They followed the line of swirling beacons the air mail boys were in the habit of trailing, since by this means they could pass some of the numerous danger spots on their route. In good time Jack expected to turn his back on these friendly flashing lights and head due south, to cross the border, and fly over foreign territory.
He had been placed in possession of certain secret documents issued by the Mexican government, which proved how they knew of the unholy alliance made between Slim, the counterfeiter king, and those traitorous generals who yearned for fresh outbreaks so as to pamper their own personal fortunes, just then at low ebb.
There existed something of an arrangement, whereby the Mexican government agreed to stand back of any effort made by the Department at Washington to capture Slim, smash his gang that was widening its powers every day, and clean out the mess of near-bandits with whom he had allied himself.
If it were necessary all arrangements had been made whereby Colonel Jose Morales, with a crack regiment of hard fighting regulars who had seen much bloody service in bringing the defiant Yaqui Indians to terms by invading their mountain fastnesses, and meeting them hand-to-hand—was stationed within a day’s ride of the ravine where Slim had his plant and could be summoned by means of certain smoke signals. No sooner would these “talking smokes” be detected than the order would be given “boots and saddles,” with the mounted regiment in full swing for the debatable ground where Slim had his nefarious nest.
So, too, had a secret arrangement been effected with the old leader of the now defunct Texas Rangers, most of whom were in the service of the Government connected with the border patrol and orders had been given the former gallant hero that if a certain message were received, no matter by what method, he was to gather a squad of his old fighters, and cross the border, sure of being warmly received by the loyal Mexican troops who would welcome his assistance in wiping out the sore spot that had been so long a blot on their country’s honor.
Thus it would seem that everything possible had been done toward striking a telling blow. It only remained for Jack Ralston to start the ball rolling, when it must gain fresh impetus with every revolution.
Perk acted as though decidedly pleased when later on he discovered that they no longer followed the flashing beacon trail—Jack had gone as far as was judicious along that line and now headed straight into the mysterious south, toward the border of the neighboring republic where disorder still held sway, and disgruntled chiefs continued to plot against the rule of the recently elected president.
Every mile traversed now was bringing them closer to their goal, and Perk found more or less joy in picturing the thrilling climax, when they would give Slippery Slim the surprise of his life—if only no leak concerning their clever plan had come about.
The moon had risen, and was hanging there in the east, a silvery shield with one edge clipped off telling that the queen of the night was already well past her “full” stage and running for a fall.
All at once Perk had an electric shock.