Summary

Ambrose Newcomb Flying the Coast Skyways; Or, Jack Ralston's Swift Patrol

From all the indications Jack had already guessed the smugglers were on nettles and pins concerning the meaning of the late disasters that had struck their hitherto smooth running machine—they had been turning their heads this way and that, as if uneasy, casting frequent anxious glances toward the big and costly airship (that undoubtedly had only lately become a regular visitor at the rendezvous camp) , as if tempted to believe it too might suddenly burst into flames, as though some mysterious and powerful electrical ray were at work, bringing destruction in its wake.
Source: Gutenberg

Ambrose Newcomb Flying the Coast Skyways; Or, Jack Ralston's Swift Patrol

Not the ghost of a sound of passing vapor came to Perk’s strained ears as the boat picked up a certain amount of speed, heading directly for the near-by river, which Jack had called the Yamasaw. Perk could hardly believe there could be such a thing as throttling the noisy clamor he had always associated with the passage of a motorboat, usually heard over the water from a distance of several miles. Truly the wizards must be hard at work these days, performing near-miracles right and left—first the aircraft’s noisy discharge conquered; and now the humble powerboat reduced to absolute submission.
Source: Gutenberg

Ambrose Newcomb Flying the Coast Skyways; Or, Jack Ralston's Swift Patrol

Such confidence in a comrade bordered on the sublime, yet according to his light Perk felt he was justified in believing Jack to be at the head of his class—without a peer, yet modest withal, shrinking from praise, and content to let the heroes of unsurpassed air flights, as well as all manner of broken records for speed, endurance, and like exploits, bask in the spotlight, while he was satisfied to do his full duty, and afterwards remain unknown to fame.
Source: Gutenberg

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