Aces Up
By
Covington Clarke
THE REILLY & LEE CO.
CHICAGO NEW YORK
ACES UP
COPYRIGHT 1929
BY
THE REILLY & LEE CO.
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
“By the shore of life and the There are more things waiting |
13ACES UP
CHAPTER I
The New Instructor
1
Tex Yancey, called “The Flying Fool” by his comrades in the–th Pursuit Squadron of the American Expeditionary Force, entered the messhall with lips pressed into a thin, mirthless grin that seemed entirelyinappropriate in one who was thirty minutes late to mess and must therefore makeout with what was left. The other members of the squadron had finished theirmeal and were now engaged in the usual after-dinner practice of spinning sometall yarns.
Yancey stalked slowly to his place at the long table, but instead of seatinghimself stood with hands thrust deep into his pockets and with his long, thinlegs spread wide apart. For a full minute he stood there, seeming to be mildlyinterested in the tale that Hank Porter was telling. But those who knew Tex, asdid the members of this squadron, knew that the cynical smile on his thin lipswas but the forerunner 14of some mirthless thing from which only “TheFlying Fool” would be able to wring a laugh. His was such a grotesquesense of humor; a highly impractical practical joke was his idea of a riotoustime. Someone in the squadron, who had once felt the sting of one of his pranks,had called him a fool, and another member had responded, “Yeah, he’sa fool, all right–but a flyin’ fool!” The tribute had become anickname, and Yancey rather reveled in it.
Just now his smile was masking some grim joke and his eyes held the mildlight of pity.
“Well, Hank,” he drawled at last, when Porter had wound up hisstory, “that yarn, as much as I get of it, would lead the averagehombre to pick you out as a sho’ ’nuff flyer. I would myself. Me,I’m easy fooled that way. I reckon all you buckaroos think you knowsomethin’ about flyin’, eh?”
Standing a full six feet two, he looked down upon them, the look of pitystill in his eyes in strange conflict with the mirthless smile still on hislips.
“What’s eatin’ you?” Porter growled. “Wecan’t help it because you’re late for mess. Where’ve youbeen?”
Siddons and Hampden, not greatly interested in what they felt was some newstrained humor on Yancey’s part, pushed back from the table and startedfor the door, their objective being the French town of Is Sur Tille.
15Yancey waiteduntil they were near the door before he answered Porter.
“Oh, I’ve just been over to Is Sur Tille havin’ a look-seeat this new instructor that’s comin’ down here to teach us how tofly.”
Siddons, with his hand upon the door, wheeled abruptly and studiedYancey’s face, trying to discover the jest hidden behind that baffling,masking smile.
“Are