“Just that, as sure as you live, partner,” said Jack, composedly; but if he could take it so coolly, not so his right bower who showed signs of extreme excitement and satisfaction, for he thrust out his hand, that had so often been an object of vast respect on the part of some welter weight boxer, and insisted that Jack accept a gentle shake.
“We’re sure Fortune’s favorites,” Perk was saying, striking an attitude as he thus proudly spoke; “an’ with such luck hoverin’ over our heads I vow all the Lower Regions with its devils can’t prevail against us. But see here, old hoss, there’s more than chance in this break o’ the party who broke through Scotty’s door, and panned all his traps—I guess now he must have missed a cylinder, an’ jest passed us by in a ground loop.”
Jack was accustomed to the other’s quaint way of expressing himself, for he lost no time in adding:
“About that way, I take it, Perk. And if what we suspect turns out to be true, it stands to reason there’s some sort of big combine back of it all.”
“With this same Slippery Slim Garrabrant pulling the wires for the whole bunch, is that what you mean, Jack?” demanded the other flyer quickly; for when once set on the right track Perk’s mind could travel speedily enough.
“It’s certainly his brain that’s built up this wide flim-flam trade in the make believe green stuff that’s been fooling a whole lot of bank tellers, it’s so near the genuine article. To smash the combine we’ve got to check up on Slim; after he’s caged the entire arrangement’s bound to fall through.”
“I get you, partner; and them’s my sentiments every time,” admitted the eager Perk. “And here, when we’re starting out to pull off our fresh stunt, I’m wishing all the luck that’s going to our little game. Meaning to give her a last checking over, eh, Jack?”
“It’s a habit of mine, as you know, Perk; and you might amuse yourself stowing the cargo we’ve taken aboard, so’s to let us have room for our feet when we take off. From the looks of the junk you picked up anybody’d reckon we planned to go into camp for a week or two.”
“Well, mebbe that’s what’ll happen to us before we strike pay dirt in this ticklish job,” asserted Perk, stoutly. “You know we figgered things out, and made up our minds this same slick article of a Slim might have his hangout over the line in Old Mexico, where he prints his bad bills, and then comes across the line with a big bunch in his ship, so’s to scatter the stuff around to his agents in Texas and Arizona, or it might be all through Southern California. If that guess turns out to be a bullseye we might be away off the line of travel for days at a stretch, and a grub stake’d turn the trick okay, I’m thinking, boss.”
Jack made no reply, for he was already busily engaged in looking over his crate. This was, as he had mentioned, an old habit, contracted in the early days of his career as an aviator of sorts; and most likely such extreme caution had saved his life more than once.