“We spent last night in the Colorado Canyon and have been covering all the ground possible ever since, flying low so as to keep tabs on the ground for as you might guess, we’re one of the many parties out searching high and low for Buddy Warner and his crate.”
“I reckoned you might be sir,” the superintendent of the field quickly remarked, displaying more or less sympathy in his voice.
“My pal and I have been thrown into the hunt by our employers like the rest of the bunch working the same racket,” continued Jack, diplomatically adding, “you see we happen to have run across a young woman pilot who had to make a forced landing down on the river sand in the canyon and it was absolutely necessary that we take her along with us. You can understand just why that could be when I tell you her name is Suzanne Cramer and that she is Buddy Warner’s sweetheart!”
Bart immediately displayed the most intense interest it seemed, just as wise Jack had figured out. He was a family man and in full sympathy with everything that had to do with the fortunes of honest, clean minded young people—for Jack knew there was a heap of truth in that old saying to the effect that “all the world loves a lover” and he was now playing the game for all it was worth.
“That’s mighty fine I must say, Mr. Ralston,” Bart said, for he had learned the names of the two airmen, “and I must say that girl is some daisy, to start off searching for her beau, and she an air pilot in the bargain. I’m tickled pink to have you all stay over in our little burg for even a night and if we can do anything to help you out just give me the tip and it’ll sure be done.”
That was just what Jack most wanted to hear. Before they took off again he was determined to do his best to get hold of some information that would prove of more or less value to himself and Perk.
“I’m meaning to ask you a few questions in the morning Mr. Hicks,” he hastened to say, “especially connected with the country to the east and northeast, for I figure the chances are three to one Buddy Warner must have made a forced landing of some sort in that quarter. The wind, the night he vanished, was blowing from the southwest and pretty gusty at times. Visibility was poor also, so if he lost connection with the beacons before reaching your station, he’d be blown off his course. Do you agree with me, sir?”
“I call it right smart reasoning,” Bart Hicks told him. “Three other ships dropped in here nights so as to save their gas and get some rest; and not one of the pilots seemed to know what course he ought to lay out—just kept swinging this way and that at random, hoping for a streak of good luck to strike them. I reckoned they were leaving a lot of ground uncovered, working without any system as they did.”
“That’s what I thought would happen,” continued Jack quietly, feeling that he had already made a good impression on the other and could hope for results when it came time to “squeeze the bag.” “We mean to devote ourselves to that particular locality so as to find out where he crashed and whether he is still alive or not.”
Bart Hicks gave a shrug with his broad shoulders.