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

felt it no disgrace to “sit at the feet” of his best pal, and imbibe information when the plan of campaign was being laid out – Perk freely admitted he was “not so good,” along such lines – ready to shift the responsibility to Jack’s shoulders, yet joyfully bear his share of all subsequent action.

      The papers were divided up, and both of them read steadily for some time, occasionally exchanging observations, with Perk asking frequent questions concerning matters that were not quite clear to his rather slow mind.

      In this fashion, just as wise Jack knew would be the case, both of them gradually got “heated up,” with the fervor of the case – indeed, this view of matters was also taken by his companion, since Perk declared it made him think of how they used to get a tracking hound to smell some garment worn by the child that was lost, so he could take the trail, and follow it to a successful finish.

      “Which I vum will be aour way o’ clappin’ hands on this slippery kiote, once we git agoin’ strong,” he went on to add, with supreme confidence, it appeared.

      “One thing we’ve got to remember,” Jack mentioned; “which is about keeping our light hidden under a bushel. Men who follow our dangerous profession must never get themselves in the public prints if it can be avoided; and as for standing up to be in the spotlight, so all people can take note of their looks, it just isn’t done, you know, Perk.”

      Possibly there may have been occasions in the past when, after they had been unusually successful in landing their man, Perk had shown a disposition to talk a bit too much – grant interviews to newspaper reporters, who were apt to go into details covering some of the ways such sleuths outwitted those whom they hunted; all of which was bad for their being successful in forthcoming missions of like character, since the lawbreakers would avidly seize upon all such printed matter, to size up the methods that were utilized in bringing about the downfall of men of their stamp.

      “Yeah, course that’s the right thing – we’ll jest keep aour own counsel an’ do the gittin’ o’ aour stuff together withaout beating the gong an’ ’tractin’ the mob’s attention. We wouldn’t live up to aour reputation as sleuth hounds if we didn’t work undercover, Jack.”

      “Fine for you, brother,” he was told; “I’m tickled pink to know you’re waking up to the necessity for Secret Service men keeping away from the glare of publicity, even if they have to lose much credit; like editors of the big newspapers, who never put even their initials to the strong articles they write everyday.”

      In this fashion did Jack usually apply himself to eradicating certain weaknesses that afflicted his best pal, knowing that in so doing he was helping Perk to become more efficient; also more valuable in the service of the Government.

      After some hours spent in this fashion, they found themselves pretty well inoculated with the most salient points connected with their latest task; and both of them were glad when it began to grow dark, with supper in prospect.

      “I rather think we’re pretty well fed up on this stuff,” Jack finally took occasion to remark, getting up from his easy-chair, and stretching his cramped legs; “so how about dropping it all, and going out to feed our complaining tummies?”

      “I aint got any objections to that ere business, buddy,” Perk quickly observed, following suit in leaving his seat, and going through certain motions such as office sitters carry out in accordance with radio instructions each and every morning, before going forth to the daily grind. “They c’n boast all they likes ’bout the belles o’ the ballroom; the sweet janglin’ o’ the bells in the Spanish Missions up ’long the Coast here, an’ even the never-to-be-forgotten schoolbell; but for me they aint nawthin’ to make my heart sing with joy like the good ole-fashioned dinnerbell.”

      “You’ve got plenty of company in that same worship, Perk,” the other told him, “A few people eat to live; but the biggest bunch live to eat. Let hard times come, and they’ll do without a good many things, but must have three meals a day – yes, and with men, their regular smoke as well.”

      After leaving their cozy room, to walk along the street, business was tabooed; they must forget such personal affairs, and talk of anything under the sun save what engrossed their minds chief of all.

      Jack had stressed this point when laying down that rule for their guidance, saying practically as follows:

      “We don’t understand as yet just what the ramifications or extent of this combination of lawbreakers is; for all we know they may be organized, and doing such a big business that they can employ spies in certain cities, to pick up valuable pointers; informing them of profitable strikes on Western trails, and along railroads where treasure is being daily carried east and west; besides that, these spies would be on the watch to learn of plans for bringing members of the gang to justice – for all we know they have been keeping tabs on our movements right along; and may be in possession of considerable knowledge covering our being the ones commissioned by Headquarters to proceed against them. On this account it is up to us to play the innocent, and when in a public eating place never talk shop, especially if the room is full, as is always the case here at suppertime.”

      There was always so much common sense in what Jack advanced that Perk could seldom grumble, no matter if he did not wholly agree with his partner. Besides, there were so many interesting matters, as given out in the daily prints, and along the line of aviation stunts, that they need never lack for material to carry on their careless chatter as they dined, and watched their neighbors, after the usual manner of detectives on or off duty, seeking to further add to their information as to the possible presence of eavesdroppers.

      CHAPTER VII

      Ready for Anything

      The following day was a busy one for the two pals. Each had a regular programme to follow, Jack having made out two lists of important things absolutely essential to the carrying out of their plans.

      As usually happened he left to Perk the task of seeing that the ship was fully supplied with all the fuel and oil she was capable of carrying off in making an ascent; some of which could be stored in the wings, purposely provided with stowage room for such occasions.

      Then when it came to taking aboard a stock of provisions, such as would not require cooking, trust Perk for having a complete understanding as to these requirements – he possessed such a vast knowledge of what was good for a hungry man, not in a position to start a campfire, that when he put the last of their stock away aboard the plane it looked as if they might be getting ready to explore the Arctic regions, where nothing but driftice was to be met, and no chance of having a fire either for cooking or comfort.

      Jack, meanwhile did his part, making carefully arranged plans, with alternate makeshifts such as could be taken up in case unsurmountable obstacles baffled them in the one chosen for the start – with Jack it was always part of his strategy to have several “strings to his bow,” and never if possible “put all his eggs in one basket.”

      When wearied after all the tramping he had done in accumulating such a vast pile of material, Perk dropped down into a chair alongside his chum – who was still doing the finishing touch to his programme – he heaved a sigh as of contentment – as a rule Perk was not a vigorous walker, preferring to go by airplane, motorcar, or bus; perhaps even by stage if necessary, so that such unusual exercise told heavily on his muscles.

      “Get through with your list, partner?” queried Jack, shoving aside his papers, as though he too had had quite enough of work for one day.

      “Sure did, matey,” came the satisfied reply; “we’re done loaded up to the limit, an’ then some. Hope the ole gal don’t fight shy o’ liftin’ sech a rummy cargo; but so far we aint never had her balk on us. How yeou gittin’ on with things, Jack?”

      “Making good progress,” came the steady answer. “I’ve learned that we’ve shouldered a whopping big job this time; and still things keep cropping up, that make it necessary to go back and change matters some. But I’ll be in fine shape by tomorrow noon, I figure.”

      “Kinder reckon on makin’ the jump then, air yeou, boss?” demanded Perk.

      Jack