To tell the truth, I didn’t either. I wandered around the field, smoking a few reflective cigarets, and finally called up the sheriff. I told him the whole story, and he was satisfied that everything pointed to the fact that if he didn’t make a move everything was all right. I figured it was better, and so did he, that Shirley should never know the inside. Consequently, the Currans were not called up, and have not had the real dope to this day.
I finally went to sleep, but in the morning I was, of course, still thinking about one Ralph Kennedy. And for some funny reason I wasn’t sure of him—his sincerity, I mean. I was wondering whether there wasn’t some trick connected with his gesture of the night before. However, I thought it best, at breakfast—to which meal he did not lend his presence—to tell the boys the entire yarn, simply to offset the gossip that would run wild around McMullen. Mr. Curran, of course, would eventually spill the beans, and I wanted the gang to speak up, knowing the facts, and say whatever they deemed best. Furthermore, I had a funny idea that when Kennedy left, I didn’t want him to go in disgrace.
As the day wore on, I came to think more and more of this last flight stuff. All flyers are more or less superstitious about that. As a matter of fact, there have been a few, from Hobey Baker down, who’ve met their Waterloo on the last hop before they kissed the Air Service good-by. I had a sort of premonition that it shouldn’t be taken.
Consequently, when Kennedy ate bacon and eggs at lunch, with his eyes red, a hang-over sticking out all over him, I said:
“Listen, big boy, you’ve said you were leaving tonight and likewise that you were going to take a last jazz flight. You were drunk as a hoot owl last night, and I don’t think you’ll be in such good shape to fly this afternoon. Why not douse the idea of a hop?”
“Maybe you’ve got a good idea there,” he said with a grin that didn’t change the suffering eyes. “In fact, it’s probably the good old logic. Say, Peewee, how about you taking me for a ride, so nothing’ll happen?”
“Sure. I’ll go with you.”
I just happened to switch my gaze from one to the other, and I saw something. There were many experiences that they had gone through together in the past, which, naturally, had generated a certain feeling between them. But now each of them had discerned something in the other that transcended anything that they had previously known.
In short, I saw a man’s affection for another man shining from each pair of eyes.
The rest of the gang, knowing the entire situation, chimed in with a lot of Air Service kidding, about that last ride, as for instance, Sleepy Spears’ remark: