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Ebook has 2377 lines and 123848 words, and 48 pages

Trackers of the Fog Pack

PERK SIGHS FOR ACTION

San Diego, in sunny Southern California, was looking its prettiest, with balmy breezes blowing softly; cloudless blue skies overhead; the usual throngs on the streets, and a general atmosphere of contentment resting over the entire place.

Already tourist pilgrims were beginning their annual migration from the cold lands of the north and northeast, seeking the more congenial climate along the picturesque Coast, where flowers bloomed throughout every month of the year; and outdoor sports of all descriptions tempted those inclined that way to participate.

At his side stalked his bosom pal, Jack Ralston, in whose company latterly the said Perk had participated in a number of thrilling flying stunts, all of which have been narrated in the earlier books of this series of aviation stories.

Those who have enjoyed a previous recital of their adventures in the precarious vocation they followed, as policemen of the skies, need no further introduction to the pair of cronies. For the benefit of new readers, less fortunate, it may be said right here, before embarking on the latest and most thrilling of their recent exploits, that Jack and Perk were trusted members of Uncle Sam's wide-flung Secret Service organization; and on account of their clever and conscientious work, often entrusted with some of the most dangerous and difficult missions engaging the attention of the high "muck-a-muck" authorities at Washington Headquarters.

"What puts you in the dumps so, Perk?" Jack was asking, after noticing for the tenth time what a frown had settled on his chum's usually smiling phiz. "Dinner knocking harder than customary; or did you get a letter from your best girl, breaking off the engagement? Strikes me you're fast becoming a chronic cr?pe-hanger these days."

"That's all hot air--boloney I'd call it, as yeou know right well, Jack!" Perk flung back. "Chow was all to the good--ain't got nary a best gal, an' never did have, neither--they're all rank pizen to me. Guess again, Mister."

The other stopped short on Main Street's pavement, and looked his companion straight in the face, actually smiling a bit in the bargain.

"Well," remarked Jack, looking much relieved it could be seen. "I more than half suspected this, Perk; but cheer up--the longest lane must have its turning. Meanwhile we're getting our regular pay from our Uncle Samuel, remember!"

"But not earnin' a red cent, jest the same, which is what upsets me most," continued the complaining one. "Makes me feel like I'm sorter pensioned off, an' ain't worth the snap o' my fingers to the Service. Huh!"

"Nonsense, boy, that's a silly way of looking at things. We're just resting up after that difficult job we pulled off, with the help of the Mounted Police, far away up in Northwest Canada. That successful flight, and arrest, earned us a vacation, our superiors believe; which I for one have enjoyed immensely. Now I'm feeling fine, and fit for the next commission the Big Boss decides to hand out to us."

"Little danger of such a thing coming to pass, Perk--it's a whole bit like swimming--once you learn how to keep afloat it's good for a life-time."

"Mebbe so, Jack--I got a hunch it's the same way with ridin' a bike used to be--first few days yeou felt stiff in all yeour joints, ev'rything out o' kelter; but when a chump got used to guidin' the skittish wheel along it came as easy as fallin' off a log. Honest Injun, neow, Jack, ain't yeou any idea when we're apt to grab an order to get goin' again?"

"Any old day I'm looking for the same, Perk."

"Gosh! that don't strike me as givin' much encouragement, partner," Perk told his mate, aggrievedly.

"I wrote in ten days ago," Jack went on to say, quietly, "to say our ship was in first-class condition, while we were on deck, waiting for orders."

"Bully for yeou!" snapped Perk, brightening up visibly, as though, like a war horse at the scent of burnt powder making his nostrils quiver with anticipation. "I'm right neow yearnin' to set eyes on a different landscape than sleepy ol' San Diego, an' slow towns borderin' on the same."

Perk only stated a truth when he referred to his adventurous life. He was considerably older than his running mate, having been over in France when only eighteen years of age, handling a sausage balloon on the fighting line, and running into numerous close corners, having been shot down at least twice.

After the war was over he came home, and started learning the ropes of the new craze--flying; becoming a very good pilot in time, though a bit reckless, it must be admitted.

Then he drifted into the lumber camps, and played logger for a few seasons. After that Perk, who was proud of having a strain of Canadian blood along with his Yankee heritage, turned up among the Mounties in the Far Northwest regions and spent some years doing service with those dashing officers enforcing the Law of the wilderness.

Meeting up with Jack Ralston--after being coaxed to throw his fortunes in with the Secret Service at Washington, he took a strong liking for the bright-witted youngster, and they had been boon comrades ever since, sharing their blankets, meeting all manner of peril in company, and becoming what might be called real "blood brothers."

So, too, had Jack been through some interesting experiences, although not of the same thrilling character as those Perk could look back to, when musing of the past.

He had had a run of circus training, being a natural athlete; and on the bills had been advertised as a famous trapeze performer. Then naturally the lure of the air gripped Jack, and forsaking the sawdust ring he began making parachute drops with one of those barnstorming aviators possessing a dilapidated crate with which he was wont to give exhibitions at Harvest Home festivals, and County Fairs all over the West--just as Lindbergh did in his school days.

It was in this fashion that young Ralston learned to be a clever pilot; and possibly his skill at the controls was one leading factor bringing about an earnest invitation for him to join up with the Secret Service--about that time it became evident that a new branch of the Law organization must be built up, in order to compete with the lawless smuggling gangs that were already using airplanes with which to fetch contraband of every description into the country.

So well did the pair co-operate that they worked as two parts of the whole machine--as one hand knows what the other hand requires to make a finished product so their brains often worked in unison, thus adding additional strength to their united efforts.

As they continued their walk, meaning to return to the city in time for lunch, Perk continued to ramble on with observations covering much ground; for he had a decided opinion on every variety of subject, and could be depended on to exploit his ideas at the slightest invitation.

Footnote 1:

HE GETS HIS WISH

"Some excitement, I own up, Perk," agreed Jack, exchanging a look of inquiry with his companion. "Dog fight, like as not, since I thought I heard a yowling just then, as if one mutt'd got his in the neck."

"Jest hear the people a shoutin' will yeou?" snapped Perk.

"But that doesn't sound like they were enjoying themselves a heap, I'd say, boy--such screaming and yelling--they're badly rattled over whatever's going on. What could it all mean, I wonder?"

"That beast is as mad as a hatter!" boomed Jack, thrilled by the frightful sight. "He's bound to own the whole street, no matter if a battalion of cops try to sheer him off!"

"Mebbe, mate," Perk was shouting "we'd better be steppin' to one side in a hurry; I ain't lost nary dog; an' I'm not fool enough to want to stand up 'fore one that's rabid--not Gabe Perkiser! Get a move on, Jack, an' vamose!"

"Wait up!" cried the other, for so great was the clamor no one could expect to be heard unless he fairly shouted.

"Excuse me, boy--I got a date!" Perk bellowed back, grinning as he spoke.

"Sure do, partner--let's go!"

Others were running in every direction save toward the great ugly beast, thinking in their panicky state of nerves only of their own safety. All the while the shouts continued to go booming along the length of Main Street:

"Mad dog! mad dog! everybody run--get the children indoors! He's rabid and ready to snap at anybody in his way! Run for it!"

But the poor little baby directly in the path of the oncoming demon could not heed the shouts--vainly he tried to crawl to one side, his terrified eyes fixed on that dreadful vision of fury and rabies confronting him, and drawing closer with every passing second.

Jack and Perk were galloping forward with all their might, intending to throw themselves between the child and that stumbling terror with the lolling head and dripping jaws.

It could be seen that Perk was gripped by a sudden inspiration--he had dragged some sort of object from his pocket, and was working feverishly with the same. Jack understood, and inwardly blessed the lucky chance that had caused his pal to fetch his old war weapon out to his friend the town gunsmith, so as to have it put in first-class condition. It must have been the hand of a kind fate that brought about this wonderful coincidence, Jack was telling himself, when guessing that the running airman must be trying with all his cleverness to insert a cartridge or two into the chambers of the small, antiquated six-shooter.

Fortune favored them, for they were enabled to pass beyond the writhing and shrieking child, thus facing the danger themselves as a shield to buck up against the charge of the mad dog.

Perk dropped down on one knee--it was the natural position for one to assume under such conditions, bringing him more on a level with the beast. Jack, too, knew he had a part in the scheme to save the tiny lad--lacking a weapon of any kind he could not stand by Perk; but one thing was left to him, which was to snatch up the imperiled child, and leap to safety before the crisis crashed upon them.

Even as he was thus bearing the lad out of the danger zone, he caught a sudden explosion that told him Perk had sent in a shot. It was his bosom pal crouched back there with that shaggy beast almost upon him; for he knew full well Perk had waited until he could make doubly certain of his aim.

Somehow Jack could not keep from turning his head, so as to know the worst--he had a cold feeling in the region of his heart, undoubtedly fearing he would discover Perk engaged in a furious struggle at close quarters with the animal, one bite from whose jaws would contaminate the flesh his cruel fangs thus mangled.

But that fear was instantly put to flight--Perk still knelt there, while the furious beast writhed on the ground, making frightful efforts to get up on its four feet again.

It was "all over but the shouting," as Perk himself would have put it. He rose to his feet, and coolly stepped forward, to bend over and see that there no longer remained a single breath in the carcase of the terrible brute he had stayed in his mad passage through the town.

The tenor of the wild shouts changed like magic--joy and triumph, not to say relief, began to be heard, as if reassuring the frightened populace there was no longer anything to be feared--the ogre Jabberwock had been laid low, and once again the length of Main Street could be traversed without peril to life and limb.

Jack was trying the best he knew how to allay the terror of the child he still held in his arms, speaking to him with assurance in his tones, and squeezing the white-faced little chap close to his heart.

"It's all right, buddy," he kept saying, with a comforting smile on his face, that was bound to stop the trembling sobs of the other, if anything could. "The ugly dog can't hurt you, for he's been killed, and can never bite anybody. You must have hurt your ankle, little brother; I'm going to carry you to where you live, so they can take care of you, and get the kind doctor to take the pain away. Put your arms around my neck, and I'll be able to hold you better--that's the way, kiddie; you know I'm a good friend of yours, don't you?"

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