Flying the Coast Skyways. Jack Ralston's Swift Patrol. Newcomb Ambrose

of fruit trees, pecan groves, even sugarcane patches – all these signs of the Southland he kept seeing as the miles flew past.

      “I kinder – er-reckons as haow we’ve done shot past the dividin’ line ’tween Alabam ’nd Georgia, boss,” he presently announced, with a grand air of superior knowledge; “case I jest seen a town squatted on a river, an’ painted on the roof o’ a house was a name, fo’ the benefit o’ fliers like weuns – Tallapoosa she read, which tells me that must a been the river Tallapoosa – all bein’ ’cross the line in Harlson County, Georgia, (’cordin’ to my map here.) If that’s correct we right naow ain’t more’n fifty miles from aour goal – less’n half an hour yet to fly.”

      “You are hot on the trail, comrade,” Jack assured him. “Keep your eyes skinned to pick up another smoke cloud dead ahead, which will be the first sign of our nearing Atlanta, the New York City of the South.”

      Perk continued to watch and wait, until finally he gave a half suppressed whoop, to add exultantly:

      “It’s a big smoke smudge, all right, buddy; so we’re rushing daown on aour goal like a river afire; which pleases a feller called Wally okay, yeou bet!”

      CHAPTER II

      The Cipher Letter

      Jack did not seem to be at all surprised when his best pal made this abrupt announcement; but then he always kept himself prepared for coming events.

      “I was expecting to hear you say that, buddy;” he told his mate; “for the past fifty miles on, our string up to date had about run through. I reckon we’ll be on foot before many more minutes. Get the airport yet – Wally?”

      “Sure do, and right naow I kin glimpse a big – looks like our Fokker, agoin’ to drop daown.”

      “Yes, possibly belongs to either of the latest lines using Candler Field for a base – Eastern Air Transport, for passengers and mail; and Southern Air Fast Express – covering the route between Los Angeles and Atlanta – both now-a-days carrying capacity loads, the papers have been saying.”

      “Shucks! takes yeou to git things daown pat, Big Boss,” Perk went on to comment. “Where do we go from here, Mister?”

      “After we’ve made arrangements for housing our crate,” explained Jack, good-naturedly – although he had told his chum the same thing at least twice before the present occasion – Perk could be so forgetful, he remembered – “we’ll make straight for the Henry Grady Hotel, where we’ll find a letter in code awaiting us, unless there’s been a nasty hitch in the arrangements.”

      “But – yeou said we had to meet up with some gent here, partner?”

      “That’s right, too, Wally; but only after I’ve decoded the letter from Headquarters, which is going to put us wise about the nature of our present big adventure. No great hurry to get moving on, as far as I know at present; so it might be we can hang around Atlanta a day or more. But both of us will have to play our parts, and fend off any too inquisitive newspaper men. I’ve learned that the Atlanta reporters are keen on picking up every scrap of aviation news possible, so’s to make up a story that will go well. We shun that sort of notoriety, don’t forget, brother, as the devil does holy water.”

      They were by this time circling Candler Field, which seemed to be bustling with feverish activity – planes of various types were either landing, or else starting up; while several could now be seen cruising at sublime heights, either being put through their paces by pilots, or what was more likely carrying excursionists in the shape of “sandbags,” greenhorn air holiday makers, out to get an experience that would give them a superior advantage over friends who had never as yet gone aloft.

      Jack made an exceptionally clever landing, and then turned over the stick to his mate, as if eager to make it appear that Perk was the real article when it came to being the head pilot of the multi-motored cabin Fokker, that had not the least sign of a name, nor yet a number to identify it.

      A number of men came running toward the rather retired spot where Jack had purposely come down. Leading them was a little whipper-snapper specimen, in a rather loud checkered suit, who gave all the recognized signs of being a hustling, live-wire newspaper man, always on the scent for some unusual happening such as could be turned into a thrilling story, – such keen investigators are to be found at nearly every airport worth while, eager to satisfy the curiosity of the multitude of readers who are developing air mindedness at a rapid rate.

      “Greetings gents;” he started in to say, with a cheerful grin on his sharp features, and holding a pencil in one hand while he had a pad of blank paper all ready in the other. “If you would kindly give me a few facts connected with your identity, where you jumped off, whither bound, and so forth the many readers of my paper would be glad to extend to you a warm welcome to the Gate City of the South.”

      Jack gravely shook hands with the diligent worker, and obligingly fed him a little cock-and-bull story, giving the names he and Perk had recently taken upon themselves, and merely stating they were from Texas, bound to Atlanta on private business connected with aviation circles. He did this to quiet the news gatherer, until they could dispose of their ship, and get started for the hotel in a taxi to be hired near by.

      Jack knew the breed to a dot, and felt confident the lively chap would fill in enough imaginary details to make an interesting account; so that was that, and he was at liberty to turn to the one in authority with whom arrangements could be made for parking the big Fokker in a convenient hangar at so much per diem.

      Of course wise Jack had seen to it that never the slightest clue could be discovered by the shrewdest spy, to indicate what these air travelers really had in view – he was quite willing that such a sneaky investigator examine the ship from one end to the other, and welcome – the gravest danger of discovery would lie in some indiscreet remark on the part of Perk; but even this did not give Jack any considerable worry.

      They were soon on their way into the heart of wide-awake, bustling Atlanta, and presently brought up at the noted hostelry, to which they had been directed to proceed.

      Jack, after dismissing the taxi, followed the hotel attendant who had seized upon the two bags they had with them. He registered without ostentation; and no sooner had the clerk taken a look at their names, when about to assign them a double room on the third floor, than he remarked casually:

      “A letter waiting for you, Mr. Warrington,” and after shuffling a pack of envelopes swiftly, he handed Jack a registered letter, bearing the Washington postmark across the stamps.

      Jack carefully deposited the same in an inner pocket; then a minute later they both followed a bellboy into the elevator and ascended.

      When finally they found themselves behind a closed door Perk turned an eager face upon his comrade, as he remarked in a low tone, with a nervous look all around, as though half expecting to discover some eavesdropper peeping out from a closet, or from behind an easy-chair:

      “She kim okay, seems like, Ja – er Mr. Warrington – then things they’re keepin’ on the move, an’ we’re a step closer to aour field o’ operations than when we started aout, eh, what, suh?”

      “Lock the door, brother – I’m going to get busy decoding this letter, after which you’ll know everything. Now settle down in that chair, and give me ten minutes of time for the job – possibly a bit more, since I see it’s rather a long communication.”

      Perk followed these directions out, and continued to watch the other as a terrier might hover over a hole in the kitchen wall, from which he expected a rat to thrust out his nose at any second.

      Jack took a little more time than he had reckoned on; but, being expert at reading the secret cipher code adopted by the Government, in the end he had mastered the entire contents of the letter of instructions.

      “Pull over this way a little, partner,” he told the feverishly waiting Perk. “I want to lower my voice while explaining what it’s all about; and we just can’t be too careful, since walls sometimes have ears especially in this day of the hidden dictograph. To begin with,” he went on to add, “we seem