A FRIEND FROM THE ENEMY'S CAMP.
"You blokes are wise guys—I don't think," grinned Dashington. "Motor Matt is cracked up to be such a phenom. that I had a warm guess he'd know who wrote that letter first crack out of the box."
"What letter are you talking about?" demanded Matt.
"The one you found in your mail this morning. My stationery wasn't the sort they use in polite correspondence, but I was in luck to have even that. An old letter of Bangs', Bangs' notebook and Bangs' pencil helped me out. I'll bet eight big iron louies you never once suspected me of dropping that letter in the mails; and yet, who else was there for you to suspect? Didn't think Jurgens would do it, did you? Or Whistler? Or Bangs? Get wise, Motor Matt, get wise. There's work ahead for the lot of us, and the longer we hang off about it, the harder it's likely to be."
Matt and his friends listened to this line of talk with a good deal of wonder, but they were not disposed, just then, to take Dashington's word for anything.
"You say you wrote that letter?" queried Matt, noting how the youth's talk harmonized with the letter's contents.
"Want me to make a song out of it and set it to music? You haul considerable freight, in a general way, but you haven't taken on much of a load this trip."
"You're the swab Carl and I gave the letter to on the levee, all right," spoke up Dick.
"Thanks for the word. Swab! That expresses it nicely. Because of that letter, which I didn't want, I got rung into the biggest Jonah play that ever hip-locked with me. As a consequence my ticket is merely a souvenir. And now here comes Motor Matt and roughs things up in good old Texas style. That's dead tough luck and would bring tears to a pair of glass eyes."
"You stole the diamonds?"
"I played understudy to Motor Matt and lifted the sparks. I walked two long blocks with them concealed upon my person, then Whistler handed me a fistful of fives twice, right where they started the slumber song. Was I down? Yes, indeed, and for several minutes. When I rounded to and took a fresh grasp of the situation, Jurgens, Whistler and Bangs had chugged away in their auto and had forgotten to leave the dazzlers."
"Ah!" said Matt grimly. "You robbed Townsend and then Jurgens and his men robbed you."
"I hope I may drop if that wasn't the way of it. It was a lesson for me, I think; anyhow, it's a mortal cinch I got a horrible sorry on for what I'd done. 'They played me for a mark,' I says to myself, 'and got the sparklers; now I'll turn to and help Motor Matt get them back again.' That's why I wrote that letter, and I dropped it in a mail box just before I pushed off in a boat and floated down the river. Happened to meet a colored brother fishing; I told him I wanted to go to Bayou Yamousa, and the colored brother happened to know the way; also he happened to have a mule and a wagon, and he brought me here. I didn't think you'd be along before night, and I was just keeping myself as retired as possible while waiting for you to get here. This shanty looked good to me, and as I was some fagged on account of the night's labor, I locked the door, stretched myself out and have been pounding my ear ever since."
"How did you know Jurgens, Whistler and Bangs were coming to this place?" asked Matt.
His confidence in Dashington was increasing. This would not have been the case had Dashington tried to deny, or smooth over, the part he had played in the robbery. He was cheerfully admitting his guilt, and the cause he had for turning against Jurgens and his men seemed sufficiently adequate.
Dashington told how he had discovered the coat, and showed the memorandum book found in the pocket. The notation: "If our plant works, and we get separated after the diamonds are lifted, am to meet J. and W. at Bayou Yamousa," appealed particularly to Matt. It showed Dashington's reason for coming to Bayou Yamousa, and for asking Matt and his friends to join him there.
"Do you know positively," asked Matt, "that Jurgens is in this vicinity?"
"I've seen their camp," replied Dashington, "but I was foxy enough not to let them see me. I'm not altogether a flat, even if I did let Jurgens and Company touch me up and pull their chestnuts out of the blaze. I've about decided to cut out the crooked work entirely, and it's up to Motor Matt and his pals to give me a fresh chance. Of course you can pinch me, and land me in the pen, but that would hardly be square after I have helped you get back the diamonds."
"Who are you?" said Matt.
"Joe Dashington, with the accent on the 'dash.'"
"Where are you from?"
"Every place. I seem to have broken out in New Orleans just at the right time to mix things for everybody. Don't let it get past you that I didn't know what I was up against when Jurgens asked me to lift the stones. I was on the make, and went into it with my eyes wide. I'm not turning on the gang entirely because I have a grouch, but because I've about concluded that bunko work is a losing game."
"You're right about that, Dashington," averred Matt. "Crooked business is bad business, and you show your good sense in wanting to cut loose from it. What do you expect of us?"
"I'm in wrong," replied Dashington, "but maybe I can get over that if you'll help. Suppose I join you and help you recover the diamonds. Will that pay for letting me start for unknown regions, and then doing the nice, genteel dip for the rest of the time I'm on earth?"
"I don't know why it won't," said Matt, in a kindly tone. "You look to me like a chap who could do big things if you went at it in the right way."
"Landed! Landed and strung! I'm hooked, King, and you might give me your hand. I've got the gaff from the strong-arm push for the last time. Just have your pal put that gun in his pocket and I'll feel easier."
"Put up the thing, Dick," said Matt. "Dash can be trusted. He's going to help us recover the diamonds, and in return for his service we're to let him go wherever he wants to."
"Aber vill he make goot mit vat he says?" chirped Carl.
"I'm Class A at making good," said Dashington, "when I tackle a job of my size. I can handle this one. But where's the balloonobile, the flying wonder that has shaken the Crescent City from centre to circumference,and clear across to Algiers? I haven't noticed it," and Dashington stepped to the door and made a hasty survey of the shore of the bayou.
"You're looking too low, mate," said Dick. "She bounced up on a live oak and you can't see her for moss."
Dashington whirled with a jump.
"Wrecked?"
"Demolished. She's sailed the skies for the last time, and it was a bullet brought her down."
"A bullet?"
"Yes," put in Matt. "It was fired from somewhere in the timber, put the motor out of business and made holes in the gas bag. We all of us had narrow escapes——"
"You look the part."
"Have you any idea who fired that shot?"
A worried expression came over Dashington's face.
"Who else but some of that sure-thing crowd?" he returned. "This boggles the situation. They know you're here, and when they find you weren't finished up out of hand they'll come looking for you. This sort of puts a crimp in our prospects, Motor Matt. Getting the sparks isn't going to be so easy. Jurgens and his crowd are over by the wagon road with an automobile, and if they think we're wise to them they may take the machine and hike."
"We've got to get back those diamonds," declared Matt.
"If we don't, I'd look pretty asking you to pull the pin on me, wouldn't I? Sure we've got to get 'em back, but——"
"Belay there, with your jaw tackle," came excitedly from Dick, in a half whisper.
He had been standing by the open door, and he suddenly drew back and hurried up to the other boys.
"Jurgens just showed up on the bank of the bayou," announced Dick, "and he looks as though he might be laying a course for the hut."
"We're double-crossed!" muttered Dashington. "The head knocker of the push will be next to us in half a minute, and that means a run to safety in the chug wagon with all hands and the sparks."
"No," said Matt, a thought darting through his mind. "There are enough of us here to capture Jurgens. He may find out about us, but he won't be able to get away with the information."
"Now you're making a noise like a winner," whispered Dashington exultantly. "That's the play. Around the door, lads, and grab him from all sides when he pushes in. Don't let him yell. If he manages to put up a roar, Whistler and Bangs will hear it and get curious. They've got rifles with them—and a bullet is a hard thing to dodge if it's sent right."
Jurgens was already close to the hut—so close that there was not the slightest doubt but that he was intending to investigate it. He was probably wondering what had become of the boys from the air ship, and was abroad with the intention of locating them, if possible.
Carl and Dick got behind the door, while Matt and Dashington pressed up close to the wall.
The footsteps came nearer and nearer, and then, just as Jurgens put his foot across the threshold, Matt and Dashington sprang for him.
Dashington threw his arms about the man's throat and hung to him like a leech, while Matt seized a hand he was pushing toward his hip. In the struggle that followed, all three fell through the door and rolled off the step and onto the ground.
THE BAG OF DIAMONDS.
Jurgens divined instantly that he had got himself into a serious predicament; but his predicament was even greater than the four boys imagined during the first part of their struggle with him.
The scoundrel fought with the fury of a cornered panther, clawing, kicking and even trying to use his teeth. Dashington exerted himself entirely to prevent an outcry, and this left Matt to do most of the fighting until Carl and Dick hurled themselves through the door and lent their assistance.
With four against him, Jurgens had no hope; nevertheless, his desperation was so great that he vainly tried to continue his one-sided battle.
Carl found a piece of rope somewhere in the hut, and while he, and Matt, and Dashington held Jurgens, Dick put the lashings on his hands and feet and made them secure with hard and fast sailor's knots. A twisted handkerchief tied between Jurgens' jaws relieved Dashington of his part of the work, and the boys got up breathlessly and looked down at their prisoner.
"That's because you didn't play square with me, Jurgens," said Dashington, leering into the baleful eyes of the man at his feet. "I'll back you against all comers, bar none, for being the most treacherous crook in the business. But here's where you get it handed to you. You had it easy, last night, but here's where I give you the merry ha-ha."
Jurgens tried to talk, but succeeded only in emitting an incoherent gurgle behind the twisted handkerchief; then he strained desperately at his bonds, but Dick's knots were never known to slip.
"Oh, cut it out!" said Dashington. "The ball and chain are as good as on you so far as your chances for getting away are concerned. What do you think of yourself, anyway? This is a regular calcimine finish, and you're going to do time enough to keep you out of mischief for quite a spell."
"Vat's dis?" asked Carl, stooping down by the edge of the step and lifting a small canvas bag.
Dashington stared, then jumped into the air and shook his hat.
"Oh, no, this isn't luck!" he remarked, smothering his hilarity with a tremendous effort. "Not at all! And yet it's as natural as can be. Of course he wouldn't trust the sparks with either Whistler or Bangs. He keeps them himself, and when he goes out hunting for Motor Matt he totes them along. The bag drops out as we roll off the step, and hides itself up close to the wall of the cabin. Carl finds it—and maybe we're not all to the good? Take it from me, we are."
"Are the diamonds in that bag, Dash?" demanded Matt, scarcely daring to credit his ears.
"Nowhere else, cull," exulted Dashington. "I couldn't forget that bag. It has played a big part in my life, even if it hasn't played a long one."
"Well, shiver me!" muttered Dick, dropping down on the step. "If that's not what you call winding this up in handsome style, you can call me a lubber. Motor Matt's luck—that's what did it."
"Hoop-a-la!" fluttered Carl, doing a two-step. "We're der fellers, und don'd you forged dot! Der tiamonts is pack, we haf der tiamonts pack, und eferyt'ing iss so lofely as I can't tell. Hoop-a-la!"
"Stow it, neighbor!" warned Dashington. "We've got our hooks on the sparks, but we're not liable to keep them if you make too much noise. Whistler and Bangs are somewhere in the timber, so don't advertise the fact that we're here and have the stones. Look into the bag, Matt. Make sure it's no counterfeit."
"That's right," said Dick, tempering his glad feelings until a further examination was made. "Open the pouch, Matt, and look into it. If the old hunks has fooled us with a bag of pebbles——"
"He hasn't," cut in Matt. "Look here!"
He pulled one hand from the bag and held up a diamond in the sun. There could be no doubt, after that.
"But are theyallthere?" demanded Dashington. "The bag hasn't shrunk any since I first set my gig lamps onto it, still a few of the stones might have been taken out. What do you think?"
Matt, Carl and Dick had all seen the diamonds just as they had come from the idol's head, and they were all firmly of the belief that the stones in the bag bulked as large as ever.
"This," said Matt, after he had retied the bag and put it away in the breast of his coat, "makes it necessary for us to clear out of here as soon as possible. The question is, how are we to do it?"
"The nearest burg is Chef Menteur," answered Dashington. "We could go that far on our kicks and catch a train into N. O."
"Und leaf dot Jurgens feller pehindt?" protested Carl.
"He'd be something of a load to carry," said Dick.
"One of us could go to the nearest plantation and get a wagon," suggested Dashington.
"Und vile dot feller vas gone, Whistler und Pangs mighdt show oop und blay hop mit der resdt oof us."
"There are four of us," said Matt, "and I think, if we had a long pole, we could hang Jurgens to it and carry him. He has been the ringleader in every plot that was directed against Townsend and the iron chest. It's right that he should pay the penalty of his misdeeds, even if Whistler and Bangs should never be caught. We let him go once, you remember, Dick, when he was in our hands, and now, just because of it, we lost theHawk, and came within one of losing the diamonds."
"That's a good spiel Motor Matt is giving us," declared Dashington. "I'll go and look for a long pole, and while I'm about it, you fellows tie Jurgens' hands in front of him."
Dashington was probably ten minutes getting the pole. By the time he was back, Jurgens' hands had been released and rebound in front of him. The pole was slipped between his hands and feet, and Matt and Dick, at one end, and Carl and Dashington, at the other, lifted it to their shoulders.
Jurgens hung downward, the pole catching the ropes that bound him and holding him suspended. His position was far from comfortable, but the boys could not help that.
"I'm wise to the road we've got to take," said Dashington, "so this end of the pole had better travel ahead. We'll come out on the turnpike a half mile the other side of where I saw the automobile. It won't be many minutes before Bangs and Whistler will begin to wonder what became of Jurgens and the sparks, and they'll probably go out on a hunt. Luck seems to be on our side, so I'm hoping they sidestep us."
The ends of the pole were shifted so that Carl and Dashington could travel ahead. Dashington had his bearings, and he led off as briskly as he could, considering that the thick timber and the long pole made it necessary to pick their way with some care.
"You can see, fellows," philosophized Matt, from the rear, "what greed will do for a man. Jurgens wouldn't trust the diamonds with Whistler and Bangs. He had to take them with him. If he hadn't had them, the bag of loot wouldn't be in our hands now."
"Jurgens is a four-ply wonder," said Dashington. "He was greedy with me, and that's how I came to scratch my entry in his free-for-all grafting game, I hope they give him ninety-nine years at hard labor."
What Jurgens' thoughts were as he was pitched and swayed along and listened to this talk, did not appear. He was probably meditating on the changeable natureof human affairs, and thinking of the many times he had had the treasure of the Man from Cape Town in his hands and had failed, in the final pinch, to get away with it.
As they got farther and farther into the timber, Matt counseled silence. They were drawing close to the road and their voices might carry to the ears of Whistler or Bangs, if they happened to be abroad.
After that the journey was continued in silence, the lads pausing, now and then, to change the pole from one shoulder to the other.
Everything was going swimmingly, and Matt was looking ahead to an easy jaunt along the road into Chef Menteur, and then a comfortable ride on the railroad back to New Orleans, when Carl and Dashington suddenly laid back on the pole and whirled around to get the front end farther back into the timber.
Matt and Dick were naturally surprised at this quick move. They were on the point of speaking when Dashington laid a warning finger on his lips and motioned for the pole and its burden to be let down.
"What's up?" whispered Matt, when Carl and Dashington had pressed close.
"The benzine cart is right ahead of us!" answered Dashington.
"Oof ve hat gone anodder foot," added Carl, "ve vould haf come oudt righdt on Whistler und Pangs."
"They're sitting in the front seats with a couple of rifles over their knees," finished Dashington. "Go take a look, Matt."
Matt crept forward to a place from which he could get a good view of the wagon road. The automobile was pulled out on the roadside, and brush had been cut and piled over the bonnet in order to screen the car from travelers along the highway.
Whistler and Bangs did not appear, as yet, to be very much worried over the prolonged absence of Jurgens. They were lounging in the car, their feet on the dashboard and pipes between their lips. Bangs was in his shirt sleeves, and across the lap of each lay a rifle.
As Motor Matt surveyed the situation, he felt a pang to think that those two rascals would escape the penalty of their evil actions. This thought led to another which caused the young motorist's pulses to leap with an inspiration.
Turning in his tracks, he made his way silently back to his waiting companions.
"I've got a scheme, pards," he whispered. "How'd you like to ride back to New Orleans in Jurgens' automobile?"
"Who can run the thing, Matt?" asked Dashington.
"I can," was the answer. "I used to be in the business."
"How'll ve get der pupple?" inquired Carl.
"Here's the scheme," said Matt, and drew the other three close while he talked.
A DARING PLOT.
"In order to get to New Orleans," said Matt, in a low tone, "we'll have to head west along the road. Now, if we work the scheme, my part in it is settled, as I am the only one who can run the car. I shall have to stay close here, and you three can settle it among yourselves as to what parts you will take in pushing the deal through. Two of you will carry Jurgens half a mile westward, and wait at the edge of the road, ready to lift Jurgens into the car and to hop aboard when it comes along. One of you, I am not particular which, will go about a stone's throw farther into the timber and wait about half an hour in order that the two who are to tote Jurgens get to their proper place at the roadside. Then, the one who is in the timber will set up a hoarse yell for Whistler and Bangs, and will fire off one of the revolvers. Do you catch my drift?"
"It vas too many for me," said Carl.
"I can't rise to it, either," added Dick.
"See if I've guessed it right," spoke up Dashington. "The fellow that does the shooting and yelling in the timber will try to make Whistler and Bangs think he is Jurgens. The guess is that Whistler and Bangs will leave the auto and rush off to help Jurgens. Then what, Motor Matt?"
"Then I run to the car and start it down the road."
"Und vat pecomes mit der feller in der timber?" asked Carl.
"He runs for the road as soon as he hears Whistler and Bangs pounding through the brush," explained Matt. "He will angle off toward the turnpike and reach it way this side of where the other two are with Jurgens. I'll take the first fellow in, then we'll slam the machine through and pick up the other two of you and Jurgens. After that we ought to have clear sailing right into New Orleans. And, furthermore, at the first town west we can have officers come back and hunt for the two thieves we leave behind. By making a move like that, we'll not only give ourselves a lift into the city, but, better still, we'll take from Whistler and Bangs their only means of escape out of the country."
"That's the dope!" chuckled Dashington. "Anything that puts Whistler and Bangs on the slide makes a hit with me. It's a cinch this gang won't forget in a hurry what they did to Joe Dashington, nor what Dash did to even the score. I've got my place picked out."
"Vich iss it?" asked Carl.
"I'm the fellow to go in the woods, shake loads out of the pepper box and put up a roar."
"That means, Carl," said Matt, "that you and Dick will have to look after Jurgens. We'll give you half an hour to get where you're going. At the end of that timeDash will begin his racket. Then it's up to me to start the machine."
"You've picked out the hot end of it for yourself, Motor Matt," remarked Dashington. "From your talk one would think it the easiest piece of work on the job, but I'm jerry that it's some different. There's a lot of brush piled in front of the car, and on top of it. You won't have much time to get it out of the way."
"I don't expect to carry it off by the armful," said Matt, "but to start the car and drive through it and over it."
"Then it's a guess, and only a guess," pursued Dashington, "that both Whistler and Bangs will rush into the timber to give Jurgens a helping hand. Suppose only one of them goes? You'll be in a fine row of stumps trying to steal the machine with a man looking at you over the sights of a rifle!"
"That's the chance I take," said Matt coolly. "We're all taking chances, for that matter, and you're taking as many as any one else, Dash."
"Well," returned Dashington, "I'm satisfied if the rest of you are. Ring the gong, Motor Matt, and we'll take our corners."
"You and Carl had better move, Dick," said Matt, nodding toward Jurgens and the pole. "Pick up your man and start. Do you feel equal to it?" he added, turning an anxious look on the sailor.
"Equal to anything, mate," answered Dick, "now that we've got the diamonds. Only don't lose the stones, that's all. Grab your end of the pole, Carl," he added.
Carl was as happy a Dutchman as one could have found in seven states. He was morbidly fond of excitement, and he liked always to be "in the midst of alarms"—providing there was nothing supernatural about the alarms. His face fairly shone as he picked up his end of the pole and staggered away with it.
It was only a moment before Carl, Dick and their swinging burden was out of sight; and less than a minute more until a wild, hair-raising yell for help came from the direction taken by the two boys.
Matt and Dashington gave a jump of consternation. They realized at once what must have happened. Undoubtedly Jurgens had got rid of his gag, unknown to Dick or Carl, and had given vent to the yell.
Answering cries came almost instantly from the direction of the automobile.
There was not much time for Matt and Dashington to think what should be done, but their wits were keen and they thought along the same line.
"I'll draw them off, Matt," muttered Dashington, and sped into the wood.
There was no time for Matt to reply, for the crashing of brush proved that one or both of the men who had been in the car were close upon him.
Flinging himself to one side, Matt crouched on his knees behind a tree. Whistler and Bangs rushed into sight.
"Where'n thunder did that yell come from?" cried Whistler.
"Off to the left, there," answered Bangs, indicating the direction taken by Carl and Dick.
For an instant Matt's hopes went down, and he had a mental picture of Jurgens being rescued, and Carl and Dick having trouble with those long rifles.
Just at that moment, however, Dashington was heard from.
"This way, Whistler! Bangs! Quick! The diamonds! The diamonds!"
The voice was hoarse and a close imitation of Jurgens'. And then that mention of the diamonds was a masterstroke.
"Somebody's taking the diamonds!" yelped Whistler, bounding straight ahead.
"Confound Jurgens for carryin' 'em!" fumed Bangs, hurling himself after Whistler.
Matt's time to get active had now arrived. With an exultant heart he jumped to his feet and raced for the automobile.
He had to kick aside some of the brush to get at the crank, and the engine was slow in turning over; but, finally, he had the motor popping and settling down into a steady hum.
Into the car he leaped, there was a moment's work with the handle bars, a twist at the steering wheel and the car leaped toward the road, scattering the brush right and left.
Once on the highway and headed westward, fresh difficulties confronted Matt. His carefully laid plan had been only partly carried out, owing to the untimely yell from Jurgens.
Carl and Dick had had no time to get very far down the road, and Dashington would be put to it to double back and get around Whistler and Bangs.
Matt slowed the car and snailed along on the low speed, looking anxiously the while into the timber that edged the road.
He saw nothing of Dashington, who would presumably be the first one he picked up, and off somewhere in the dusky confines of the wood he heard the snarling report of a rifle.
His heart almost stood still at that.
At whom had the shot been fired? And had it reached its mark?
Matt thought of Dashington. In spite of Dashington's rapid past, there was something about the young fellow that was attractive, and Matt was beginning to like him.
It would have been a sad commentary on the course of events if Dashington was to be shot down just on the threshold of a better career.
In order to signal to his friends the location of the car, Matt honked loud and long.
Again came a rifle shot, this time much closer, and Matt heard the whistle of the ball through the air.
That meant, if it meant anything, that Dashington was coming toward the road, and that Whistler and Bangs were following him and shooting as they came. Matt dared not stop the car, for there would be no time to crank up and he did not dare trust the engine to take the spark, even after a short stop.
Presently, to Matt's anxious ears came a crashing of bushes and a sound of hard breathing. The noise came from a little way ahead, and he drove the car forward at a faster speed.
He could hear voices now, coming out of the recesses of the timber—the voices of Whistler and Bangs lifted excitedly.
"There he goes, Whistler!"
"Nail him, then, Bangs! He's got the loot and is trying to make a getaway with it."
Bang!
Another bullet rattled through the trees and clipped the air over Matt's head.
Just at that moment, Dashington, apparently unhurt but nearly spent, staggered into sight.
"Bilked!" he gasped; "I bilked 'em for fair."
"Into the tonneau, quick!" shouted Matt.
Dashington staggered to the running board and fell sprawling into the rear of the car.
"They're stealing the car!" howled the voice of Bangs, who was now close enough to the road to see what was going on.
"Stop 'em!" roared the panting voice of Whistler. "If they get away with the car we're done for!"
Away jumped the car on the high speed, throwing dust and gravel from the rear tires in a shower.
Bang! bang!came the harsh notes of the rifles, but the screen of dust and the excitement of the moment were not conducive to accurate shooting.
The car raced off, made a turn in the road, and Whistler and Bangs were left behind.
"Keep an eye out for Dick and Carl, Dash!" shouted Matt. "They ought to be somewhere around here."
At just that moment, Carl showed himself in the road, jumping up and down and waving his hat.
ON THE ROAD.
Carl and Dick had Jurgens close to the roadside, and not much time was lost loading the prisoner into the tonneau. Carl crawled into the rear seat with Jurgens and Dashington, and Dick got up in front with Matt.
"What was the shooting about?" asked Dick, smothering his excitement.
"Whistler and Bangs were taking pot shots at Dash," explained Matt. "Jurgens sprung our scheme on us before we were ready for it."
The car was rushing off down the road again, Matt looking back toward the turn for some sign of Whistler and Bangs. The machine had taken another turn before the baffled robbers had shown themselves.
"Py shinks!" boomed Carl, who had heard Matt's remark, "I t'ought I should drow fits righdt on der shpot ven don Jugens feller tuned oop. Ve ditn't know anyt'ing aboudt it, Matt, aber he hat chewed der handtkerchief in doo. Tick und me heardt der shooding, und ve vas schared shtiff. Ve t'ink, meppy, dot you or Tashington vas hurt."
"It was a close call for Dashington," said Matt. "If it hadn't been for his quickness and cleverness you two with Jurgens would have had Whistler and Bangs down on you like a thousand of brick. They were headed that way when Dash drew them off. But it's all over now. We're out of it, and we've got Jurgens' car, and Whistler and Bangs will have to hoof it. We'll send officers back from the next town."
"That will be Micheaud," put in Dashington.
"I vonder oof dere iss a blace to eat in der town?" quavered Carl. "I haf peen lifing on oxcidement all tay, und now ven der oxcidement iss gone I feel der need oof somet'ing else."
"Trust Carl to think of his chuck," laughed Dick. "What I want in the next town is a hat. After that I can get along until we reach where we're going."
Another handkerchief had been twisted between Jurgens' jaws in lieu of the one he had gnawed in two.
"There's no need of the gag now, pards," said Matt, "and you'll make Jurgens more comfortable by taking it off."
Jurgens' first words, the moment the gag was removed, were directed at Dashington.
"Confound you!" he hissed, "you're at the bottom of all this."
"Thanks," grinned Dashington, "that's partly the way of it."
"How did Motor Matt know where we had gone?"
"I put him next, Jurgens."
"How did you know?"
"Why, as for that, when you put me down and out, there in New Orleans, Bangs' coat dropped from the car. When I corralled my wits I found it. There was a notebook in the pocket and that gave me a line on your rendezvous."
"Bangs!" snapped Jurgens. "We ought never to have hooked up with him. He's a sot and a bungler."
"You're a bungler yourself, Jurgens. If you hadtreated me square, instead of trying to hog the whole bag of tricks, I might have kept right on with you and turned into a promising crook. On the whole, it's a fine thing for me you let Whistler give me that bump. I was at the turning point, and that rap on the block gave me a shove in the right direction."
"You'll do time for stealing those diamonds if my evidence counts for anything!" snapped Jurgens.
"But it won't. You're fooling yourself with a pipe dream when you let your little two-by-four run in that groove. Who was it shot at the air ship? Talk a while about something sensible."
"Bangs, again!" snorted Jurgens. "He was moseying along by the bayou and saw the air ship overhead. He blazed away, making a good shot. That was all right, but where Bangs was wrong was in hustling off to tell Whistler and me and not waiting to find out what damage he had done. As soon as I got Bangs' story, I made for the bayou. I saw the air ship, all right, smashed to smithereens in the top of a live oak, but King, Ferral and the Dutchman had vanished."
"Den you vent to hunt for us," bubbled Carl, "and got yourself in some drouples."
"You mean," laughed Dashington, with a taunt in his voice, "that he came to the hut to give us back the diamonds. It was a raw play, and that was what it amounted to."
Jurgens, in futile rage, ground his teeth.
"This will be the last of the diamonds," called Matt, from forward, "so far as you are concerned, Jurgens."
"I hope it will be the last of Townsend too," scowled Jurgens. "That fellow has dogged me from pillar to post ever since I left Atlantic City."
Matt and his chums enjoyed that remark.
"You dit all der dogging," said Carl.
"And you young whelps helped Townsend," snarled Jurgens. "Well, we've made it expensive for you. That air ship has made its last trip."
Dick Ferral sobered immediately. Recent exciting events had kept his mind off the untimely fate of theHawk, but now the loss of the air ship recurred to him with added significance.
"I was in love with that craft," said he. "She saved our lives more than once, and she helped us turn a good many tricks for law and order. Not only that, but she has made for us five or six times the amount of money she cost us. Poor little ship! I suppose she'll hang in that oak tree till the crack o' doom."
"Forget about it, old chap," said Matt. "Her last cruise was the best of all, for she helped me redeem my promise to Archibald Townsend. There's the town ahead," he added, "and we'll stop there for supper and to send some one back along the road to capture Whistler and Bangs."
"They'll keep clear of any one you send," growled Jurgens, "I'll guarantee that."
"Whose automobile is this, Jurgens?" queried Dick.
"It belongs to a firm in New Orleans," he replied, with a leer. "We rented it and were going to forget to take it back."
"Why didn't you leave town when Townsend let you go, that other time?" Matt went on, hoping for an answer to a question that had long bothered him.
"Because we believed Townsend had got the loot that was in the iron chest," said Jurgens, "and we had as much right to it as he had."
"And you watched Townsend, after that?"
"Every minute, night and day."
Just here Matt swerved from the street of the town and came to a halt in front of a public house.
"We'll go in and eat, Motor Matt," said Dashington, with a significant look at the young motorist, "and Carl and Dick can stay here and keep watch over the machine and Jurgens. We can send them a hand-out."
Matt, seeing that there was some object back of Dashington's suggestion, acquiesced. They got down from the car and went into the tavern, took a seat in the dining room and sent out a hot meal to those in the car.
Matt and Dashington were alone in the dining room and, after the waiter had served them and gone away, they were able to talk privately.
"I had something up my sleeve, cull," said Dashington, "when I asked you to come in here with me. Here's where I have to quit you."
"Why can't you go on to New Orleans, Dash?" asked Matt. "I know Townsend. He's a good fellow, and he'll be so glad to get the diamonds back that I know he will not make you any trouble."
"You might be able to swing Townsend, all right," returned Dashington, "but the chap that has it in for me, old fel, is Jurgens. You've heard how he feels. He'd split on me, as sure as fate, and ring me in on the deal. No, I've got to duck, and right from this town. I've done what I could to square myself, and I'm going to put as much country between me and New Orleans as I can. It will be best, all around. You and I look too much alike to be in the same section of the country."
"You're going to stay straight, are you?" asked Matt, quietly.
"As long as I'm on the turf!" declared Dashington. "There's my hand on it."
Matt grasped cordially the hand Dashington offered him.
"Between two fellows who look so much alike as do you and I, Dash," said Matt, "there ought to be a bond of friendship. As long as you're straight, if you ever need help and I'm within hailing distance, let me know."
Dashington was silent for a space.
"That's mighty good of you," said he finally and in a low tone. "You've been a good friend to me, and the police probably won't thank you for letting me get away; but I appreciate what you've done. Don't let that get past your guard for a minute."
"Haven't you any relatives?"
"I don't want to talk along that line," said Dashington. "If I have, they'll never hear of me until I prove myself a credit to the family."
"Where are you going, from here?"
"I'll take a side-door Pullman out of the country. Haven't a guess where I'll land, but I know it will be a good way off."
"Have you any money?"
Dashington laughed.
"Money? What's that? I haven't a sou markee in my jeans, Matt, and it's that that made me desperate and ready to fall in with Jurgens and his bunch. The lack of a little money puts many a chap to the bad."
Matt drew a roll of bills from his pocket, counted off several and laid them down beside Dashington's plate.
"There's fifty," said he.
"What's it for?" asked Dashington.
"For you."
"I don't want to take your money, Matt. I hope I'm not an object of charity."
"Well, I should hope not. I'm not giving it to you, you understand. It's only a loan, and you can pay it back next week, next year, or any old time when you get around to it."
"Thank you," said Dashington.
When Matt got up from the table, he left Dashington still sitting in his chair. And that was the last he saw of him.
A NEW MAN TAKES A HAND.
It was midnight when the automobile and its passengers from Bayou Yamousa rolled into New Orleans. Matt's first call was at police headquarters. Here Jurgens was left, and a bit of a surprise was sprung.
The assistant chief, Fetterman by name, was on duty, and the arrival of Jurgens created a mild sensation. Detectives were even then prowling about the city looking for Lattimer Jurgens, Whistler, Bangs, and a young man, name unknown, wearing a slouch hat, sweater and frayed corduroy trousers. The detectives had not met with the slightest success, and the bringing in of Jurgens, by Motor Matt and his chums, naturally created a mild degree of excitement.
The surprise was in the nature of a question by Fetterman.
"Where are you going, King, from here?"
Matt gave him the number of the house in Prytania Street where Townsend had taken up his quarters.
"Ah," said Fetterman, with a peculiar glance, "that's the place where the diamonds were stolen. A new man is taking a hand in the game. I'll get him at once and bring him to the place in Prytania Street, but I'd like to have you and your friends stay there until we arrive. What this man has to say will be of interest to all of you."
"Who is he?" inquired Matt, curiously.
"I have promised to let him do his own talking," was the vague response.
Vastly puzzled, Matt went out to the car, told his chums what Fetterman had said, and all three of them wondered and guessed clear to Prytania Street and the house of Mrs. Thomas.
This time Matt entered by the front way. There was a light in Townsend's room. The shade was drawn, but a glow could be seen through it.
Matt was announced by a sleepy domestic, and he and his chums were shown up the stairs to the sick chamber. Cassidy was on duty as usual, and Townsend was wide awake and sitting up in his bed.
"What luck?" he asked, quaveringly.
"The very best, Mr. Townsend," answered Matt, cheerily, and drew the bag from his coat and laid it in Townsend's hands.
"Are—are these the diamonds?" he asked.
"Yes."
"And where is Jurgens, Whistler, Bangs and the others who helped them commit the robbery?"
"They have all escaped—with the exception of Jurgens and the young fellow, Dashington, who impersonated me. Jurgens is in jail, and I allowed Dashington to go."
"You allowed him to go?" asked Townsend, nonplused.
"Yes," answered Matt, "for the reason that, if he had not helped us I never could have kept my promise to you."
"Nothing much matters," said Townsend, with a long sigh of content, "now that I have the diamonds back. I don't care who helped you, or how it happened, Motor Matt always accomplishes the thing he sets out to do. I have been better ever since you left here, last night. Now I shall get well, and get well quick. Give me your hand, my boy! And the rest of you—come here and let me thank you."
After Carl and Dick had crowded up to the bed and shaken hands with Townsend, the latter would have returned the bag to Matt and had him take the stones at once to the address on St. Charles Avenue; but, even as the request was being made, there was another ring at the gate bell, and then at the door, and the servant came up to announce "two men from headquarters."
"Two men from headquarters," muttered Townsend, bewildered. "Who can they be and what do they want?"
"I don't know what they want," said Matt, "but one of them is the assistant chief, Mr. Fetterman."
"Something else is going wrong," fretted Townsend, "and I know it. These diamonds seem to carry a curse with them."
"D'you feel strong enough, cap'n, to have more visitors?" asked Cassidy.
"I should be badly worried if I couldn't hear, without delay, what Fetterman and this other man have to tell me."
The assistant chief came in accompanied by a blond, stoutly built person whom he introduced as Mr. Shirley, of Scotland Yard.
Mr. Shirley was genial and made friends for himself right away.
"You're a sick man, I'm told, Mr. Townsend," said he, "and I'm going to begin at once what I have to say and come to an end as briefly as possible. I had best begin in South Africa where——"
"South Africa?" echoed Townsend.
Shirley nodded.
"A man named Hobart, an American," he went on, "worked in the Bloemfontein diamond mine. He was a clever scoundrel and accomplished what many another man had tried in vain to do, and that was to steal diamonds out of the workings. How he got them to the place where he lived is a mystery that has not yet been solved, for Hobart kept his plan strictly to himself and did not even let his confederate in the enterprise know how the thieving was done.
"In the house where Hobart had his rooms the diamonds were carefully secreted in the head of a particularly vicious-looking idol. Hobart used to show the idol to his friends, taking it from an iron chest where it was carefully packed in sawdust, and to which, after a few moments of exhibiting, he was always careful to return it.
"Hobart declared that the head was a fragment of the malefic Obboney, a deity of the Koromantyn, or Gold Coast, negroes. This was entirely fiction, for, it afterward developed, he had had the head carved by a man in the Portuguese settlements, and then steeped in a deadly liquor which caused it to give off a poisonous effluvia. This was intended as a protection for the stolen diamonds.
"In due course, Hobart and his confederate, Sharpe, an Australian, quit the diamond mines and prepared to leave for the States with their booty. They sailed for England, and from there took a West Indian trader for the Bahamas. When near the Bahamas, Sharpe demanded a division of the treasure. Hobart put him off with some excuse, and then, that night, mysteriously vanished with a whale boat and his iron chest, leaving Sharpe behind.
"Sharpe never found out where his treacherous comrade had gone, nor what he had done with the iron chest. Moved by a spirit of vengeance, he sailed for England and told the entire story of the theft of the diamonds to the head of the syndicate that had charge of the diamond mines. The case was placed in my hands, and I traced Hobart to Philadelphia and found that he had lived there in poverty and had finally died and been buried in the Potters Field.
"I also learned that Hobart had had a friend, a wealthy inventor named Townsend. Having reached the end of my quest, so far as Hobart was concerned, I turned my attention to finding Townsend, in the hope that he could tell me something about the iron chest.
"But Townsend seemed every whit as hard to locate as Hobart had been. He had invented a submarine and was trying it out somewhere on a long-distance cruise. I bided my time and, at last, saw an account in a daily paper of the theft of a submarine belonging to one Captain Nemo, Jr., from the Inlet at Atlantic City, and of the pursuit of the submarine by a flying machine.
"I was a little mixed by the name of Captain Nemo, Jr., but I started out to follow the flying machine. This was comparatively easy, for wherever the machine was seen it was reported to the daily press, and all I had to do was to read the newspapers. Well, to be brief, I finally reached New Orleans last night. My coming was most opportune—a stroke of luck that does not come a detective's way more than once in a lifetime.
"A big diamond robbery had occurred here. The victim was one Archibald Townsend, and there were strong rumors flying about of a head carved from wood, of an iron chest, and of the thieves mixed up in the robbery having given their nefarious attentions to Mr. Townsend before. I talked with the authorities, and they told me that they were on the trail of the robbers and were doing their utmost to apprehend them. So, I had perforce to continue my waiting game, although more than certain that I was finally on the right track.
"Imagine my surprise and satisfaction when Mr. Fetterman, here, came to my hotel, a few minutes ago, with the information that the ringleader of the thieving gang had been captured, and that the diamonds had been recovered. We came on here at once, I to explain my mission to Mr. Townsend, and Mr. Fetterman to vouch for my story."
Shirley, of Scotland Yard, sank back in his chair, his mild blue eyes roving whimsically about over the astounded faces of his listeners.
"Merciful powers!" gasped Townsend. "Can it be possible that I have been so terribly deceived in that fellow who called himself the Man from Cape Town? I was positive of his honesty, although I had not the remotestidea, at the time, of what the treasure consisted. I first met the Man from Cape Town in Philadelphia, and befriended him. He seemed grateful, and, just before he died, called me to his bedside and gave me a chart of an island in the Bahamas. The island was said to have a cave, and an iron chest was said to be in the cave. I looked upon the whole story as a fairy tale, but, as I wanted to test my submarine with a long sea cruise, promised the man I would go and look for his iron chest.
"The chest, when found, was to be brought to New Orleans and opened in the presence of a lady living in St. Charles Avenue, who, Hobart told me, was his daughter. The treasure was to be equally divided between the lady and myself.
"That iron chest seemed to draw upon me all manner of unfortunate adventures, and I regretted continually that I had ever had anything to do with it. But I had given my promise to this Man from Cape Town, and felt myself bound to carry it out to the letter. I have held strictly to that policy, and Motor Matt and his friends have stood loyally by through everything that has happened."
Shirley turned an approving glance on Motor Matt.
"I hear nothing but most excellent reports of Motor Matt," said he, "and I should like to hear from him, in detail, all that has happened while he and his friends were working to recover the diamonds for the last time."
"It will be worth listening to, I can promise you that," said Cassidy. "Whenever he does a thing, he has a way o' his own of getting at it."
All eyes were turned on Matt. He saw that he was in for it, and began at the beginning and went through with every detail of the adventures recently encountered by him and his friends.
Every one followed him closely, particularly Shirley.
"From all this it appears," said the Scotland Yard man, as soon as Matt had finished, "that in getting back these diamonds for the South African syndicate, you have lost a ten-thousand-dollar air ship——"
"It didn't cost us that," interposed Matt.
"And have endangered your life and the lives of your friends," continued the detective, without seeming to notice the interruption. "I shall include that in my report when I return the diamonds. Meanwhile, until Mr. Townsend is satisfied that I have secured stolen property, the diamonds will remain in the custody of the New Orleans police department."
Shirley reached for his hat and got up.
"I fear I have tired you, Mr. Townsend," said he, regretfully, "but it was necessary for me to see you at once and explain the mistake which, under the circumstances, it was a perfectly natural one to make. You have experienced much trouble and worry, and this can never be made up to you. As for the diamonds——"
"Take them," cried Townsend, stretching out the bag to Fetterman; "I am delighted to get rid of them and have them off my mind. And I am doubly glad that, being stolen property, a wrong is to be righted and the stones returned to their rightful owners. I don't wish to have anything done for me, Mr. Shirley. I have sufficient of this world's goods, and you have already done me the greatest favor possible by taking the diamonds off my hands. But Motor Matt and his friends, they——"
"I give you my word that they shall be looked after," finished Shirley.
Thereupon he shook hands all around, wished everybody luck and departed with Fetterman.
The fateful treasure, of course, went with them.
CONCLUSION.
If there was ever a happy man, Townsend was the one. So far from grieving him, the loss of the diamonds appeared to have done him a world of good.
"Py shinks," cried Carl, "dot vas der piggest surbrise vat efer anypody heardt aboudt! Der Man from Cape Town vas a t'ief, schust like Jurgens, und ve haf peen fighding, und vorrying, und making some fools oof ourselufs over a lod of shtolen tiamonts. Und now, ven ve lose our air ship in gedding dem pack, in valks a English feller und takes der tiamonts avay. He geds eferyt'ing und ve ged nodding—but bromises."
"Promises are pretty good things, sometimes," said Townsend, "when they are made by the right sort of fellow. But you and your friends will not be anything out, Motor Matt. This Shirley means to do what is right, and you will be well repaid for the loss of theHawkand for your time and trouble."
"The loss of theHawkis the worst of it," mourned Dick. "That strikes me harder than anything else."
"She was a wonderful air ship," said Townsend, "and I don't blame you for feeling cut up over her loss. But Motor Matt can build another."
"I think I will leave the air-ship business for a while," said Matt, "and get into something else. I suppose," he went on, shifting the subject, "that the English detective will see that Jurgens gets the full extent of the law?"
"There's no doubt," averred Townsend, "but that Jurgens will pay dearly for his last attempt to get away with those fated diamonds."
"And if Whistler and Bangs are captured, they'll share the same fate. Officers are looking for them now."
"I don't think the officers will catch them, Matt," said Townsend.
"The trail is hot and Whistler and Bangs will have to travel on foot."
"Even at that, Whistler knows that part of the country too well. Jurgens, I am sure, is the only member of the gang who will ever be brought to book. But I am satisfied. He is the most culpable, and Whistler and Bangs were only tools."
"What do you think about the way I let Dashington go, Mr. Townsend?" asked Matt, anxiously.
"Whatever you do, my lad, is all right so far as I am concerned. On the face of it, it would look as though you had done wrong; but you were placed in a position where you could learn what Dashington really was. If, armed with that knowledge, you thought it right to set him free, I don't see why any one should find fault with your judgment."
Matt was glad to have this approval. He felt in his own heart he had done right, but he wanted to know how others felt about it.
"You'd better take a little rest now, cap'n," said Cassidy. "You've been under a good deal of a strain to-night, and the doctor said you——"
"The strain, as you call it, Cassidy," interrupted Townsend, with a laugh, "has done me good. Don't go, Matt," he added, seeing that Matt and his friends were reaching for their hats, "I'm not quite through with you yet."
"I'll drop in and see you to-morrow," said Matt. "I guess you've talked enough for to-night."
"I'm so pleased over getting rid of those diamonds that I feel as though I could talk all night. You say that you think, now that theHawkhas been destroyed, you'll get into some other line of business."
"Yes; something connected with gasoline motors, of course. I couldn't break away from the motors, you know."
"Why not go in for submarines?"
"I had thought of that, but couldn't see any place where there was an opening."
Dick and Carl looked disturbed.
"I can offer you an opening."
"Iss dere some obenings for more as one, Misder Downsent?" inquired Carl.
"I'm a little bit interested in that point myself," added Dick. "I don't like to see this combination of King, Ferral & Pretzel broken up."
"It needn't be broken up," said Townsend, "for I am sure I can take care of all three of you."
"Just what kind of an opening is it, Mr. Townsend?" asked Matt.
"I will tell you about that later. You remember, I think, that I asked you to come to New Orleans to help me in some work that had nothing to do with the iron chest or the treasure of the Man from Cape Town?"
"I remember that, yes, sir," said Matt.
"We haven't got down to that business yet, and, as I told Carl, some time ago, it's thrilling, exciting and a bit dangerous."
"Und, as I toldt you, Misder Downsent," put in Carl, "dot's der fery t'ing vat ve like. Life vouldt be some treary blaces mitoudt oxcidement to lifen t'ings oop."
"Before we had a chance to get at this other work of mine," continued Townsend, "something connected with that iron chest would bob up and the other business had to be sidetracked. Now, however, I think we can get at it without anything to interfere. But the matter will have to hold over until I am better than I am now. Perhaps it will be a week before I will be able to discuss the affair with you. Meanwhile, may I ask you to remain in New Orleans, at my expense, for that length of time?"
"Certainly, Mr. Townsend, if it will oblige you we will stay here for a week," answered Matt.
"I'm obliged to you—to all of you. Now, I know, you're fagged out and in need of rest, so I won't keep you any longer. I suppose you will take that automobile to the police department and leave it with them to be turned over to the firm to whom it belongs?"
"We'll do that," said Matt, "before we go to our hotel."
"It would be wise, I think, to get it off your mind as soon as possible. And I have your promise to stay in town for a week?"
"Yes."
"Then I know you'll stay, for"—and here Townsend gave a confident smile—"I know that Motor Matt's word is as good as his bond."
He shook hands with the motor boys, and they went out of the house, got into the automobile and headed the machine back toward town.
THE END.
THE NEXT NUMBER (15) WILL CONTAIN
MOTOR MATT'S SUBMARINE;
OR,
The Strange Cruise of theGrampus.
A Startling Report—Mixed Messages—Hurry-up Orders—Accident or Design—Sixty Shows His Hand—An Unexpected Rescue—A Fruitless Search—The Overturned Boat—Adrift in the Storm—The Derelict—The Schooner—A Stunning Surprise—Closing In—The "Grampus" Gets a Clue—An Ultimatum—"Off with the Old, and On with the New."
A Startling Report—Mixed Messages—Hurry-up Orders—Accident or Design—Sixty Shows His Hand—An Unexpected Rescue—A Fruitless Search—The Overturned Boat—Adrift in the Storm—The Derelict—The Schooner—A Stunning Surprise—Closing In—The "Grampus" Gets a Clue—An Ultimatum—"Off with the Old, and On with the New."
NEW YORK, May 29, 1909.
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