Eagles of the Sky: or, With Jack Ralston Along the Air Lanes. Newcomb Ambrose

told in a confident tone that effectually calmed his rising alarm.

      He hastened to settle down in a position where he could thrust his glasses between interstices in the green covering of the fusilage and wings so as to keep close tabs on the advancing plane without making any particular movement of arms or body.

      “How?” asked Jack, a few seconds later, when he fancied his mate must have made up his mind as to the identity of the flying ship.

      “Curtiss-Robin crate, that’s right, Jack an’ the same we saw before,” replied the observer, excitedly. “Hey! guess now they got a glass up there too. I sure saw the sun shinin’ on somethin’ bright, ’cause the old boy’s still on deck to chaps that high up.”

      “I’ve discounted that fact long ago, Perk; men engaged in the desperate game they’re playing night after night would need such a useful instrument, so’s to keep a sharp lookout for Coast Guard boats or bunches of revenue men lying in ambush close to the place they expected to land a wet cargo, or a couple of high-pay Chinks, it might be.”

      “Then you got an idea they must have a spy up in Washington–a sneaker who c’n find out what’s bein’ hatched up so’s to cook their goose an’ that he manages to get warnin’ down here to the workin’ crews so’s to put ’em on their guard–is that it, partner?”

      “Looks that way–that’s all I can say, Perk. Now lie low and don’t do any talking, though with their crate kicking up all that row I reckon there’d be small chance of their hearing us even if we shouted.”

      Perk was chuckling to himself at a great rate and could not keep from taking advantage of the invitation Jack had really extended to say:

      “Yeah! an’ I kinder guess now we got one thing they ain’t, which is a silencer on our engine that’ll keep it muzzled, even if it does knock off a bit o’ our speed when we happen to use it. Luckiest thing ever you managed to get the Big Boss to send us such a bully contrivance that seems to work jest great. Listen to the racket they’re kickin’ up right now–enough to tell any chump ten miles off a crate’s headin’ his way. Jerusalem crickets! but ain’t I glad we’re fixed as we are.”

      The ship far up in the heavens was almost directly over them by this time and Perk relapsed into silence, being vastly interested in watching it passing over.

      Possibly he had his eyes glued on the figures–there were two occupants in the Robin’s cabin he could easily see–leaning over and doubtless closely scrutinizing the intricacies of the ragged shoreline below, hoping to make important discoveries.

      If the leading figure, piloting the craft, was actually Oscar Gleeb, onetime noted Hun ace over in the Argonne, it might be Perk, with his past war history rising up to thrill him afresh, may have found himself half expecting to hear a terrific explosion close by on the shore as the German flier let drop some sort of bomb, with the idea of striking their concealed bus which his keen eyes might have detected despite their wonderful camouflage.

      But nothing like that came to pass and the cruising ship kept moving in a northerly direction, growing less distinct as miles were being covered at the fast clip it swept along.

      “Cripes! that was worth somthin’ to glimpse, bet your sweet life, partner,” Perk finally observed as he ventured to make a little movement, feeling dreadfully cramped and the danger of discovery growing momentarily less as the first shades of coming evening began to gather around the secluded cove. “Jest as like as not they started away down toward the tip o’ the mainland, an’ hev been examinin’ every mile o’ the coast, bent on doin’ a clean job while they’re at it. An’ if they meet up with no luck mebbe now they’ll make up their minds it was only a false alarm, and let her go at that.”

      Presently they could no longer glimpse the faintest sign of the scout plane–when last seen it was still heading up the coast as though making for some destination where action awaited the members of its daring crew.

      “The passing of that crate settles one thing, anyway,” observed Jack presently.

      “As what, partner?” queried Perk, who had already begun to denude the anchored amphibian of its covering, as though it was settled they need no longer fear being spied upon from above.

      “We needn’t bother striking into the south when starting out to look for suspicious lights, such as would tell of business being put through–those boys are right now heading for their rendezvous and it’s our game to chase after them, as soon as nightfall makes it safe to get a move on.”

      “That suits me fine, Jack old hoss. I’m right sick o’ keepin’ our nose stuck so close to the ground–me for the high places where I c’n get my lungs filled with clean air–this swamp stuff don’t make no sort o’ hit with me, I’m tellin’ you. Gosh! looky at that bunch o’ measly big pelicans flappin’ their wings as they fly close to the water, headin’ to some island where they have a rookery, like as not. An’ Jack, honest to goodness if I didn’t see the head an’ knobby eyes o’ a monster scaly ’gator stickin’ up out o’ the water in the lagoon jest now. Got me goofy, this sorter thing, an’ I’m asighin’ for the air lanes two miles high.”

      “I understand just how you feel, Perk, but hold your horses a bit. Hurry is something we’ve got to fight shy of in this game of hide-and-seek with these dangerous smugglers of the gulf coast. As smart a group of men as we can ever claim to be, have bucked up against the gang and dropped out of the chase–more than a few of whom have disappeared mysteriously, and up at Headquarters it’s believed they’ve met with foul play. This big Mex gulf hides a heap of secrets and has ever since old Blackbeard and that crowd of buccaneers used to sink Spanish galleons after looting them of their gold cargo and sending hundreds of poor wretches to a watery grave.”

      “I’m wise to all them facts, partner,” piped up Perk, grinning amiably, “an’ I sure don’t hanker after bein’ sent down to that port o’ missin’ men in no hurry. I’ll stick it out on this line jest as long as you say an’ try to keep from grumblin’. Thar goes the last o’ the rotten stuff overboard, Boss, an’ we’re all clear again. While we’re a’waitin’ till the last speck o’ daylight slickers away, wouldn’t it be right smart if we set our teeth in some o’ that fine grub I laid in, to keep us from starvin’ to death?”

      “Suits me okay, buddy; suppose you trot it out and we’ll pas the time away bolstering up our strength–no telling what we may have before us tonight if we happen to strike rich pay-dirt.”

      Accordingly they busied themselves with what to Perk especially was a most agreeable occupation, for it must be confessed that the Maine lad possessed a fairly good appetite while his capacity for storing away good things was something close to marvelous.

      So the night settled down around them–sounds indicative of a Florida coast camping ground began to make themselves manifest–mullet jumped up out of the brackish water where some stream emptied its tide straight from the Everglades into the gulf, to fall back again with resounding splashes. Now and then there was a rush, and a great deal of agitation of the water close to one of the mangrove islands, showing where some fierce piratical deep water fish was making an evening meal of the unlucky mullet–several wild ducks came spinning along from other shore places to settle further in where the reedy islands offered effectual shelter from night-raiding owls and hawks that could see in the dark.

      “Gee whiz!” Perk was saying as he finished eating and started to put away what sandwiches and other stuff had been left over, “this sure must be a dandy place to do some shore shootin’ an’ if I hadn’t other fish to fry I’d like to hang around a week’r so, takin’ toll o’ ducks, turkey, an’ deer up on the mainland, with like as not a bobcat, or even a panther in the bargain!”

      “All very fine for those who are down here sporting for sport, brother,” Jack told him, “but our bunch has another kind of game to pull in and you’ve got to forget all this temptation so as to buckle down to business. Reckon it’s time for us to be hopping-off and getting that taste of cool, clean air a mile or so up. Shake a leg, buddy, and we’ll shove off.”

      Jack, of course, had long since figured