Adventure Magazine Cover — page 49: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Lucky Crash inscrutability that had always kept Fitz- patrick an unknown quantity @én to his underlings; his rule over them more abso- lute for that very reason. “T thought-it would be a simple matter of getting him deeply in debt or something of that kind,” mused Fitzpatrick, his light eyes gazing unwinkingly into the soft blackness of the night. “It will be simple—but meanwhile I’m going to kill two birds with one shot. I’m going to make myself a for- tune—and that fortune is coming directly from the pockets of young MacDowell. Until then, he can probably hold his rank in the Army Air Service.” The notes of a guitar came through the softly whispering night as one of Fitzpat- rick’s Mexicans felt the call to indulge his soul in music. Searles rocked gently on his heels, giving no sign of his surprize at the manner in which his boss was confiding his plans. He wondered how Dave planned to make a fortune at the young flyer’s expense, but wisely held his peace for fear of breaking the mood of his chief. “T sent ‘Curly’ Barnes to McMullen— MacDowell is stationed with the border pa- trol flight there—to look over the land, find out what he could and report. He came back today. He got into a liquor-made friendship with a Sergeant Cary from Mac- Dowell’s outfit and the sergeant told Curly all about a new carburetor that Mac- Dewell and Cary himself have just about perfected. “T know little about mechanics, but Curly says the idea is that all aviation carburetors now have what he calls jets for the gas to go through. These jets are about as big as the head of a pin, and fifty per cent. of the forced landings they have in flying are be- cause these jet things get plugged with dirt or something in the gas. This carbu- retor has no jets. They built one and it worked fine. But there were a lot of new improvements so they’re building another now. MacDowell got the idea and Cary, being a good mechanic, worked it out. “They haven’t got any blueprints or any- thing—they’re just making one and plan to get the patents and stuff after they’ve got everything fixed right. Curley talked around various places and brought me a lot of engine books and things—and I can see that it’s bound to throw any jet carburetor out of the running. All I’ve got to do is 43 steal the model when they get it built— which will be next week sometime—rush the papers through and let Sallman up in Washington put it through the patent office.” Searles} imperturbable as he was, could hardly repress a start as Fitzpatrick men- tioned Sallman’s name so lightly. Sall- man was a power in the Administration— truly the lines that Fitzpatrick held led to high places. He wondered whether Fitz- patrick realized how much he was revealing after all the years of silence under the spur of his long-deferred desire for revenge. He rolled another cigaret and waited for the massive, seeminglyjlifeless figure in the chair to continue. “The question is,’ came the passionless voice of his chief: ‘‘Who is the best man to trust it to? What he will get when he suc- ceeds will be very satisfactory. What he will get if he falls down like Beers will be— plenty.”’ Searles got up and walked to the edge of the tiny porch, the high heels of his boots accentuating the awkwardness of his bow- legged rider’s walk. He spat deliberately and leaned against the wall. ‘“‘There’s only one man for the job, I’d say,’ he stated finally. ‘‘ ‘Weasel’ Wil- liams.”’ “That’s what I thought you’d say, and youre right. There’s a bunk ready for you in the room at the end of the mess-shack. Good night.” “Night, Dave.” ‘““And Searles!”’ Searles, who had started toward the near-by shack, turned. Fitzpatrick, still seated in exactly the attitude he had as- sumed at the start of the conversation let his ) pale eyes rest for a moment on the face of . his chief henchman. Searles, standing in the light shining through the open door, re- turned the coldly steady gaze without wavering. “Vou’re the only man I’ve met in twenty years that never talked too much. Don’t start now, Searles.” ““A habit as old as that one doesn’t break easily, Dave. So long.” Searles had many notches in his long- barreled old-fashioned six-shooters and he was as inscrutably calm as ever as he walked toward his bunk, but he was glad that he had been compelled to face his chief _ no longer than he had. (Ee) VOOKS (F@)