason of an official having met up with him when moose hunting in the trackless wilds of northern British Columbia.

When Jack Ralston, who himself had gained a little fame in the Secret Service on account of generally bringing in his man, was selected to pilot a speedy ship he picked Gabe Perkiser whom he had known for some time and whose companionable disposition as well as unquestioned courage made him an ideal pal – in Jack’s eyes at least.

Their first assignment called for service carrying the flyers over the Mexican border to apprehend a notorious character who had long been a thorn in the flesh of the Washington authorities, since he came and went, mostly via the air route, crashing Uncle Sam’s frontier gate with cargoes of undesirable aliens, usually Chinese, willing to pay as much as a thousand dollars per head for an opportunity to enter the States, forbidden ground to those of their race.¹

Having, despite all difficulties, carried out their instructions to the letter and handed over their man to the nearest U. S. District Attorney for prosecution, Jack and Perk were later on dispatched with their efficient plane to the Gulf Coast of Florida, there to break up a powerful combination of smugglers through whose bold and lawless ventures, by air and sea, the whole Southern country was being submerged in a flood of foreign brands of liquor.

Again the two pals proved their calibre and brought home the bacon, having dealt the rum-runners a severe jolt and actually kidnaped the chief offender.²

Now they were daily anticipating still another assignment which, for aught they knew might carry them to the Maine border or even to Alaska – all sectors of our wide country look alike to energetic Secret Service agents especially when they have magical wings with which to annihilate space and carry them through cloudland at a hundred miles and more an hour.

It looked very much as though their excellent record was being fully appreciated at Headquarters for there had come to them a wonderfully equipped new ship, carrying many lately discovered and new inventions calculated to lighten the labors of the man at the controls as well as to secure a degree of safety never before attained in any craft.

Jack was heading for the home port, quite satisfied with the finishing check-up of the amazing attributes of their new acquisition, and as for Perk, he could hardly contain himself, such was his enthusiasm in connection with their trying-out process.

“Beats anything that carries wings,” he vowed in his characteristic fashion, “and it’s bound to be a poor day for any guy who thinks he c’n get away from this race hoss o’ the skies. See how she snorts on her course will you, partner, and us agoin’ at mor’n a hundred an’ thirty right now! This is the life for me, an’ I wouldn’t care much if my legs got so cramped I couldn’t walk a mile – some birds are like that, I understand, buzzards f’r instance fairly wobble on the ground but able to put the kibosh on most other feathered folks when they take off in their clumsy way.”

Jack did not show much desire to keep up the conversation – the fact of the matter was he felt more or less tired after a long day in the clouds and much preferred to pay strict attention to the many dials on the black dashboard just in front, with which he was by degrees becoming familiar.

The afternoon was drawing near its close, with the sun drawing closer to the mountainous horizon off to the west. So after swinging on their way for half an hour they were able to glimpse their destination which was the Cheyenne, Wyoming, airport.

“Keep up your bluffing when we land Perk, remember,” warned Jack as he started to circle at a height of a thousand feet and could see a number of people running this way and that, undoubtedly in their endeavor to be close by when their landing gear struck the ground.

This wonderful new plane, and the mysterious pair of pals handling it had continued to excite the curiosity not only of pilots using the field, but aviation bugs who haunted the place as well. These folks were enthusiasts over the exploits of noted flyers, but not venturesome enough themselves to wish to become pilots, even though they were of the right calibre. However, they knew considerable about ships and their furniture so as to be able to appreciate anything exceedingly novel along those lines.

“Watch my smoke, partner,” said Perk complacently enough. “I’m not agoin’ to let any o’ that mob crab my game. Men in our class don’t go around doin’ their stuff in the open, like they was magicians throwin’ a fit. We got to know how to mix things a heap an’ pull the wool over the eyes o’ the crowd. So far as they need to know, we’re jest a couple o’ guys out for a lark an’ with shekels to burn.”

“That’s the ticket Perk, keep the racket going up to the time we pull out of Cheyenne no matter which way we climb. Well, here goes to knock our tail on the ground again then for a bite of supper at the Emporium and a look in at some show. I’m getting a bit tired of this inaction, to tell you the honest truth. I reckon both of us will be glad to get our next orders and cut loose with our nobby ship.”

“You said a mouthful buddy that time,” observed Perk as he raised his hands with the intention of removing the earphones since they were at the end of their afternoon check-up, delightfully happy because their plane had shown its exceedingly strong points.

Now they were circling for the last time and those below, discovering just about where they meant to land, had started on the run, apparently eager to be on hand in order to obtain a fresh close-up of the mysterious chums who had been hanging around the airport for such a length of time.

Never had a boat dropped down more lightly than did their craft – Jack could not help giving his mate a look of overpowering joy at the slight impact, which was returned in full measure by the proud Perk who anticipated wonderful things to come when they got going for fair up among the clouds or dodging through the canyons of the mighty Rockies, wherever the hand of Fate, and orders from Headquarters, took them.

So the landing was made and the wonder ship safely housed in the hangar they had hired which could be securely locked to keep curious minded or unscrupulous people from trying to get a line on its several novel features.

A short but serious-looking chap came up to have a few words with Jack – this was the party who had been hired especially to keep watch and ward over their highly prized aerial steed. Cal Stevens had been recommended as a man to be trusted and although he had no positive knowledge of their identity, he did know they were clean sportsmen and men of their word. Consequently Jack felt the precious ship given into their charge by the Government would be carefully guarded throughout each night.

They left the field with several figures trailing after them for the mystery hovering over their movements had piqued the curiosity of a number of men. All manner of queer stories, resting on insecure foundations, had been rumored so that people pointed them out in the street and some wise-acres even gained considerable notoriety by pretending to know it all, though under a pledge to keep their secret inviolate.

It became even necessary to resort to expedients in order to shake these snoopers as the indignant Perk called them and usually a vehicle of some sort offered them an easy way to beat out the clan. On this particular evening, however, a big car occupied by several men whom they did not remember having noticed before, kept after their own vehicle up to the very door of the modest house in which they had a room.

“I say it’s a danged shame,” stormed the angry Perk as the two of them started to strip and get into ordinary citizen’s clothing so they would not attract unpleasant attention while eating their supper and attending the movies later on – “that pesky car kept on our tail right up to the door an’ chances are it’s parked somewhere out there right now, awaitin’ for us to hike over to the Emporium restaurant. Riles me for fair, partner, an’ for two cents I’d like to stand them hoboes on their heads, on’y I guess that’d be fool’s play for me.”

“It certainly would, Perk,” his chum assured him as they dressed. “Men in the detective line never want to draw attention to themselves for once it’s known what calling they’re engaged in and a lot of their value to their employers is lost. That’s just why the detectives in big cities like New York wear masks when suspects are lined up each morning for inspection. You know that, of course, Perk, but I’m just reminding you because if you get all ‘het up’ you might say or do something that would spill the beans for us.”

“I’ll cool down right away, Jack old hoss,” the other assured him contritely. “That’s my greatest weakness you know, an’ I’m countin’ on my best pal to keep a finger on my pulse so’s to check me up when I threaten to run loose with my too ready tongue. Wait a minute, Jack, till I get a paper so I c’n read up on the dope as I munch my feed. I’m wanting to learn whether anything’s been heard from our mutual friend, Buddy Warner, the best air mail pilot on the job today.”

“I certainly hope he’s turned up since we jumped off this morning,” said Jack with more than his customary earnestness. “There must be a dozen or two ships scouring the country in search of Buddy.” This pilot had never reached his port of call two days back and is believed to be down somewhere in that wild country among the big hills and canyons, either dead or badly hurt and needing a helping hand right away.

Perk gave a hurried glance at the scare-heads on the front page of the newspaper he had purchased and then grunted dismally.

“Nothin’ doin’ so far, partner,” he announced with a sigh that welled up from the very depths of his warm, friendly heart. “More ships a’startin’ out from every-which-way. A happenin’ like this, when the lost guy chances to be a friendly dick that everybody likes, seems to arouse that sportsman spirit that you find in all air pilot circles. It gets to be a reg’lar fever, with even famous flyers givin’ up vacations they’d been lookin’ forward to for weeks, just to start out an’ try to locate the lost man. Huh! nothin’d tickle me more than a chance to lend a hand myself, on’y we’re in the Government’s employ and can no more quit our job than air mail lads could throw the letter sacks in the discard and sail around peekin’ into every gulch an’ hidin’ place in the mountains in hopes o’ bein’ the lucky guy to fetch Buddy back.”

“I’m mighty sorry nothing’s been found out,” said Jack, “but the boys are sure to comb every rod of ground again and again until it’s certain he can’t be located. But here’s our restaurant Perk, so let’s drop in and dine.”