Trackers of the Fog Pack; Or, Jack Ralston Flying Blind. Newcomb Ambrose

gettin’ into his car, an’ the coast’s clear.”

      Jack stepped into the other room to say goodbye to the old lady – for she did seem to be of a higher class than one would think from the humble cottage she called home – truth to tell Jack wished to have another look at that bright-faced little lad, whom he was apt to remember for a long time.

      The boy had come-to, and shook hands at Jack’s request, also gave him a sweet smile.

      “If he owes either of us any thanks,” Jack told Granny, as he turned to leave, “it should go to my chum; who chanced to have a gun in his pocket, having had it cleaned and repaired at a shop here – he threw himself between the ugly dog and the child, and shot the mad brute dead. The lad wasn’t touched, I assure you, madam.”

      “Thank him for me a thousand times, please, young man – it was a brave act, and his mother surely has cause to be grateful for having such a son. Come and see us sometime later on; both of us will be very glad to have you drop in.”

      Jack hurried out, with a strange thought racing through his brain; he could not help wondering what that fine elderly woman would think if only she knew how the two young men thus befriending her grandson (who must have been so precious to her heart) had been the chief instrument in shape of the outraged Law to run down and send her son-in-law Slim Garrabarnt, up to the penitentiary for a long term of years, as a much wanted criminal.

      It was hardly a pleasant thought, but nothing to be ashamed of, since he merely represented the Government in all he had done, and could not be blamed any more than the judge who dealt out the grim sentence.

      Perk was eager to be gone, and led the way outside. They pushed a passage through the still jabbering crowd, and walked off, followed by admiring looks from those gathered there.

      On the way back to the city Perk seemed to be wrapped in his own thoughts much of the time, which was such an unusual occurrence that Jack marveled to take note of his silence.

      “Still o’ the opinion the kid might be his’n?” Perk asked his companion, as they finally drew near the location of the building in which they had a furnished room.

      “Feel pretty sure of it,” he was told, without the slightest hesitation. “I explained to the old lady that it was you who kept the dog from contact with the child, and she asked me to thank you with all her heart.”

      “Shucks! why did yeou ever mention sech a thing, Pal Jack? ’Twan’t nawthin’ ’tall – jest a soft snap for a chap what was yearnin’ for action. But it gives me a queer thrill to know heow we run up agin his folks – ’bout a hundred-an’-thirty million people in this here country, an’ to think we’d pick ’em aout o’ all that mob – it sure has got me buffaloed for keeps.”

      As Jack opened the locked door of their room he stooped to pick up some object that had been thrust underneath. Perk saw it was a letter, with a special delivery stamp on the same. Somehow its coming gave him a sudden thrill around the region of his heart, as though he could sense important news in the offing – apparently this was destined to be a red-letter day in their experiences, with a decided break in the long release from active duty.

      CHAPTER IV

      By Special Delivery

      Somewhat to the disappointment of Perk his comrade did not evince any haste about opening his letter, thrusting the same into his pocket, while he washed his hands, and brushed his hair.

      “Somehow I seem to be as hungry as a wolf,” Jack remarked; “and as it’s long past our usual time for lunch I move we drop around to our beanery, and lay in some stores in the way of chow.”

      Of course such a proposition appealed strongly to Perk, who was seldom able to resist a call to meals. For the moment he quite forgot his recent curiosity to know what was in the letter, the receipt of which had caused Jack to smile; and which moreover had certain familiar marks about it to make Perk feel certain it came from Headquarters.

      “Queer heow a feller c’n nigh ’bout forget certain stirrin’ events in his past,” he observed with a shake of his head; “an’ suddenly have the same bob up in his mind, as clear as if they might a happened on’y yesterday.”

      “I reckon you’re referring to our old friend, Cool Slim Garrabrant, eh, Perk?” queried the other, indifferently.

      “None other,” came the reply. “There was a man as might be called the king o’ the counterfeiters, who’d had his thumb to his nose ever so long, alaughin’ at Uncle Sam’s slick boys, an’ sendin’ ’em all sorts o’ tauntin’ notes; so in the end the Chief he come down off’n his high perch, an’ gave us a chanct to knock down the persimmons with a long pole; which we done as neat as any body’d choose.”

      “Bad taste to boast, Perk, you want to remember.”

      “Can’t help sayin’ a few things, Jack, an’ pattin’ us two flyin’ cops on the chest. Honest, I got an idea Slim’s sun had begun to set jest as soon as the job o’ runnin’ him in was placed in aour hands. Nobody but them as knew haow to handle an airship could a fetched home the bacon in that case; ’cause Slim he knowed how to get his long-green stuff clear withaout leavin’ any trace, usin’ that ole crate to carry the coney supplies east an’ west o’ his hidin’ place, where he carried on the work along a big scale.”

      “Of course what you say is all true enough,” ventured Jack as they walked along, heading for the nearest eatingplace, which they sometimes patronized when close by; “but both of us would do well to try and forget our share in that haul – it’s old stuff by now. And besides,” continued Jack, “somehow I feel bad when I remember that it was probably that little kid’s own daddy we sent up.”

      “Yeah!” mused Perk, unwilling to change the subject, it appeared, “an’ the judge socked it to Slim good an’ heavy – give him a long sentence, so ’at he’ll have to serve behind the walls o’ that Atlanta pen ’til he’s an old, broken-down man, an’ not marked dangerous to law-abidin’ folks.”

      “There are a few others of his stripe yet outside prison walls, remember, partner,” Jack told him, as they entered the eatingplace, walking over to a table somewhat aloof from all others, and on this account usually chosen for such meals as they took there; as they sometimes discussed their secret work while eating it was policy to keep clear from other diners, and at the same time lower their voices, since walls may have ears, and even hide dictaphones that record every spoken word.

      “Yeou never said truer words, ole top,” Perk agreed in his odd fashion. “Scofflaws aplenty to keep our crowd busy for years ahead. Say, d’ye know I been readin’ a heap ’bout a smart guy they say calls hisself King Cole – seems like he got a hole in the wall ’way out in the wildest part o’ the Rockies, an’ jest laughs at the boys from Washington to size him up.”

      “I recollect you talking of him more than a few times, Perk; from which fact I had a hunch you might be wishing the Chief’d turn over the assignment for apprehending him to our hands – is that correct, partner?”

      “Don’t care if I do have to acknowledge the corn, matey; someheow that dickey grabbed a stiff hold on my thinkin’ box – why, onct I even dreamed we’d cornered him with his gay crowd, an’ was commencin’ to exchange shots with the bunch, when I woke up, an’ felt too cheap for anything to know it was on’y hot air.”

      Jack laughed as he seated himself.

      “I remember how furious you were, and saying it was a shame to be cheated that way, eh, Perk?”

      They gave their orders, and were presently partaking of what the waiter set before them; afterwards retiring, as though already knowing they would call should they require further service. This afforded Perk another opportunity to “use his tongue,” a vocation that gave him the utmost enjoyment.

      “Jest occurred to me them paper accounts sez as haow his bees’-nest was located in a stretch ’tween two o’ the highest mountain ranges in the hull country o’ the Rockies – called the secret settlement Happy Valley; which I opine sounds a right