"Sharp curve ahead!" sang out McGlory, heaving a deep breath of relief as the car continued to slow down.
Matt saw the sharp turn in the track where it rounded a shoulder of rock. Naturally he could not see around the turn, and he was speculating as to whether their reduced speed would be sufficient to throw the speeder off the rails at the bend, or whether the car would make it safely.
Before his calculations had been brought to an end, the problem was working itself out.
The speeder struck the curve, whirled around it with a shrieking of flanges against the rails, and then there went up a wild yell from McGlory and Bunce.
Directly in front of the car was a tie across the track!
A collision with the tie was inevitable. Matt foresaw it, and clung desperately to his bench.
"Brace yourselves!" he yelled.
The next moment they struck the tie.
The jolt was terrific. Motor Matt was thrown roughly against the seat in front, and Bunce went into the air as though shot from a gun.
TRAPPED.
Matt saw that McGlory had managed, like himself, to stay with the car, then both motor boys had a flash-light glimpse of the mariner ricochetting through the atmosphere and striking earth right side up by the track. But Bunce did not remain in an upright position. The force with which he had been thrown launched him into a series of eccentric cartwheels, and when he finally stopped turning he was in a sitting posture, with his back against a bowlder.
Apparently he had escaped serious injury, which was a remarkable fact, in view of the circumstances. A broken neck might easily have resulted, or, at the least, a fractured arm or leg.
"Shiver me!" gasped Bunce, dazed and bewildered by the suddenness of it all.
Then Motor Matt's and McGlory's shocked senses laid hold of another detail of the situation which was most astounding.
The green patch had been shaken from the mariner's head, and he was peering around him with two good eyes!
"Tell me about that!" roared McGlory, pointing. "Look at his lamps, Matt! He's got two!"
"I see," answered Matt grimly. "Suppose we approach closer, Joe, and find out about this."
Bunce watched the boys descend from the speeder and advance upon him, but there was still a dazed gleam in his eyes which proved that he was slow in recovering his wits.
"Are you all right, Bunce?" asked Matt, reaching the mariner's side and bending down.
"That—that craft must have—have turned a handspring," mumbled Bunce. "Purty tolerable blow we had, mates, an' I was snatched away from the bench, an' tossed overboard. It was done so quick I—I hardly knowed what was goin' on. By the seven holy spritsails! it's a wonder I'm shipshape an' all together." He got up slowly and began feeling gingerly of his arms and legs. "Nothin' busted, I guess," he added.
The ground where he had landed was cushioned with sand. To this fact, more than to anything else, he owed his escape from injury.
McGlory picked up the green patch.
"Here's an ornament you dropped during that ground-and-lofty tumbling, you old tinhorn," said he. "What did you wear it for, anyhow?"
"Blow me tight!" exclaimed Bunce, staring at the patch with falling jaw. "Ain't that reedic'lous?" he added, with a feeble attempt to treat the matter lightly.
"It is rather ridiculous, Bunce, and that's a fact," answered Matt. "You've a pair of very good eyes, it seems to me, and what's the good of that patch?"
The mariner grabbed the bit of green cloth and pulled the string over his head.
"I never said I'd lost one o' my lamps," he averred, settling the patch in place. "Off Table Mountain, South Africy, a cable parted on the oleHottentot, an' I was hit in the eye with a loose rope's end. For a while, I thought I was goin' blind. But I didn't, only the eye has been weak ever sence, an' needs purtection. That's why I wear the patch."
"You've got it over the wrong eye, Bunce," observed McGlory. "You've been wearing it over the left eye, and now it's over the right. Have you got any clear notion which eye was hit with that rope's end?"
Bunce hastily changed the position of the patch.
"I'm that rattled," said he, "that I'm all ahoo, an' don't rightly know what I'm about. I——"
For an instant he stared up the track, breaking off his words abruptly; then, without any further explanation, he whirled and rushed for the timber.
With a yell of anger, McGlory started after him.
"Come back, Joe!" shouted Matt. "Here come some men who seem to have business with us."
The cowboy whirled to an about face, and followed with his eyes the direction of his chum's pointing finger.
Four men in flannel shirts and overalls, and carrying spades, picks, and tamping irons, were hurrying up the track in the direction of the curve.
"The section gang!" muttered McGlory.
"A good guess," laughed Matt. "We've been trapped."
"Trapped?"
"That's the way it looks to me. We were seen coming down the mountain and those men, recognizing the speeder, laid the tie across the rails to catch the thieves."
"Sufferin' kiboshes, but here's a go! This comes of trying to fill the bill for an old tinhorn like Bunce."
"Ketched!" yelled one of the approaching men, flourishing a tamping iron; "we've ketched the robbers that run off with Mulvaney's speeder! Don't you make notrouble," he added, slowing his pace and coming more warily.
The other three men spread out and then closed in, barring escape for the motor boys in every direction.
"You've made a mistake," said Matt.
"Oh, sure!" jeered the section boss, "but I reckon we'll take ye to Catskill, an' let ye tell the superintendent all about the mistake."
"Don't be in a rush about taking us to Catskill," threatened McGlory. "You listen to what Motor Matt says, and I reckon he'll make the layout clear to you."
"Motor Matt!" returned the boss ironically. "Why don't ye say ye're the governor o' the State, or somethin' like that? Ye might jest as well. Motor Matt ain't stealin' speeders an' runnin' off with 'em."
The king of the motor boys had become pretty well known in the Catskills through his previous work in recovering the ruby for Tsan Ti. Even these section men had heard of his exploits. Matt, seeing the impression his cowboy pard's words had made, resolved to prove his identity in the hope of avoiding trouble.
"What my chum says is true, men," he declared. "I am Motor Matt. We didn't steal the railroad speeder. That was done by the man who was with us—the fellow who ran away. You saw him, didn't you?"
"Sure we saw him," answered the section boss, "but I wouldn't try to put it all off onto him, if I was you."
"Sufferin' blockheads!" rumbled McGlory. "Use your brains, if you've got any, can't you? Do we look like thieves?"
"Can't most always tell from a feller's looks what he is," returned the boss skeptically. "And this other chap can't be Motor Matt, nuther, or he wouldn't have stole the speeder. That there speeder has been missin' for three days, an' orders has gone out, up an' down the line, for all hands to watch out for it. When I seen it comin' down the grade, I knowed we had ye. All we done was to throw that tie acrost the track, an' the trick was done. Ye'll have to go to Catskill, that's all about it."
"Are you men from Catskill?" inquired Matt.
"No, Tannersville, but Catskill's the place you're wanted. We'll put ye on the passenger, when it comes along."
"But we don't want to go back to Catskill just yet," Matt demurred. "We've got business here, and it can't be put off."
Matt believed that Bunce had run to get away from the section men, who, he must have realized, had caused the speeder's mishap in the hope of catching the ones who had stolen the car. There was yet a chance, Matt thought, to overhaul Bunce and find Grattan. To go back to Catskill, just then, would have been disastrous to the work he and McGlory were trying to do under the mariner's leadership.
"Sure ye don't want to go to Catskill," went on the section boss, "right now, or any other time. But ye're goin', all the same. Grab 'em, you men," and the boss shouted the order to the three who had grouped themselves around Matt and McGlory.
"Hands off!" shouted the cowboy.
Matt saw him jerk the revolver from his pocket, and aim it at the man who was reaching to lay hold of him. The man fell back with an oath of consternation.
"Don't do that, Joe!" cried Matt.
"Oh, no," sneered the boss, "you fellers ain't thieves, I guess! What're you pullin' a gun on us for, if ye ain't?"
"I'm not going to argue the case with you any further," Matt answered shortly. "We're going back to Catskill after a while, but not now. When we get there we'll report to your superintendent and explain how we happened to be aboard the stolen speeder. I was intending to return the car to the railroad company as soon as we had got through with it, and then——"
"Sure ye was!" mocked the boss. "Ye wasn't intendin' to do anythin' but what was right an' lawful—to hear ye tell it. We got ye trapped, an' I ain't goin' to fool with ye any longer. Put down that gun, you!" and he whirled savagely upon McGlory. "We're goin' to take ye, an' if you do any shootin' ye'll find yerselves in a deeper hole than what ye are now."
"You keep away from me," scowled McGlory, still holding the weapon leveled, "and keep your men away from me. Try to touch either of us, and this gun will begin to talk. We're not thieves, but that's something we can't pound into your thick head, so we're going to attend to our business in spite of you."
The section boss was a man of courage, and was resolute in his intention to take the boys to Catskill. Certainly, so far as appearances went, he had the right of the matter, and Matt didn't feel that he could explain the exact situation with any chance of having his words believed.
"Here's where I'm comin' for ye," proceeded the section boss, "an' if you shoot, you'll be tagged with more kinds o' trouble than you can take care of. Now——"
The section boss got no farther. Just at that moment the rumble of a train coming up the grade could be heard. Instantly the attention of the section boss was called to another matter.
"The passenger!" he cried, jumping around and staring at the speeder and the tie. "There'll be a wreck if we don't clear the track. Come on, men! Hustle!"
The peril threatening the passenger train banished from the minds of the section men all thought of the boys. All four of the gang ran to remove the obstructions from the rails.
"Come on, pard!" said McGlory; "now's our chance."
Matt, with a feeling of intense relief, bounded after his chum, and they were soon well away in the timber.
THE CUT-OUT UNDER THE LEDGE.
McGlory was inclined to view recent events in a humorous light.
"Speak to me about that, pard!" he laughed, when he and Matt had halted for breath, and to determine, if possible, which way Bunce had gone. "I told you what was on the programme if you became trustee for the Eye of Buddha. We never know when lightning's going to strike, or how."
"I don't like episodes of that sort," muttered Matt. "It puts us in a bad light, Joe."
"Oh, hang that part of it! We can explain the whole thing to the railroad superintendent as soon as we get back to Catskill. That section boss was a saphead. Youcouldn't pound any reason into his block with a sledge hammer. Forget it!"
"But you drew a gun on the section men. That makes the business look bad for us."
McGlory chuckled. "See here, pard," said he. With that, he "broke" the revolver and exposed the end of the cylinder.
There were no cartridges in the weapon!
"Now, what do you think?" laughed the cowboy. "I borrowed the gun in a hurry, and didn't think to ask whether it was loaded—and I reckon the hotel clerk didn't think to tell me. It's about as dangerous as a piece of bologna sausage, but it looks ugly—and that's about all there is to this revolver proposition, anyhow."
Matt enjoyed the recent experience, in which the harmless revolver had played its part, fully as much as his chum.
"Well," said the king of the motor boys, "what's done can't be helped, and we'd better be about our business with Bunce. But what's become of the mariner? He ought to be around here, somewhere."
"He's ducked," returned McGlory, "and I'll bet it's for good. We've found out he had a pair of good eyes, and he's got shy of us."
"If we don't find him," mused Matt, "it's a clear case that he was playing double with us. If we do find him, then we can take a little more stock in what he tells us about Tsan Ti. It will be worth something to feel sure, either way."
"Maybe you're right, but how are we going to pick up the webfoot's trail?"
Matt studied the ground. The earth was soft from a recent rain, and the fact gave him an idea.
"Track him, Joe. You're used to that sort of thing. Put your knowledge to some account."
"In order to track the mariner," said McGlory, "we'll have to go back to the place where we saw him duck into the timber. It'll be a tough job, but I'm willing to try if we can once pick up the trail."
"That's the only thing for us to do. If Bunce was intending to deal squarely with us, he'd have shown himself before this."
"Let's see," mused the cowboy. "He said that Grattan was hiding out about five miles from Catskill, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Then I reckon the place is somewhere around here. We're about five miles from the town, I should judge. Still," and disgust welled up in the cowboy as he voiced the thought, "you can't tell whether Bunce was giving that part of it straight, or not. He's about as crooked as they make 'em, that tinhorn."
The boys, during their talk, had been moving slowly back in the direction of the railroad track. Cautiously they came to the edge of the timber, close to the right of way, on the alert not only for the tracks left by Bunce, but for the presence of the section men, as well.
The section gang, they discovered, had left the vicinity of the sharp curve, and were nowhere in sight. The speeder, badly shaken by the jar of its collision with the tie, was off the rails, and the tie lay beside it.
"No sign of the section men," announced Matt, after a careful survey of the track.
"Mighty good thing for us, too, pard," said McGlory. "Here's Bunce's trail, and he traveled so fast he only hit the ground with his toes. Come on! I can run it out for a ways, anyhow."
McGlory's life on the cattle ranges had made him particularly apt in the lore of the plains. The trail was very dim in places, but even the disturbed leaves under the trees, and the broken bushes told McGlory where the mariner had passed.
The course taken by Bunce led across a timbered "flat" and down into a rocky ravine, then along the ravine to a ledge of rock which jutted out from a side hill. The under side of the ledge was perhaps a dozen feet over the bottom of the ravine, and under it was a sort of "pocket" in the hill.
Here there were evidences of a primitive camp. The soft earth under the ledge was trampled by human feet, and there was a large, five-gallon can that had once held gasoline, but which was now empty. A small mound of dried leaves had been heaped up at the innermost recess of the "pocket," and the bed still bore the faint impression of a man's body.
"Bunce was right about Grattan being in hiding near Catskill," observed Matt. "Here's the place, sure enough."
"And Bunce came here, pard," went on McGlory; "he made tracks straight for this hang-out as soon as he got clear of us. Judging from what we see, I should say Bunce met Grattan, and that they both hurried off. But what was that gasoline for?"
"For the speeder, maybe," replied Matt.
"They wouldn't keep the gasoline supply for the speeder so far from the track, would they?"
"I shouldn't think so; still, I can't imagine what else they'd want gasoline for."
"What sort of a game was Bunce up to? If Grattan was here, then everything was going right, so far as the plan to capture Grattan was concerned. Why didn't Bunce wait for us, back there in the timber, and give us the chance to come on here and put the kibosh on the man we want?"
"It's a mystery, Joe," said the puzzled Matt. "Perhaps Bunce believed that we'd be captured by the section men and that it wouldn't be possible to get hold of Grattan. If he thought that, he might have come on to this place, given his New York report to Grattan, and made up his mind to see the rascally game through to a finish. Bunce couldn't have any idea that we'd escape from the section gang."
"Well," growled McGlory, "he might have waited and made certain of it."
There was no accounting for the queer actions of the mariner. It seemed as though, after the collision with the railroad tie and the coming of the section men, he had changed his mind about helping the boys capture Grattan.
Matt and McGlory moved around under the ledge, trying to find something else that would point positively to the presence of Grattan in the "pocket."
There was a strong odor of gasoline—much stronger than would have come from the uncorked, empty can. Suddenly Matt found something, and hurriedly called his chum.
"What is it?" inquired McGlory, running to Matt's side.
Matt pointed to two straight lines in the earth, leading out and up the ravine.
"Motorcycles," said he laconically, "two of them!"
McGlory struck his fist against his open palm.
"Well, what do you think of that!" he cried. "Motorcycles and speeders! Say, those tinhorns were well fixed in the motor line. And Bunce told us both motorcycles had been destroyed! Sufferin' Ananias, but he's a tongue twister!"
"There's no doubt but that Grattan was here," went on Matt, "and that he had the two motorcycles with him. The gasoline was used to fill the motorcycles' tanks. As soon as Bunce got to this place, the wheels were made ready and Bunce and Grattan rode off."
"They're headed for New York, I reckon, to 'fill the bill' for poor old Tsan Ti!"
"I don't believe it," declared Matt. "I didn't take much stock in the story when Bunce told it, but on the chance that it might be true, I felt as though we should give Tsan Ti the benefit of the doubt. But, now, I'm fairly certain the yarn was all moonshine."
"Bunce took a whole lot of trouble for nothing, pard," commented McGlory. "What was the good of his coming to the hotel, running the risk of our turning him over to the police, and then motoring out here with us on that ramshackle speeder if he never intended to help us capture Grattan?"
"Maybe we'll discover that later. Suppose we follow the trail of the motorcycles, Joe?"
"Why? They're a dozen miles from here, by this time."
"We can't overtake them, of course, but we can discover which way they went."
It was an easy matter to trail the heavy machines up the ravine. About half a mile above the camp under the ledge, a wagon road crossed the ravine, and the wheels had turned into it. To the surprise of the boys, the wheels had turned in the direction of Catskill.
"It can't be those two tinhorns would have the nerve to go to the town," said McGlory.
"I don't think they would," agreed Matt, "but they have gone in that direction, at all events. It's up to us to walk back, so we may as well follow the road and the motorcycle trail."
"This is what I call tough luck," said the cowboy, when he and Matt were swinging along the road. "I didn't think there was any sense taking up with Bunce, in the first place. Nice way for that move to pan out! We go gunning for Grattan on a speeder, and then hoof it back—to face a charge of robbery preferred by the section men!"
"We'll settle that robbery charge quick enough," returned Matt.
"No doubt about that. I wouldn't feel so worked up over the thing if I could make any sort of guess as to what it was all about."
"Well," laughed Matt, repeating one of McGlory's favorite remarks, "we can't know so much all the time as we do just some part of the time, Joe."
"No more we can't, pard," said the cowboy.
BETWEEN THE EYES.
The wagon road which the boys were following led them into Catskill near the railroad station. The motorcycle tracks, after holding a straight course toward town for a long time, had finally vanished at an elevated point from which the motor boys had secured their first view of the river.
"We might just as well call on the superintendent," suggested Matt, when they were close to the station, "and explain about the speeder. By doing this now, we may dodge trouble later."
"Good idea," assented McGlory.
They found the superintendent in his office, and he gave them an immediate hearing.
"We called to tell you about that speeder, Mr. Bronson," began Matt, having caught the super's name off the painted window in the door.
"You mean Mulvaney's speeder," returned Bronson, "the one that was stolen two days ago?"
"Yes. My name's King, Matt King, and I'm stopping at the——"
"Motor Matt?" interrupted Bronson, whirling squarely around in his swivel chair. He had suddenly developed a great interest in the interview.
"Yes," laughed Matt, "I'm called that more often than I'm called by my last name. This is my chum, Joe McGlory," and he nodded toward the cowboy.
"I've heard of both of you," smiled Bronson. "That was great business of yours, over near Purling. But what in the world have you got to tell me about the stolen speeder?"
"Then you haven't heard about what happened this morning?"
"Haven't heard a thing about the speeder to-day. Why?"
"Well, Joe and I and another fellow were chasing down a grade with it, a few miles out of town, and a section gang from Tannersville saw us coming and put a tie across the rails."
"That stopped you, did it?"
"Did it!" echoed McGlory. "Why, it stopped us so hard and quick that one of the passengers was scattered all over the right of way."
"We hadn't anything to do with stealing the machine," went on Matt, "and we didn't——"
"Of course not!" struck in Bronson. "But where did you get it, and what were you doing with it?"
"You heard how the great ruby was recovered, and how the thieves got away?"
The superintendent's eyes sparkled.
"Everybody around here has heard about that," he answered.
"We thought we had a chance to capture one of the thieves," proceeded Matt. "The crook's pal came to us and offered to show us where Grattan was, and when we joined the fellow this morning, he had the speeder tucked away among the bushes. We knew the speeder had been stolen, and were intending to bring it back as soon as we had finished our work; but the section gang made things so warm for us we had to change our plans."
"And now you're fretting for fear the section men will send in word, and that I'll have you pinched!" laughed the superintendent. "I guess I'd think twice before I had Motor Matt arrested for stealing an old speeder like that. Mulvaney, our track inspector, made it himself. He's rather choice of it, and that's why I sent out word to have the thing found, if possible. But, tell me, did you capture Grattan?"
"No, sir. We found where he has been staying, but he had got away before we reached the place."
"Hard luck! By the way, they've got a moving picture in one of the nickelodeons here, that tells the story of a ruby called 'Buddha's Eye.' Everybody is going to see it. Is that the same story as the one connected with the 'Eye of Buddha?'"
"It's the same, Mr. Bronson, even down to the minor detail of the identity of the thieves."
Bronson whistled.
"How in the dickens does that happen, eh?" he asked.
Matt could see no harm in explaining that point, as Bunce had covered it, and told how the thieves, needing money in Chicago, had suggested the idea for the picture, and how at least one of them had volunteered to play a leading part.
The superintendent was astounded at the audacity of a thief who, after perpetrating such a successful robbery, and with the ruby then in his possession, could publish his crime through the medium of a moving picture.
"It merely goes to prove," said the superintendent, "what a clever and daring scoundrel this fellow Grattan is. Too bad he escaped at the time the ruby was so cleverly recovered. More than likely, Motor Matt, he'll make trouble for you."
"I guess he'll be too busy looking out for himself," laughed Matt, "to pay any attention to me."
"I hope so, certainly."
Matt and McGlory got up to leave.
"Don't bother your head about the speeder," the superintendent went on. "I'm glad your report reached me ahead of the one from the section gang. I'll know how to handle the matter, now, when I hear from the section boss. Good-by, my lads, and good luck to you."
"It didn't take long to fix that up," said McGlory, when he and Matt were once more on their way to the hotel.
"I knew it wouldn't," returned Matt, "just as soon as we could get to some one who would be willing to take our word for what happened."
"What the super said about Grattan trying to get back at you, Matt, for what you did in the old sugar camp, near Purling, sounded to me like it had a lot of good horse sense mixed up in it."
"What I told the super had a little horse sense in it, too, didn't it, Joe?"
"You mean about Grattan having so much to do to keep out of the clutches of the law that he won't find any time to hit up your trail?"
"Yes."
"I don't know about that. Grattan is a tinhorn who is in a class all by himself. He seems to have all kinds of nerve, and to be willing to take all sorts of chances. That moving-picture deal gives us a pretty good line on him."
When the boys got to the hotel, McGlory stumbled into a chair on the veranda.
"Gee, man, but I'm tired!" he exclaimed. "A cowboy is built for riding, and not for this footwork. It sure gets me going. Sit down here for a while, Matt, and let's palaver about New York, and what the chances are for our getting there."
"They're pretty slim, I guess," answered Matt, dropping into a seat at his chum's side, "if we're to wait until Grattan is captured. Tsan Ti says, in his letter, that he won't come on until Grattan is behind the bars, or safely off his trail."
"Which means to hang on here until—we don't know when. We're rid of Bunce, but there'll be something else to hit us between the eyes before we're many minutes older. You can bet your moccasins on that. As long as we're tangled up with that ruby, we'll find hard luck flagging us all along the pike."
At that moment the clerk emerged from the hotel office and crossed the veranda. He wore a troubled look, as though something had happened to worry him.
"That man came, Motor Matt," said he, "and I gave him the box."
McGlory fell back as though some one had struck him.
"What man? What box?" he roused up to inquire wildly.
The clerk caught the alarm in the cowboy's voice and manner.
"Why, don't you know?" he cried, appealing to Matt. "It was the small box you left with me early this morning."
"And—and you gave it up?" gasped McGlory huskily.
"What else could I do?" protested the clerk. "I had the written order from Motor Matt. The man brought it."
McGlory was too dazed to answer. His jaw fell, and he stared at the king of the motor boys.
"Let me see the order," said Matt.
The clerk pulled a letter from his pocket.
"I hope there's nothing wrong?" he asked, handing the letter to Matt. "I've been thinking there might be something wrong, but I didn't see how there could be. The handwriting of that letter matches your fist on the register—I was careful to look that up before I gave the man the box."
"Read it, pard," implored McGlory, in a mechanical tone.
"'Please deliver to bearer the small box which I left with you for safe-keeping, early this morning,'" Matt read. "'I need it at once, and find that I can't come for it in person.' That's all of it, Joe," said Matt, "and I must say that it's a pretty good imitation of my handwriting. The name is a tremendously good forgery."
The clerk nearly threw a fit; and McGlory nearly helped him.
"Then the letter is a forgery?" cried the clerk. "The man didn't have any right to the box?"
"How could he have any right to the box," stormedMcGlory, "when the letter asking you to turn it over to him was never written by Motor Matt? Corral your wits. Sufferin' hold-ups, it's come! We no sooner get out of one raw deal, than we tumble headfirst into another. Now——"
"Take it easy, Joe," cut in Matt. "Wait a minute." He turned to the clerk. "Don't get worked up about this," said he; "you're not to blame. When did the man call and deliver the forged letter?"
"Not more than an hour ago," answered the clerk, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. "Was there anything very valuable in the box?"
"What sort of looking man was he?" proceeded Matt.
"Slim, and dark, and undersized. Fairly well dressed."
"Well, never mind. Don't let it worry you."
The clerk, visibly distressed, in spite of Matt's reassuring words, went back into the office. As soon as he had vanished inside the hotel, the king of the motor boys gave vent to a low laugh.
McGlory peered at him.
"Pard!" he murmured, leaning over to drop a hand on Matt's knee. "Have you gone off the jump on account of that confounded ruby? It's a blow between the eyes, all right, but, for heaven's sake, don't let it get you locoed."
"Locoed!" and Matt pulled himself together, reached inside his vest and brought out a knotted handkerchief. Untying the knotted ends of the handkerchief, he opened it out on his knee. "See here, Joe!" said he; "that's how badly I am locoed."
What McGlory saw was the ruby, glowing redly against the white linen.
THE MAN FROM THE "IRIS."
Not many times in McGlory's life had he been so tremendously at a loss for words as he was then. He stared at the ruby and he stared at Matt.
"You see, pard," said Matt, "the ruby wasn't in the box when I gave it to the clerk. I kept the Eye of Buddha safely about me, all the time. It gouged me a little when the speeder stopped and I was slammed against the forward bench."
"Speak to me about this!" rumbled the cowboy. "It wasn't in the box—a tinhorn blew in with a forged letter—he got the box, but he didn't get the ruby. Matt's done something—and he never told me what he was doing. What—how—why—— Look here, you blooming old maverick, how did you ever come to think of such a dodge?"
"It wasn't much of a dodge," answered Matt. "In the first place, I didn't take any stock in that wild yarn told us by Bunce. At the same time, while I didn't believe in it, I couldn't afford not to go with Bunce on Tsan Ti's account. I tried to think why Bunce should want to coax us into the hills, and the only idea that came to me had to do with the ruby. Now, I reasoned, if the rubywasback of Bunce's little game, then it was clear he knew it had been sent to me for safe-keeping. I wanted to find just how much Bunce knew, so I left the box with the clerk. Bunce was watching, or else he had somebody else watching. If he'd thought I had the ruby with me, an attempt would have been made to get it while we were in the hills. But Bunce believed I had left the ruby in the safe, so he dodged away, leaving you and me to be nabbed by the section men, while he went on to that 'pocket' under the ledge, found Grattan, told him where I had placed the box, and the two got on their motorcycles and came close enough to town to get a man to help them secure the box.
"Grattan must have forged the letter. Then this third man took it. The rascals had to work quick, for the game was played while we were taking a look around at the camp in the ravine, and walking into town. Can't you understand, Joe? By getting us into the hills, with that fairy story about Tsan Ti, Grattan could play his hand either way. If we had the ruby with us, he could get hold of it; if we had left it behind, he could take advantage of our absence from Catskill to execute some ruse in town while we were out in the country."
"Clever?" breathed McGlory; "why, he's the cleverest crook that ever happened. But I'd like to have a picture of him now!" The cowboy fell back in his seat and roared with mirth. "Wouldn't I like to look in on him while he and Bunce are opening that box?" he sputtered. "Oh, but it's rich! Clever as he is, Grattan has found that he's butted up against some one who can give him cards and spades, and then beat him out. I've been proud of you, pard, more times than I can tell, but I'm just a little prouder now than I ever was before. Shake!"
Matt caught his chum's hand.
"It was only a guess, Joe," he deprecated, "and it happened to work our way. There was nothing clever about what I did. The result was entirely a—an accident."
"You had your head with you, all the same," insisted McGlory, "when you put that empty box in the safe. But how in thunder did Bunce get next to that? How did he know that Tsan Ti had sent you the ruby, in the first place?"
"Well, he did know, and that's enough. A third man has jumped into the deal—another pal, who is helping Grattan and Bunce. Perhaps he had something to do with keeping track of the ruby."
"Perhaps. But that old two-eyed counterfeit with the green patch—I wonder how much he'd sell out for, about now?"
"Bunce is pretty clever, in his own way, too," averred Matt. "He must have laughed in his sleeve when he sawhow we had swallowed that fish story of his about Tsan Ti."
"He can laugh, now, on t'other side of his face. We're helping Tsan Ti, all right. Grattan is on our trail instead of his. I'm not saying it was the right thing for the mandarin to shift the responsibility for that ruby onto you, but he was pretty long headed when he did it. He understood that if any one could take care of the ruby it was Motor Matt."
"It will soon be dinner time, Joe," said Matt. "Suppose we go up to our room, shake the dust out of our clothes, take a bath, and get ready to eat?"
"That reminds me how hungry I am!" exclaimed McGlory, springing up.
By the time dinner was ready, the boys were ready for dinner. Their experiences of the forenoon had put a keen edge on their appetite, and the cowboy was in high good humor.
He and Matt had put in a strenuous morning, and so long as McGlory thought they had not accomplished anything, he was disgusted and "out of sorts." But to learn that Grattan and Bunce had been beaten at their own game, set twanging a most delightful chord in the cowboy's make-up.
The motor boys had no plans for the afternoon, so they put in their time idling about the veranda. It was about three o'clock when a tall man, dressed in a natty white yachting costume with the name "Iris," in gilt letters on the band of his cap, came briskly up the veranda steps, passed Matt and McGlory and went on into the hotel.
The man claimed only casual attention, on his first appearance, but, a few seconds later, he captured the entire attention of the two boys. He returned to the veranda, ushered by the clerk, and both stepped toward Motor Matt.
"Matt," said the clerk, "this is Mr. Pardo, of the yachtIris. Mr. Pardo, Mr. King. He wants to see you about some business matter," the clerk added, as he vanished back into the hotel.
The man from theIrissmiled cordially as he clasped Matt's hand.
"This is a pleasure, I assure you," said Pardo. "I have heard quite a little about Motor Matt."
"What can I do for you, Mr. Pardo?" asked Matt.
"That's the business part of our interview," was the answer, as Pardo helped himself to a chair, "and I'm going to get right down to it. You are familiar with gasoline motors, I understand?"
"Yes."
"With marine motors?"
"I reckon you never heard how he put an automobile engine in a launch, at Madison, Wisconsin," struck in McGlory, "and won a big race. He's right at home with every kind of an explosive engine, whether it drives a craft in the air, on wheels, or in the water."
"My chum is a trifle prejudiced, Mr. Pardo," smiled Matt.
"Well, I guess you can do the work, all right. The question now is, can I secure your services?"
"What for?"
"Of course," laughed Pardo, "that's what you naturally want to know. I'm the owner of a power yacht, fifty feet over all, ten feet beam, equipped with a fifty-horse-power motor. She's theIris. I dropped down from Albany, this afternoon, and when we tied up at Catskill my engineer received a telegram from Buffalo saying that his father was dangerously sick. He left at once, and here I am, anxious to make a quick run to New York, but caught in the worst kind of a hole. Can't I get you to help me out? As soon as I reach New York I can get any number of reliable men to take charge of my engine room, but here in Catskill help of that sort is scarce."
McGlory's joy shone in his face. Here was a chance to get down the river in style, and all that stood between Matt and the trip was the ruby.
"Can't you run the motor, Mr. Pardo?" asked Matt.
"Don't know the first thing about it," was the answer. "You see, I haven't had time to learn. This is my first trip in theIris, and I haven't had much chance to pick up a knowledge of her machinery. It's my idea that every man ought to know how to run his own boat—and I'll know it, too, before I'm many days older. But, just now, I've got to have some one. What do you say?"
Pardo noticed that Matt was not especially eager to help him out.
"If you can just get me down to New York," he pleaded, "that's all I will ask. If you have to come back to Catskill for anything, you can come on the train in the morning. You won't be away very long, and it will be a big accommodation to me. I'll pay you well for your trouble, too, if that will be any inducement."
"Better go, pard," urged McGlory. "I don't think your business will suffer any. We can be back here by nine in the morning, if we want to."
It was hardly likely, as Matt reasoned the matter out, that Tsan Ti would present himself and ask for the ruby before he and McGlory could get back from New York. The opportunity to make a little money in a pleasant way was appealing, for the king of the motor boys had long desired to have the run of the engine room on a big power boat.
"What time do you want to start, Mr. Pardo?" Matt asked.
"At nine, this evening," was the reply. "If you can help me out, you'd better arrange to be aboard at, say, eight-thirty. TheIrisis close to the day-line dock, and you can't help but find her."
"How much are you willing to pay for the trip?" queried Matt. "It's just as well, you know, to have all that settled beforehand."
"I'll give you a hundred dollars—not so much for the work, you understand, as for the time you are losing. Your time may be worth even more than that. If it is——"
"You are more than liberal," broke in Matt. "I and my chum will be aboard theIrisat eight-thirty."
The man from theIrisheaved a deep breath.
"That's a big load off my mind," said he. "I could have telegraphed New York and had an engineer come up on a late train—but that would have delayed the start until close upon midnight. I shall expect you, Motor Matt," and Pardo got up and went his way briskly.
ABOARD THE STEAM YACHT.
"I don't know," said Matt, "whether this is the thing for us to do, or not, Joe. Tsan Ti's letter asked us to stay in the Catskills."
"Oh, bother the old heathen!" returned the cowboy. "He won't show up here for quite a spell. Anyhow, if he does arrive to-morrow morning, before we do, he can wait for us, can't he?"
"He's paying us for our time."
"What if he is, pard? The old boy won't find any fault if we take this little run down the river. There's a point, too, that you don't seem to have thought of."
"What is it?"
"Why, Grattan has quit trailing Tsan Ti and gone to trailing you. By taking this trip down the river we may be able to throw Grattan off the track."
"That's so," answered Matt, struck with the idea.
"If the tinhorn is laying any more of his plans," chuckled the cowboy, "we'll fool him."
"I'll leave word with the clerk," said Matt, "to tell Tsan Ti where we've gone, and when we'll return; then, if hedoeshappen to get here before we do, he'll know we're intending to come back and meet him."
"That's the talk!"
Matt immediately went into the hotel and stepped to the clerk's desk.
"Are you acquainted with Mr. Pardo?" he asked.
"Never saw him before," answered the clerk. "He came in here, introduced himself, and said he was looking for Motor Matt. I knew you were on the porch, so I volunteered to take him out and introduce you. Looks like a fine gentleman. Interview satisfactory?"
"Yes. He has a power yacht at the landing, and wants an engineer to get her to New York for him. I've taken the job, and Joe and I will be away all night and not get back until sometime to-morrow forenoon. If any one calls and asks for me, you need not tell them where I have gone, but just let them know when I expect to return."
"I'll do it, Matt. Didn't know you had an engineer's license?"
"He's got everything," put in McGlory, "that goes with running a motor."
The boys had no preparations to make, and as there were two hours to be passed before supper they concluded to run down to the dock and take a look at theIris. There was no difficulty at all in locating her, and the sight of her trim and graceful lines made Matt eager to have a look at her interior plan. There was no one about her decks, however, whom he and McGlory could hail, and he hesitated to go aboard and arouse any one who might chance to be in the cabin.
The cowboy, who was a wretched sailor, quite unaccountably was an enthusiast about boats, and his doting eyes sparkled as they traveled over theIris.
She had a very high freeboard forward, and this, with her perfect lines, gave her an easy entrance and a guarantee that she would not pound or ship seas in any sort of weather. There was no midship bridge, or forward pilot house, but the boat was steered and the engine controlled from a big and roomy after deck.
"She's a fair daisy!" declared the cowboy, "as spick and span as a freshly coined four-bit piece. Sufferin' bones, but I'd like to own a boat like that!"
"You'd find such a craft an expensive luxury, Joe," said Matt. "If you did much cruising, it would keep you poor just buying gasoline. Let's go back up the hill. We can't see inside the boat, and it don't take long to get a pretty fair idea of the outside."
Returning to the hotel, the boys idled away the time until the supper call sounded. The meal over, there were still some two hours of waiting before they were due aboard theIris.
McGlory suggested another visit to the theatre for a second look at the "Buddha's Eye" pictures. Matt, thinking that as good a way as any for passing the time, acquiesced, and they were soon at the moving-picture place.
There was standing room only—which proved how much of a hit the ruby robbery had made. The hit, of course, was entirely because of Matt's adventures while recovering the gem for Tsan Ti. If those attending the show had known that Motor Matt was also present, and that he had the very Eye of Buddha in his pocket, there would have followed a furore of no small proportions.
But the king of the motor boys, often in direct opposition to his best interests, was reserved and diffident.
"Gee!" exclaimed the cowboy, as he and Matt left the theatre and wandered along the street, "if those people back there had only known who you were, and what you had in your pocket, there'd have been something of a stir."
"I don't like that kind of a stir," said Matt.
"That's you! Say, pard, you're altogether too modest and retiring. If you wanted to splurge a little, you couldmake yourself talked about from one end of the country to the other."
"I'll leave that to those who like it. It's the quiet chap, who plugs along and does things without blowing his own horn who makes the biggest hit in the end."
"I don't know but that's right, too."
They dropped in at another show, promenaded the street, and finally discovered that it was nearly eight-thirty. Turning their steps toward the water front, they presently reached the wharf alongside theIris.
The craft had her "running" lights in position. There was a white light in the bow, visible from straight ahead and for ten points on either side, a green light to starboard and a red light to port, each screened so that it could be seen from dead ahead to two points aft of the beam, and a high white light aft and directly over the keel, showing all around the horizon.
But, notwithstanding all these lights on deck, there were none visible through the cabin ports.
"I wonder if Mr. Pardo has got here?" said Matt.
"What's the odds, Matt?" returned McGlory. "It's eight-thirty, and we're due."
They got aboard, gaining the after deck. The elevated white light cast a dim glow over polished mahogany and glittering brasswork, and Matt bent down to examine the bulkhead controls. A door opened in the bulkhead, on the right of the steering wheel, and a man showed shadowily in the dark.
"Is that Motor Matt?" he called.
"Yes," was the reply.
The man clambered up two or three steps, knocking his shins and swearing because of the darkness.
"You're expected," said he. "Go down into the saloon—a stateroom is the first thing you come to, and the saloon is beyond that."
"Why don't you light up?" asked Matt.
"Mr. Pardo has a headache, and the light bothers him. Go on down—he's waiting for you."
Matt led the way, and McGlory followed. They left the door open, and a faint radiance followed them, but they were in unfamiliar surroundings, and had to grope their way along.
"Is that you, Motor Matt?" called a voice, which they recognized as Pardo's.
"Yes," Matt answered.
"Come on in here. I'm not feeling very well to-night, and the light hurts my eyes. You can guide yourself by the sound of my voice, can't you?"
"We'll get there, all right."
"Is your friend with you?"
"Yes. I never travel without him."
The next moment Matt gained the open door in another bulkhead. Before he could pass through it, two sinewy arms went around him from behind and a hand was clapped over his lips. He struggled, but he was caught as in a vise, and his efforts to free himself were useless. From near at hand, too, he heard sounds which indicated that McGlory, also, had been seized.
"Got them?" came the voice of Pardo.
"Yes, sir," answered the man who was holding Matt, "but they're fightin' like a pair o' young demons."
"Then throw them down on the side seats and hold pillows over their heads. We'll get under way at once."
Matt felt himself borne down on a cushioned bench. The hand was jerked from his lips, and the half-formed cry that escaped him was smothered in the pillow that was immediately pushed over his head.
A bell jingled, and steps could be heard on the deck above, moving swiftly.
"All right!" came a muffled voice.
Matt, half suffocated, could hear no more. He was fighting fiercely for his breath.
Presently he was conscious that theIriswas moving, and, as he lay gasping and helpless under the strong hands of his captor, there came faintly to his ears the hum of a motor and the lapping of waves against the hull.
How long he was held down on the seat, half smothered by the pillow, he did not know. It seemed hours, but was probably no more than so many minutes.
Then, suddenly, the pillow was jerked away, and he lifted himself on his elbow, a glare of light in his eyes. For a moment or two the dazzling light blinded him. When his eyes became somewhat used to it, he discovered a man standing near him, his flannel shirt parted at the throat and his bronzed arms bare to the elbows. The man held a dirk in one hand and a piece of rope in the other.
From this frowning figure, Matt's gaze shifted across the narrow aisle to a cushioned bench opposite. McGlory was there, and there was likewise a ruffian keeping watch of him.
"What—what does this mean?" demanded Matt.
"You'll find out, quick enough. Are you goin' to make any trouble? If you are, say so, now, and you'll save yourself a knife in the ribs."
"I want to know about this!" declared Matt.
"Then get up and go into the saloon."
"You, too," said the man who had charge of McGlory. "Foller yer mate inter the saloon, an' if either o' ye let out a yell ye'll never know what struck you."
Matt, fearing the worst, swung his feet down from the upholstered seat and started forward. McGlory, who appeared to be in a trance, followed him mechanically.
The door of the saloon was open, and Matt passed through it, and stopped. McGlory crowded in beside him.
The saloon was the full width of the boat, with seats on each side, and a table at one end. The small room was flooded with light, and three figures were seen in an angle formed by one of the seats where it partly crossedthe forward bulkhead. The fixed table stood in the angle, and the three figures were leaning upon it.
One of the men was Grattan, another was Bunce, and the third was Pardo. In front of Grattan, on the table top, lay two objects. One was a revolver, and the other the small box in which the ruby had been expressed to Matt from New York.
All three of the men were smiling.
"Speak to me about this!" muttered McGlory. "Nabbed! Nabbed as slick as you please! And I never guessed a thing. Oh, sufferin' easy marks!"
GRATTAN'S TRIUMPH.
Motor Matt understood the situation. The full realization came to him with something like a shock. In some way Grattan had secured the aid of the owner and crew of theIrisin carrying out his villainous designs. He had triumphed, for he had only to have Matt searched in order to secure the ruby.
Philo Grattan was an educated fellow, and could be a man of pleasing address when he so desired. In almost any honest line of work he could have distinguished himself, for his ability was high above the average. Yet, like so many others equally gifted, he had been drawn toward a life of crime.
"Motor Matt," said he, in a tone and with a manner that was friendly, "we meet again. The pleasure, on your part, I presume, is unexpected, and perhaps of a doubtful quality, but so far as I am concerned, I assure you that this renewing of our acquaintance leaves nothing to be desired."
"Not a blessed thing," struck in Bunce, contorted with inward mirth, "sink me, if it does!"
Grattan dropped a heavy hand on the mariner's shoulder.
"Keep a still tongue in your head," he ordered sternly. "I'm able to do the talking."
"Then," and Matt turned toward Pardo, "this is simply a plot you have engineered to get me into the hands of Grattan?"
"Simply and solely," was Pardo's cheerful answer.
"Pardo is my friend," explained Grattan. "He lives in Albany, when he's at home—but he's rarely at home. He has been fortunate, of late, in sundry little ventures, and happened to be well supplied with money. No sooner had I lost my buckthorn cane, there in the old sugar camp, at Purling, and been made aware of the fact that the Eye of Buddha had been found, than I communicated with friend Pardo. I had met him in Albany on my way to the Catskills, so I knew he was at home. He met me in my temporary camp, and agreed to charter theIristo help me down the river and out of the country after I had got back the ruby. TheIris, together with a crew of men on whom we can depend, has been awaiting my convenience for the past two days. Of course," and Grattan showed his teeth in a smile, "my friend's name is not Pardo, any more than mine is Grattan, or than this salt-water bungler on my left is named Bunce."
Although Matt followed Grattan closely, he had, at the same time, been covertly using his eyes.
The door leading into the stateroom behind him was closed. On the other side of it he knew there was one brawny ruffian, and perhaps two. Beyond the saloon's forward bulkhead he could hear the purring motor. There, he inferred, was the engine room and the galley, with another man who could be "depended on." At the steering and engine controls on the after deck was surely another man, and probably one on the deck overhead.
He and McGlory were hemmed in on all sides. There must have been, counting those in the saloon, all of seven or eight men against them. So far as Matt could see, the case was hopeless.
Matt's covert looks had not escaped the keen eyes of Grattan. The scoundrel seemed able to read even the young motorist's thoughts.
"Don't think of escape, Motor Matt," said he. "That is entirely out of the question. Neither you nor your friend are in any danger. I think too highly of you to rob the world of so much talent and ingenuity. Let us have another friendly and intimate chat such as we had in the old sugar camp. I do not object to telling you things of great moment to me, because I have already taken measures to make the knowledge harmless. I escaped from the sugar camp, did I not? And all I told you then did not in any way hamper me in proceeding with my plans. I am willing to be equally frank now, in the hope that you, on your part, will give me some of your confidence.
"You thought Tsan Ti, the mandarin, had started for San Francisco with the ruby. Orientals are crafty. He gave it out that he was going to San Francisco, and immediately started for New York. I had him followed from the Hotel Kaaterskill, and shadowed while in New York. The man who served me was clever, but not clever enough to keep Tsan Ti from learning that he was under espionage. The mandarin became nervous. He did not appeal to the police, as his heathen mind counsels him to have nothing to do with the peace officers who serve the foreign devils. But he had his man, Sam Wing, and other Chinamen, continually guard him. One of these Chinamen was faithless. Some of my money, expended by the man I had set to watch Tsan Ti, bought him. This Chinaman was Charley Foo, and he betrayed the mandarin's trust for the sum of ten silver dollars.
"Charley was in the room with Tsan Ti when the ruby was boxed, wrapped and addressed to Motor Matt. Charley, also, went with Tsan Ti and Sam Wing to the express office, and saw the package sent. Then, quite naturally,Charley told my man, and my man telegraphed Pardo at Hudson, and Pardo got the message to me, out there in that lonely ravine.
"Then I began rehearsing Bunce in his part. Bunce is a natural blockhead, and I was three hours teaching him what he was to say and do. As an example of his folly, I will say that it was Bunce who stole the speeder. The owner of the machine was inspecting a bit of siding that wound around a low hill. The speeder was on the main track. All Bunce had to do was to get aboard, switch on the gasoline and the spark—and there you are. But why did we need the speeder when we had two good motorcycles? Bunce can't tell. He doesn't know. He has a low mind, and the itch to steal unimportant things runs in his blood—and has more than once proved embarrassing to me.
"However, I saw a chance to use the speeder in beguiling you to my ravine. The motorcycles would only have carried two, and there were to be three of you, including Bunce. Besides, the machines might have aroused your suspicions. So the speeder was used, and Pardo went over the hill with Bunce and helped him hide the speeder within an arrow flight of the Catskill railroad yards.
"Bunce took a risk. He knew it. I impressed upon him the fact that, if he did not carry out his programme with earnestness, you would make a prisoner of him and turn him over to the police. We knew Tsan Ti had written that you must keep the ruby about you, and leave it nowhere for security. I flattered myself you would bring the gem with you, concealed somewhere upon your person. But Pardo, wearing clothes which made him look vastly different, saw you leave the little box with the hotel clerk. Instantly Pardo ran ahead of you to the place where Bunce was waiting, and told him. The seeming failure of our plans threw Bunce into a panic—you can expect so little of Bunce in a pinch!—and he would have thrown over the whole matter, then and there, had not Pardo advised him. 'Take them out into the hills,' said Pardo, 'and leave them stranded there while you get away to the ravine and tell Grattan. Grattan will know what to do.' And Grattan did."
An ironical smile crossed the face of the strange man, and he paused a space. When he continued, his manner was again easy and vivacious.
"Ah, those section men! They helped gain time for me, and afforded Bunce his opportunity to get away from you. Bunce fled—you know how. He came to me and told me about the box, the box Motor Matt had left with the hotel clerk to be put in the safe. A fountain pen and a sheet of letter paper sufficed for the letter. I have seen your written name, Motor Matt, and when I have once seen a person's handwriting, I can copy it from memory after a lapse of one year or ten. Some say it is a gift.
"We had sharp work ahead of us, Bunce and I. We rolled out of the ravine on our motorcycles, gained the river bank below Catskill and signaled theIris. Pardo came ashore in the tender, and he loaned us his motor-man for the work that claimed us. You know how he got the box, and we know what it contained—cotton wadding, but no ruby. Motor Matt, I could have shaken your hand and congratulated you—if you had been near and I had had time.
"A few rebuffs are what I need to bring out the best that is in me. Quick as a flash I thought of the motor-man's sick father in Buffalo, and Pardo's call at your hotel to get you to take theIristo New York. Shall I call it an inspiration? I believe it amounted to that.
"Bunce and I, snugged away in this saloon, slept and waited for the issue of our scheming. Pardo came to report that you would be aboard theIrisat eight-thirty. I was almost sure of success, but not certain. You have a way, Motor Matt, of disappointing people like me, and I was not counting positively upon success until I had you in my hands.
"Well, here you are. I have only the kindliest feelings toward you, but you know what I want, and what I want, in this instance, I am going to have."
Grattan got up and stood beside the table, a superb figure of a man whose head just cleared the deck above.
"I have devoted time, and study, and faced dangers innumerable," he proceeded, betrayed into passionate vehemence, "to secure the Eye of Buddha! I have beaten down every obstacle, and secured the stone only to lose it; now it is mine again, mine. Motor Matt," and he stretched out his hand, "I will trouble you for the Eye of Buddha!"