He leaned convulsively forward and gripped his mate by the shoulder, at the same time pointing toward the southeast and shouting through the head phones:
“Look, oh look—see what’s passing across the moon, Jack!”
Then just as suddenly did he release his clutch, to fall back in his seat, and exclaim most dramatically, with a touch of disgust in his voice:
“Shucks! It’s slipped past, dang the luck!”
“But I got it all right, Perk,” the pilot assured him.
“Then it was a ship, an’ my lamps didn’t fool me, partner?” Perk cried in renewed excitement.
“As sure as you’re born, that’s what it was, brother,” Jack added.
“Headin’ south, same as we’re doin’ right now, eh, Jack?”
“You said it, buddy—just what the crate was doing, Perk.”
“What’s the answer—could it a been him, on his way back home with a load o’ machine guns, life they say he carries every time he crosses the border, after takin’ out a freshly printed batch o’ his flimsy stuff to soak on the honest folks back home?”