by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ONE MORE PLUNGE FOR JOHNNY
The grinding clamor of passing street cars jarring over the SpringStreet crossing woke Johnny to what he thought was moonlight, until itoccurred to him that the pale glow must come from street lamps. Theair was muggy, filled with the odor of damp soot. He sniffed, turnedover with the bed covering rolled close around him, snuggled his cheekinto a pillow, yawned, rooted deeper, opened his eyes again, and turnedon the reading light by his bed. It was five-thirty--red dawn inArizona where his dreaming had borne him swiftly to his old camp atSinkhole. Five-thirty would be getting-up time on the range, but inLos Angeles the hour seemed an ungodly time to crawl out of bed. Hereached for his "makings" and rolled a cigarette which he smoked withno more than one arm and his head exposed to the clamminess of theatmosphere.
He ought to return to the Thunder Bird by daylight, he mused, but hedid not know how to get there. He needed Bland for pilot, but he didnot know where to find Bland. Now that he came to consider findingpeople and places, it occurred to him that neither did he know where tofind Cliff Lowell. Thinking of him made Johnny wonder what kind ofnews gathering it was that could make it worth a thousand dollars aweek to a man to have a swift, secret means of locomotion at hiscommand. It had sounded plausible enough last night, but now he wasnot so sure of it. It might be some graft--it might even be a schemeto rob him of his plane. It would be a good idea to look into mattersa little before he went any farther, he decided. When Bland showed up,he'd go out and take a look at the Thunder Bird, and get her in shapeto fly. Then they'd get to work. But a thousand dollars a week suredid sound good, and if the proposition was on the square--
He snuggled down and began to build an air castle. Suppose it wasstraight, and he went into the deal with Lowell; and suppose he workedfor two months, say. That would be eight--well, say nine thousand, theway weeks lap over on the calendar. Suppose by Christmas he had eightthousand dollars clear money. (Five hundred a month ought to run theplane, with any kind of luck.) Well, what if he took the Thunder Birdand his eight thousand, and flew back to the Rolling R and lit in theyard just about when they were sitting down to their Christmas dinner.He'd walk in and lay three thousand dollars down on the table by oldSudden, and tell him kind of careless, "I happened to have a littleextra cash on hand, so I thought I'd take up that note while I thoughtof it. No use letting it go on drawing interest."
Say, maybe Sudden's eyes wouldn't stick out! And Mary V would kind ofcatch her breath and open her eyes wide at him, and say, "Why,Johnny--?" And say--no, jump up and put her arms around his neckand--slide her lips along his cheek and whisper--
An hour and a half later he awoke, saw with dismay that it was seveno'clock, and piled out of bed as guiltily as though an irate round-upboss stood over him. The Thunder Bird to repair, a big business dealto be accepted or rejected,--whichever his judgment advised and thefates favored,--and he in bed at seven o'clock! He dressed hurriedly,expecting to hear an impatient rapping on the door before he was readyto face a critical business world. If he had time that day, he oughtto get himself some clothes. He would not want to eat again in thatplace where Cliff Lowell took him, dressed as he was now.
He waited an impatient five minutes, went down to the lobby,--aftersome trouble finding the elevator,--and found himself alone with theonyx pillars and a few porters with brushes and things. A differentclerk glanced at him uninterestedly and assured him that no one hadcalled to see Mr. Jewel that morning. He left word that he would beback in half an hour and went out to find breakfast. Luck took himthrough the side entrance to Spring Street, where eating places werefairly numerous. He discovered what he wanted, ate as fast as he couldswallow without choking on his ham and eggs or scalding his throat withthe coffee, and returned to the hotel.
No, there had been no call for Mr. Jewel. Johnny bought a morningpaper, but could find no mention of his arrival in Los Angeles. CliffLowell, he decided, must be playing the secrecy to the limit. It didnot please him overmuch, in spite of his revilings of the press thathad made a joke of his troubles. Couldn't they do anything but go toextremes, for gosh sake? Here he had made a record night,--he haddistinctly told that clerk the time he had made it in,--and CliffLowell knew, too. Yet the paper was absolutely dumb. They ignoredeverything he did that was worth notice, and yawped his private affairsall over their front pages. That man Lowell was taking too much onhimself. Johnny hadn't agreed to take the job yet; he very muchdoubted whether he would take it at all. He would rather be his ownboss and fly when he pleased and where he pleased. This flying overinto Mexico and back looked pretty fishy, come to think of it. If itwas against the law, how did Lowell expect to get away with it? If itwasn't, why be so darned secret about it?
For three quarters of an hour, perhaps longer, Johnny dismissed thethousand-dollar-a-week job from his mind and waited with risingindignation for Bland. What had become of the darned little runt?Here it was nine o'clock, and no sign of him. The lobby was beginningto wear an atmosphere of sedate bustling to and fro. Johnny watchedtravelers arrive with their luggage, watched other travelers depart.Business men strayed in, seeking acquaintances. The droning chant ofpages in tight jackets and little caps perched jauntily askewinterested him. Would Bland, when he came, have sense enough to sendone around calling out "Mr. Jew-wel--Mr. John-ny Jew-wel"? Johnny knewexactly how it would sound. Cliff Lowell might, but he did not want tosee Cliff. The more he thought about him the more he distrusted thatproposition. A thousand dollars a week did not sound convincing in thebroad light of day. It was altogether too good to be true. Why, goodgolly! Nobody but a millionaire could afford to pay that much just forriding around; and if they could, they'd buy themselves an airplane.They wouldn't rent one, that was certain.
At ten o'clock Johnny mentally blew up. He had not come to Los Angelesto sit around in any doggone hotel like an old woman waiting for atrain, and if Bland or anybody else thought he'd hang around there allday-- He went to the desk, left word that he had gone out toInglewood, watched the clerk scribble the information on a slip ofpaper and put it in his key box, and went out wondering how he wasgoing to find his way to the Thunder Bird. But his natural initiativecame to his aid. He saw an automobile with a FOR HIRE sign on it, heldbrief conversation with the driver, and was presently leaning back onthe cushions watching luckless pedestrians dodge out of the way. Thesight, I may add, restored his good humor to the point of forgettinghis dignity and crawling over into the front seat where he proceeded toscrape acquaintance with the driver. Los Angeles was a great place,all right--when you can see it from the front seat of an automobile.Johnny began to talk automobiles to the man and managed to extract agood deal of information, that may or may not have been authentic,concerning the various "makes" and their prices and speed. Not that heintended to buy one; but still, with good luck, there was no reason whyhe should not, when he had that note paid. A car certainly did giveclass to a man--and according to this fellow it would be a real economyto own one. This man said he looked upon a car as a necessity; andJohnny very quickly adopted his point of view and began to think howextravagant he was not to own one. Why, take this trip, for instance.If he owned the car himself, all it would cost him to go to Inglewoodwould be the gas he would burn. As it was, it would probably mean tenor fifteen dollars before he was through. An automobile of your ownsure did mean a big saving all around--time and money. Take a job likethis man Lowell had offered, why, he could very soon own a car. Athousand dollars a week, for a few weeks--it was his to take, if hewanted to do it--
There he went again, playing with the thought until they slid throughInglewood and out on the boulevard that curved flirtatiously close to arailroad track, where he had tramped with Bland--good golly! Was thatonly last night? Tired and hungry and blue, with a broken plane tothink of and Mary V and the Rolling R to forget--last night. And herehe was, debating with himself the wisdom of accepting an offer of athousand dollars a we
ek, thinking seriously of buying himself anautomobile! Was it two miles to where they had turned out of the beanfield on to the highway? It certainly didn't seem that far today.Except for the curves which he remembered he would have thought thedriver had made a mistake when he slowed and swung short into a roughtrail that crossed the railroad. But there was the Thunder Birdsitting disconsolately with a broken nose and Lord knew what otherdisabilities, in the bean field where he had left her. He felt asthough he had been away for a month.
With a pencil and paper he was carefully setting down what slightrepairs he would need to make, when a big, dark red roadster swung offthe boulevard and came chuckling toward them down the rough trail.Cliff Lowell was driving, and he greeted Johnny with a carelessassurance of their unity of interest that would make it difficult forJohnny to hold off, if holding off proved to be his ultimate intention.
Cliff climbed out and came up to the Thunder Bird, standing with hisfeet slightly apart, pulling off his driving gloves that he might lighta cigarette.
"They told me at the hotel you were out here, so I came on. Bettersend that car back to town," he suggested frugally. "I'll take you in.No use wasting money on car hire when you don't have to. I want totalk to you, anyway."
Johnny hesitated, then paid his driver and let him go.
"I've got to go around to a supply house and get me a new propeller,"he said afterwards. "And a control wire snapped. We made a bumlanding last night--or my mechanic did. He claimed he knew this field,so I let him go ahead."
"Where is he? Did you let him out?"
"I didn't, but I will if he don't show up; pronto." Johnny's tone wasthe tone of accustomed authority. "He failed to report, this morning."
Cliff reached into an inner pocket and drew out a flat package, whichhe proceeded to open, using a wing for a table. "I've been busy thismorning," he announced, laying his cigarette down on the wing. Johnnypromptly swept the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under hisheel. Wing coverings are rather inflammable, and he was not taking anychances.
"Pardon the carelessness. I don't know much about airplanes, old man.Well, I went to the boss and had a talk with him, after I left you lastnight. I put the proposition up to him, and he is rather keen on it.He sees the value of getting news by airplane. The saving of time andthe avoidance of publicity will double its value--to say nothing of thechance that we may be able to pick up something of immense importanceto the government. Mexican situation, you know--all that sort of thing.
"So he put me in touch with parties that could furnish this." _This_was a large photographic bird's-eye map of a country which looked verymuch like Arizona, or the wild places anywhere next the Mexicanborderline. "Where I got it I am not at liberty to say. It's apractice map--done for the training in aerial photography that isessential nowadays in warfare. The government is going in ratherstrong on that sort of thing. This is authentic. Take a good look atit through this glass and tell me what you think of it. Can you seeany place that would make a possible secret landing for an airplane,for instance?"
"Golly!" Johnny whispered, as Cliff's meaning flashed clean-cut throughthe last sentence. He studied the photograph with pursed lips, hisleft eye squinted that his right eye might peer through a small readingglass. "It would depend on the ground," he answered after a minute."I'd want to fly over it before I could tell exactly. If it was softsandy for instance--" (Bland would have snickered at that, knowing whatreason Johnny had for realizing the disadvantages of soft sand as alanding place.) "But the topography looks very practicable for thepurpose." (Nothing like talking up to your audience. Johnny was proudof that sentence.)
"All right. We'll lay that aside for further investigation. I'm gladyou have the plane out here away from every one. We'll take a run overto that locality in my car--it's open season for ducks, and there'sthat lake you see on the map. A couple of shotguns and our huntinglicenses will be all the alibi we'll need. You must know how to getabout in the open country, living in Arizona as you have, and I'mcounting a good deal on that. That's one reason why I made you theoffer, instead of these flyers around here--and by the way, that's onepoint that made you look like a safe bet to the old man.
"I was talking to him about salary, and he's willing to go strongerthan I said, if you make good. He said it would be worth about twohundred a day, which is considerably better than the thousand a weekthat I named."
Cliff knew when to stop and let the bait dangle. He fussed with afresh cigarette, paying no apparent attention to Johnny, which gavethat young man an idea that he was wholly unobserved while he dizzilymade a mental calculation. Fourteen hundred a week--go-od golly! In amonth--or would it last for a month?
"How long a job is this?" he demanded so suddenly that the words wereout before he knew he was going to ask the question.
"How long? Well--that's hard to say. Until you fail to put me acrossthe line safely, I suppose. There's always something doing or going tobe done in Mexico, old man--and it's always worth reporting to theSyndicate. How long will people go on reading their morning paper atbreakfast?" He smiled the tolerant, bored smile that Johnny associatedwith his first sight of Cliff. "I should say the job will last as longas you make good."
"Well, that puts it up to me, then. I'd want an agreement that I'd bepaid a week in advance all the time. That's to cover the risk ofcostly breakage and things like that. At the end of every week I'd befree to quit or go on, and you'd be free to let me out if I didn'tsuit. With that understanding I'll try her out--for a week, startingto-morrow morning." He added, by way of clinching the matter, "Andthat goes."
Cliff Lowell blew a thin wreath of smoke and smiled again. "It goes,far as I am concerned. I think the old man will agree to it, providingyou take oath you'll keep the whole thing secret. I haven't preachedthat to you, but the whole scheme blows up the minute it is madepublic. You understand that, of course, and I'm not afraid of you; butthe old man may want some assurance. If he does, you can give it, andif he does not, it will be because he is taking my word that you areall right.
"Now let's get down to business. How long will it take you to get themachine in shape? And can't you make arrangements with the owner ofthis field to leave it here for the present--and perhaps get him tokeep an eye on it? Wait. You leave him to me. I think he's a Jap,and I know Japs pretty well. I'll go hunt him up and talk to him. Ifwe can run it under cover for a couple of days, all the better."
He climbed into his car and went off down the road to where the roofsof several buildings showed just above a ridge. His talk must havebeen well lubricated with something substantial in the way of legaltender, for presently he returned, and behind him a team came down theroad hauling a flat hayrack on which four Japs sat and dangled theirlegs to the jolting of the wagon.
"He's a good scout, and he will keep the plane under cover for us,"Cliff announced in a satisfied tone. "They're going to load it on thewagon and haul it home, where there's a shed I think will hold it. Ifit won't, we'll buy it and knock out an end or something."
The four Japs, chinning unintelligibly and smiling a good deal, loadedthe Thunder Bird to Johnny's satisfaction, hauled it to the buildingsover the ridge, and after they had knocked all the boards off one sideto admit the wings, ran it under a shed. Afterwards they nailed allthe boards on again while Johnny stood around and watched themuneasily, secretly depressed because his Thunder Bird was being pennedin by gibbering brown men who might be unwilling to return it to him ondemand.
For good or ill, he was committed now to Cliff Lowell's project. Eventhough he was committed for only a week, qualms of doubt assailed himat intervals during their roaring progress to the city. Cliff drovewith an effortless skill which filled Johnny with envy. Someday--well, a car like this wouldn't be so bad. And if the job held outlong enough-- Why, good golly, think of it! And Mary V thought hecouldn't make any money with his airplane. Wanted him to go to workfor her dad--think of that!
Think
ing of it; he tried to silence the qualms. Tried to reassurehimself with Cliff's very evident sincerity, his easy assurance thatall would be well. Johnny had been canny enough to make the agreementby the week--surely nothing much could go wrong in that little while,and if he didn't like the look of things after a week's try-out, hecould quit, and that would be all there would be of it. It was toogood a chance to let slip by without a trial, anyway. A man would be afool to do that; and Johnny, whatever he thought of himself, did notconsider himself a fool.
