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

About This Book

“Big smoke dead ahead, partner!” “I’ve been expecting to hear you announce that fact, Per—I mean Wally!” “Kinder guess naow it mout be Birmingham, eh, what, Boss?” “No other—you hit the nail on the head that time, Mr. Observer.” “Huh! my native town, which I’m naow agwine to see fur the fust time.” “Better get out of the habit of making such crazy cracks, brother—what if any one overheard you, and took a notion in his head you might be somebody other than just a Down-in-Dixie product from Alabama,—raised in the North, where you acquired a whiff of the dialect of a Canuck—and by name Wallace J....