The B. M. Bower Megapack

by B. M. Bower

  On a certain Saturday, months before the traffic cops grew tired of blowing whistles and took to revolving silently at stated intervals with outspread wings after the manner of certain mechanical toys, Mary V Selmer came from the Western Union’s main office, and thanked heaven silently that her new roadster of the type called the Bear Cat was still standing at the curb where she had left it. Just beyond it on the left a stream of automobiles grazed by—but none so new and shiny, so altogether elegantly “sassy” as the Bear Cat. Mary V, when she stepped in and settled herself behind the steering wheel, matched the car, completed its elegant “sassiness,” its general air of getting where it wanted to go, let the traffic be what it might and devil-take-the-fenders.

  Mary V was unhappy, but her unhappiness was somewhat mitigated by the Bear Cat and her new mole collar that made a soft, fur wall about her slim throat to her very ears and the tip of her saucy chin, and the perky hat—also elegantly “sassy”—turned up in front and down behind, and the new driving gauntlets, and the new coat that had made dad groan until he had seen Mary V inside it and changed the groan to a proud little chuckle of admiration.

  Mary V was terribly worried about Johnny Jewel. She had been sure that he had come to Los Angeles, and she had pestered her dad into bringing her here in the firm belief that she would find him at once and “have it out with him” once and for all. (Just as though Mary V could ever settle a quarrel once and for all!) But though she had haunted all the known and some of the unknown flying fields, she had found no trace of Johnny. That messenger boy in Tucson had insisted that the plane climbed high and then flew toward the Coast. And at Yuma she had learned that the Thunder Bird had alighted there for gas and oil and had flown toward Los Angeles. But so far as Mary V could discover, it was still flying.

  Hoping to wean her from worrying about Johnny, dad had bought the Bear Cat. Mary V had owned it for ten days now, and its mileage stood at 1400 and was just about ready to slide another “1” into sight. The Bear Cat had proven itself a useful little Cat.

  Now she shifted from neutral to second, disdaining low speed altogether, and swung boldly out into the stream of traffic. A Ford shied off with a startled squawk to let the Bear Cat by. A hurrying truck that was thinking of cutting in to get first chance within the safety zone passage thought better of it when Mary V honked her big Klaxon at him, and stopped with a jolt that nearly brought the Ford to grief behind it.

  But Mary V ignored these trifles. She was busy wondering where she should go next, and she was scanning swiftly the faces of the passers-by in the hope of glimpsing the one face she wished most of all to see.

  She reached the corner just as the frame closed against her, and with one small foot on the clutch pedal and the other on the brake, she leaned back and scanned the crowd. Abruptly she leaned and beckoned, saw that her signal went unregarded, and gave three short but terrific blasts of her Klaxon. Five hundred and forty-nine persons reacted sharply to the sound and sent startled glances her way. The traffic cop whirled and looked, the motorman on the car waiting beside her leaned far out and craned, and the conductor grasped both handrails and took a step down that he might see the better.

  Mary V ignored these trifles. Bland, for whom she had meant it, jumped and turned a pale, startled pair of eyes her way, and to him she beckoned imperiously. He hesitated, glanced this way and that, making a quick mental decision. Mary V had once been candidly tempted to shoot him and had dallied with the temptation to the point of cocking her sixshooter and aiming it directly at him. She looked now quite capable of repeating the performance and of completing what she had merely started last summer. He went to the edge of the curb, obeying her expectant stare. The expectant stare continued to transfix him, and he stepped off the curb and close to the Bear Cat that was growling in its throat.

  “Bland Halliday, where have you been, for gracious sake? And where’s Johnny?”

  “I ain’t been anywhere but here—and I wisht I knowed where Johnny was. I—”

  “Bland Halliday, you tell me instantly! Where’s Johnny?”

  “Honest, I don’t know. I been looking for him myself, and—”

  “Bland Halliday, do you want to be torn limb from limb, right here on the public street before everybody? I want to know where Johnny is, and I want to know now.”

  “Aw, f’r cat’s sake! I ain’t saw Johnny f’r three weeks—not since the night we got here. I been looking—”

  Behind them sounded a succession of impatient honks that extended almost to Seventh Street. The traffic cop had blown his whistle, the street car had clanged warning and gone on. The truck had shaved past Mary V and the Ford had followed. Other cars coming up behind had mistaken the Bear Cat’s inaction for closed traffic and had stopped. Others had stopped behind them; then two other street cars slid up and blocked the way around.

  Mary V was quite oblivious to all this. She was glaring at the one link between herself and Johnny Jewel. She was bitterly regretting the fact that she had no gun with which to scare Bland into telling the truth, and she was wondering what other means of coercion would prove effective. Bland knew where Johnny was, of course. He was lying, for some reason—probably because he had the habit and couldn’t stop.

  Bland kept an eye on Mary V’s right hand. He suspected a gun, and when, in involuntary obedience to the frantic honkings behind her, she let her hand drop to the gear lever, Bland turned to flee.

  “Bland, you come back here!” Bland came. “What do you mean, trying to avoid answering a perfectly civil question?”

  “I did answer it,” Bland protested in his whining tone. “I said I didn’t know—”

  “That’s no answer; that’s nothing but a plain old lie. You do know perfectly well where he is. You left Tucson with Johnny, and you left Yuma with him. Bland Halliday, what have you done with him?”

  Bland’s eyes turned slightly glassy. Like a trapped animal, he sent roving glances here and there—and took in the purposeful approach of the traffic cop. He turned again toward the curb.

  “Don’t you dare attempt to leave before—”

  “What’s the matter here? What you blocking traffic for? Don’t you know I can—”

  “Oh! Am I in the way here? I shall move immediately, of course. Thank you so much! It’s really no trouble at all, and I’m tremendously sorry if I have inconvenienced you or the general public any. I believe you are really glad, down deep in your heart, when somebody gives you an excuse to leave that horrid little square spot for a minute. Don’t you nearly go wild, having to—Bland! What are you standing there holding up traffic for? Get in!”

  Looking completely dazed and helpless, Bland got in.

  “Now we’re all ready, Mr. Policeman. Run along back and point the herd again before all the nice little tame Fords get walked on. I hear one squalling now. And thank you so much.”

  Mary V let in the clutch. The Bear Cat slid out across the street, scattering pedestrians and jeopardizing wheels and fenders as it ducked past them. The traffic cop stood still for a minute, rubbing his chin vaguely and staring after Mary V. Then he went back to his post, grinning and frowning—which gave him a strange, complex expression.

  “Aw, say, Miss Selmer—”

  “Will you be quiet? Haven’t you done harm enough, for gracious sake? Aren’t you satisfied with getting me almost put in jail innocently? If you had told me at once where Johnny is, I’d be miles away by now. But no—you hold up traffic trying to deceive me, and I almost get pinched. I should think you’d be ashamed. Where is Johnny? If you have done anything to him, Bland Halliday, I’ll—hang you!”

  “I been telling yuh all I know about it. I don’t know where he is, and I don’t know where the plane is. They’re both of ’em gone, and that’s Gawd’s truth, Miss Selmer. Last I seen of Johnny he was goin’ in the Alexandria. He said he was going to stop there. He registered all right—I seen his name. He stayed all night, and he was gone the next day when I went after him. And the plane’s gone, I
been out there, and I can’t find so much as a sign of it. And that was three weeks ago. And you kin hang me till I’m dead, but I can’t tell nothin’ more. Don’t yuh spose I want to know where’s he at?”

  “Well—” Mary V crossed the path of a street car, leaving the motorman shivering while he stood on the bell that clamored wildly. “Maybe you are telling the truth—but I doubt it.” They were across Figueroa Street and speeding out toward Westlake. The Bear Cat was breaking the speed law, and Mary V had no time to say more.

  “Where you takin’ me, f’r cat’s sake?”

  “Oh—for a ride. Don’t you like to ride?” Mary V’s voice was filled with amiability; too much so to satisfy Bland, who eyed her with suspicion.

  “Aw, a fellow can’t never git a square deal no more. Here I been hunting the town over trying to git some line on Skyrider. Went and left me in the lurch after me helping him to a roll of kale that would choke a nelephant! And I never charged him nothin’ for flying, except just what we agreed on before he got throwed in jail. Handed him over close to five hundred dollars when he come out—piloted him here, took him into town, and was planning on helping him to make more money, and what does he do? Ducks into the Alexandria, leavin’ me waitin’ outside, hungry and thirsty and tired as a dog. Him with five hundred, me with seventy-five! And he wouldn’t a knowed any different if I’d trimmed him! Who was to keep tabs on how many passengers I took up? And what does he do? Gives me the slip right there in the Alexandria, that’s what he done. I ain’t been able to locate him yet, but if ever I do—”

  Mary V swung the Bear Cat out and passed a limousine as though it were standing still—which it emphatically was not. What if Bland were telling the truth? What if Johnny had actually dropped out of sight with five hundred dollars in his possession? That would mean—she refused to consider just what it would mean. She would wait until her dad had gotten the truth out of Bland Halliday. She was taking Bland home, hoping that her dad was there so that she would not be compelled to keep Bland any longer than was necessary. Bland was seedier than he had been in Tucson, if that were possible. Too evidently he had no part of the seventy-five dollars left, if he had ever possessed that much. Mary V would like to disbelieve everything he said, but a troubled doubt of his falsity assailed her.

  She drove a little faster and presently brought Bland to the door of a cheerful, wide-porched bungalow patterned somewhat after the Rolling R home. Old Sudden was just pulling on his driving gloves ready to step into his own car when the Bear Cat slid up and stopped. He looked at Bland casually, looked again quickly, pursing his lips. Whereupon his poker face hid what he thought.

  “Dad, come back into the house and talk to Bland Halliday. He told me the strangest story about Johnny, and—and I wish you’d just talk to him and see if it’s true.” Mary V was not altogether without consideration for the feelings of another, but candor was the keynote of her nature, and she was very much perturbed, and she did not really feel that a fellow like Bland Halliday had any feelings to consider.

  Sudden smoothed a smile off his mouth. “Well, now, this is very thoughtful of you; very thoughtful. I appreciate your coming to consult me before you have settled the whole thing yourself. Come into the house, young man.”

  An hour later, Sudden leaned back in his chair and looked at Mary V. Tight-lipped, paler than she had any right to be, Mary V met the look wide-eyed. Bland moved his feet anxiously, watching them both.

  “I played square with him,” he whined. “Either he didn’t, or else—”

  Sudden’s eyes turned to Bland and settled there meditatively. “Yes, I guess you did,” he admitted. “Looks like you had played fair. Where are you stopping? I’ll take you back down town. Need money?”

  “Dad! Aren’t you going to do anything? If Bland is telling the truth, don’t you see what it means? Something must have happened—”

  “Well, now, that will all be attended to, kitten. According to Bland, Johnny checked out before he disappeared. Also his airplane disappeared with him. That doesn’t look like he’d been made away with, exactly. He’s all right, probably—but we’ll find out. I’ve a right to know what he did with that flying machine; it’s security for that note of his!”

  Mary V sprang to her feet and faced him. “Dad Selmer, I would never have believed a person on oath if they had said you could be so perfectly mean and mercenary! If that’s all you care about, why take the Bear Cat and give me that note! Go on—take it! I guess Johnny has a right to do as he pleases until the note is due, at any rate. You might at least treat Johnny with ordinary business courtesy, I should think. You know perfectly well that you wouldn’t dare hound your other creditors like that. But if you are really worried about that note, I shall deem it a pleasure and a privilege to pay it myself, and I’m sure the Bear Cat is good for the amount, or if you prefer you may hold back my allowance, and I shall go without clothes and everything until it is paid. It’s a perfect outrage to keep nagging Johnny when he’s doing his level best and not asking any help from you or any one else. I’m sure I honor and respect him all the more, and you would too if you had a drop of human blood—now what are you grinning for—and trying to hide it? Dad Selmer, you do make me perfectly furious at times!”

  Mary V laid hands upon her father and for his shortcomings she “woolled” him until his grizzled hair stood straight on end. Sudden protested, tried to hold her off at arm’s length and found her all claws, like an excited wildcat.

  “Now, now—”

  “Tell me then what you are going to do. And don’t try to make me believe you only care for that horrid note. Every time I think of you making that poor boy sign over everything he had on earth, except me, of course, and you wouldn’t let him have me when he wanted—why, dad, I could shake you till—”

  Bland was edging to the door. He had no experience with families and domestic upheavals, and he did not know just how serious this quarrel might prove. He expected Sudden to order Mary V from the house—to disown her, at the very least. He did not want to be a witness when Sudden broke loose. But Sudden called him back and turned to Mary V.

  “Here, let me go. You’re scaring off the only evidence we’ve got that Johnny landed here. You stay right here and behave yourself, young lady. I might want to ’phone you, if I get a clue—”

  “Oh, dad! Cross your heart you’ll ’phone the very instant you find out anything? Here’s your hat—do, for gracious sake, hurry!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  JOHNNY IS NOT PAID TO THINK

  On that same Saturday afternoon, at about the time when Mary V sighted Bland at the southeast corner of Sixth and Spring, Johnny stood just under the peak behind Mateo’s cabin and saw a lone horseman ride across the upper neck of the little valley and disappear into the brush on the side opposite him. He waited impatiently. The rider did not reappear, but presently he saw what looked like a human figure crouched behind a rock well up the slope. Johnny stared until his eyes watered with the strain, but he could not be sure that the object was a man. If it were, the man was without a doubt placed there for purposes of observation. The thought was not a pleasant one.

  He waited, himself crouched now behind a jutting fragment of rock, and thought he saw the object move. A little later the sun, sliding farther down the sky, reflected a glittering something just above that rock. A bit of glass would do that—the lenses of a field glass, for instance. Two lenses would shine as one, Johnny believed, and was thankful that his slope was in shadow.

  Taking it for granted that some one was watching the valley, he studied the spot where the glitter had already winked out—possibly because the man had moved the field glasses, sweeping the valley. It was a good place for a spy, Johnny admitted. There was a slight ridge just there, so that the view was clear for some distance in either direction; Mateo’s cabin was in plain sight, and the surrounding hills. He hoped the fellow would see nothing suspicious and would presently give up that post; in the meantime he was effectually tr
eed. There was no shelter that he dared trust on the first rocky half of the descent, and to climb up and over the peak he would surely reveal himself, unless the fellow’s attention happened to be centered on something else.

  Johnny studied his predicament. The man could see everything—but could he hear? He was half a mile off, Johnny judged, estimating the distance with an accuracy born of long living in the country of far skylines. The spy would need sharp ears indeed to hear anything less than a shout.

  Johnny picked up a pebble, aimed, and threw it at the roof of Mateo’s cabin. The pebble landed true and rattled off, hitting the ground with a bounce and rolling away in the grass. The children, playing in the open as they always did, stopped and looked up inquiringly, then went on with their play. Mateo came cautiously from the back door and to him Johnny called, thankful that the observer on the hillside could not see through the cabin to where Mateo stood.

  “Stay where you are,” he called. “Can you hear me?”

  Mateo nodded emphatically.

  “All right. Take your gun and start off across the flat, down the way Cliff will come. Act like you didn’t want to be seen. There’s somebody across on the hill, up here, and I want to see if he’ll follow you. You get me?”

  “Si, yes. I’m go.”

  “After awhile you can come back. If you see Cliff, tell him he’s after ducks. Sabe?”

  “Yo se. I’m onderstan’.”

  “All right. Go back in the house and come out the front door and start off.”

  Mateo waved his hand and disappeared. In five minutes or less Johnny saw him walking away from the cabin and glancing frequently at the hills upon either hand. His manner might have been called stealthy, if one were looking for stealth. Johnny was looking for something else, and presently he gave a grunt of satisfaction. The object behind the rock stood up and levelled his glasses at Mateo. Johnny waited until he was sure and then scrambled down to the protection of another bowlder. He peered from there up the valley and after some searching discovered his man working carefully along a side hill, evidently anxious to keep Mateo in sight. Johnny worked down another rod or two, reconnoitered again, made another sliding run for it, and stopped behind a clump of brush. In that way he reached the shelter of the oak, feeling certain that he had not been seen.