Читать книгу Mark Gilmore, Speed Flyer - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 5

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Benson was bruised and uncomfortably water-soaked but that was all. He was able to get off his clothes and able to wrap himself in a blanket cheerfully proffered by Mark, but he was unable to be genuinely thankful for his timely rescue. Instead he could find voice only to denounce and complain.

“’S too hot in here,” he said, sullenly glancing about the trim little cabin. “No wonder I cracked up—if I’d of known I was anywheres near you I’d of swung for south and throttled her to the limit instead of tryin’ to keep on my course and beatin’ the fog. Even Lindbergh couldn’t break your jinx—I might o’ known it was you!”

Mark winked at the bewildered Arty, then turned to Benson. “One thing at a time, Richie,” he said good-naturedly. “As for the heat—our clothes have to dry, mine as well as yours, you know. And as for you cracking up—I’m sorry.” He chuckled softly. “I’d have got out of your way if I’d known it was you, too. I’m not keen about being around a fellow who dislikes me as you seem to. And as for that jinx idea of yours—it’s crazy. You simply don’t like me, that’s all. Why don’t you say so and be done with it?”

Benson frowned. “Why is it I’ve cracked up twice now when I’ve been flyin’ in your neighborhood, hey?” he returned hoarsely. “Do you say that doesn’t look like you’re the jinx?”

“You mean you’re the jinx, Benson!” Arty spoke up indignantly. “Not only that, but it seems to me you’re a pretty sour sort of guy—sour and ungrateful. Red didn’t ask you to try and beat the fog. Besides, do you suppose it was a pink tea for him to ship down after you? All he thought about was that maybe you were sizzling in your crate down here. And for all the gratitude he doesn’t get it’s a pity you didn’t sizzle!”

“Who’s ungrateful?” Benson grumbled. “Anyway, he didn’t take such a risk shipping down after me. Not Mark. That guy could ship through a tornado and land on velvet in an airport. He’s lucky. Lucky for himself,” he added with a sardonic smile.

Arty got up and thumped toward the cockpit, disgusted. If his first impression of Benson was destined to be a lasting one, it did not augur well for the future. And Mark, temperamental and sensitive to the extreme, was aware of a strange sense of foreboding, feeling that the gods meant Richie to be part of that unknown future. What adventure they had prepared he could not guess.

Mark draped his partly unclothed figure in a tarpaulin and flumped himself down in a seat facing Benson. He grinned broadly and flung his rebellious blond locks back in place with a vigorous shake of the head.

“Well, Richie,” he said, pleasantly, “there’s no use denying I was surprised to find out you were the victim. No doubt you were just as surprised, huh?”

“Sure, I was. I ain’t no mind reader. I didn’t know it was you swimmin’ toward me any more than I knew I was going to crack up in this forsaken place—where are we?”

“Missouri, Sweetness,” Arty hissed from the cockpit. He did not turn around. “We were five thousand one hundred and ten feet, wind north and northwest and the visibility wasn’t bad until we had the hard luck of seeing you. Talk about the jinx....”

“Pipe down, Aylesworth,” Benson growled. “Since when did I ask you for your two cents in my business, hah!”

Arty’s answer was a dark, withering glance over his shoulder. “I’m only interested in Red, Benson,” he added severely; “your business means absolutely nothing to me. I don’t like you enough—in fact, I don’t like you at all!”

Benson shrugged his broad shoulders and frowned. “Who cares anyway?” he mumbled.

Mark tapped the back of the seat with his fingers. “Quit bickering, Rich—I’ve wasted enough time already. I’m due in Dawson City before midnight and I’m late now. Where were you heading for when your crate started acting up?”

Benson smiled slowly. “So you’re going to Dawson City, hah? Funny, that’s just where I was headed for! I’ve got me a swell job with the Dawson-Inland Airlines.”

“Well,” Mark smiled, “some coincidence! I’m to claim a job from Art’s father, president of Inter-Mountain Airways. We’re both in luck, huh?” He turned toward Arty and saw that that person had completely turned about and was staring at them both from the cockpit.

“Did I hear you right, Benson?” Arty asked. “Did you say you were going to work for the Dawson-Inland?”

“Sure—why? You don’t look none too happy about it. What’s the matter with Dawson-Inland?”

Arty bit his lip. “You’ll know after you get to Dawson City and speak to Daly Rumson. He’s your boss.... Oh yes, I suppose you do know that. Well, you’ll know more after you talk with Rumson—he’ll soon tell you. And after he gets through telling you—you can tell him that I said he was an unscrupulous competitor of my father. We have no use for him for very good reasons.”

“Because he’s a competitor of your father’s?” asked Benson with a sarcastic smile.

“No, because of his methods in business. Just now we happen to be suspicious of him because he wants the government mail contract. So do we. My father wants it to stimulate business not only for the company but for the good of Dawson City in general. Rumson wants the contract for strictly personal reasons, or I’ll miss my guess. You see my family have known him for years and he’s never done a strictly honest thing in all that time. It’s no secret with the home folks, but Rumson doesn’t care—never did care. That’s the man you’re going to work for.”

Benson laughed. “That’s my business, Aylesworth,” he sneered. “What’s more, it doesn’t interest me what you or anybody else thinks about him—see! He’s going to pay me a nice fat salary and that’s all that counts.”

“Suppose it means risking your ‘rep’?” Mark asked. “What then?”

“Aw, you make me sick, Mark,” came the reply.

“Don’t I know it,” said Mark calmly. “Just the same, I’m giving you warning, Richie—you’ve heard what Art had to say about this Rumson. You want to be careful if only for your mother’s sake.”

“Why should you care about his mother?” Arty interposed hotly.

“Because I’ve known her since I was a little kid,” Mark replied. “You see, Art, Richie and I were brought up within a block of each other. A fellow’s bound to have some sentiment about a thing like that, especially when both of us learned to fly together and got our first jobs together with the East Coast people. The only trouble with our friendship, Rich’s always had a chip on his shoulder about me. It’s been a sort of one-sided affair.”

“And why not?” Richie returned complainingly. “Ever since I can remember, you’ve been trackin’ my heels and givin’ me your old woman’s advice.”

Mark smiled quietly. “I’ve never given you anything but good advice, Rich,” he said pleasantly. “And boy, that’s something you’re always needing! I’ve not got your hot head, remember, and I can see trouble quicker than you—that’s why I’ve always tracked at your heels. If you want to know it—your mother made me promise to keep an eye out for you, no matter what happened. And I promised.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’ve been out of knee pants quite a few years and I ain’t knucklin’ down to that kind of thing now, mother or not. What does she think I am; an infant? And who does she think you are, hah? Solomon? That hands me a big laugh.”

“I’d rather see you laugh than the usual frown you wear, Rich,” Mark said seriously, “but don’t laugh until you know what it’s all about. Your mother happens to know you very well, also she knows me and while I don’t flatter myself that she’s ever thought of comparing me with Solomon, she knows I’ve been level-headed enough to get you out of several scrapes. You would have been out of East Coast six months ago if I hadn’t smoothed things over with the manager about that Midland Airline business.”

Arty turned about once more. “You mean to tell me that Benson here was the egg who was mixed up in that business?”

Mark nodded. “Did the manager tell you?”

“Sure. I had to find out what kind of a pilot I was hiring for dad and I told the manager to tell me what he knew about you both. Benson didn’t have the promise of Rumson’s job then, I guess. Anyway, your former boss gave you a clean bill, Mark. But he said he couldn’t say the same thing about Richie, here. It seems that Sweetness was accused of selling some promising freight contracts to a rival airline—The Midland Airline.”

“Yeah, and why did I!” Benson retorted blatantly. “The East Coast people paid me a rotten salary, that’s why. No guy should be blamed if he wants to make some extra change. Anyway, I should worry now. The Midland people didn’t forget me. I got this job through them—Rumson has some interest in it.”

“Oh,” Mark breathed. “That kind of throws some light on things.”

“I’ll say it does,” Arty said quickly. “Rumson even picks his pilots, hey? Well, Benson, considering everything, you ought to fit in the job like a glove.”

Mark spread his hands entreatingly. “Listen Richie, Arty’s right. Don’t you see? Rumson has a bad name. You did something not entirely honest in their favor. What could they want you for then, huh? Nothing honest, you may be certain of that.”

“Saint Mark,” Richie sneered. “What of it if it ain’t so honest, hah? This is one time when you can’t poke your nose in my business—see? I’m paddlin’ my own canoe and once we’re in Dawson City, I’m goin’ my way and you go yours. If you don’t it’ll be your funeral and that’s no joke.”

“All right,” said Mark, jumping up decisively. “Our clothes must be dry—we’ll get going. How about a smoke first, huh?”

Richie took the proffered cigarette, smiling. As Mark held a match to it, Arty said, “Is this supposed to be a sort of peace smoke?”

“No, not exactly,” Mark answered chuckling. “This is a kind of toast to Richie’s business—here’s hoping it will always be mine.”

Benson glared but said nothing and Arty instinctively felt that sometime, some day, he would have an answer for Mark and when it came there would be more than angry words.