Flying the Coast Skyways: Or Jack Ralston's Swift Patrol

"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. Corkendell, though generally answering to plain Wally." "Hot-diggetty-dig that ere smoke cloud sure looks jest like an ole peasoup fog-pack we done got lost in not so far back. By gravy I doant b'lieve we'll even git one squint at the pesky city as we fly over the same