CHAPTER VIII.
THE TROUBLE AT THE AIR SHIP.
When Carl and Ferral went on guard duty, Brady, still bound, was leftin the car of the Hawk. From the deep gloom of the billboard, Carlwatched both ways--kept his eye on the street for possible signs ofPete and Whipple, and looked occasionally toward the car to make surethat Brady was keeping quiet.
Carl always claimed to have "hunches" when anything was going wrong.He had a good many "hunches" when nothing ever went wrong, but rarelyhad anything to say when his dismal forebodings failed to make good.However, when his "hunch" struck him shortly before a bit of hard luck,he was sure to brag about it.
One of the shivery feelings which Carl supposed to be a "hunch" hadbeen on him ever since they had started from the balloon house. Insteadof finding Dave Glennie, the city detective, by the old quarry, thechums had run into Hector Brady; and, right after that, they had had anencounter with Pete and Whipple, and had got away by a narrow margin.
This amount of trouble ought to have been sufficient for any ordinary"hunch," but it did not satisfy Carl's. The shivery feeling still heldhim in its grip, and he was looking for something else to strike Matt,and Ferral, and himself.
Ferral, finding everything quiet in the alley, strolled around by theend of the billboard. Carl was so busy looking for trouble that he didnot see his chum coming. When he heard his step, close behind him, Carljumped about ten feet.
"Ach, vat a cholt!" he murmured, recognizing the low laugh that greetedhim when he turned around. "You hatn't ought to do dot, Verral," hewent on reproachfully. "You come pooty near shcarin' me oudt oof ayear's growt'."
"What ails you, old ship?" queried Ferral. "I never saw you in such ataking before. There must be something wrong with your top hamper."
"I don't know abudt dot," said Carl, "aber I bed my life somet'ingpooty bad iss going to habben mit us. I got der feeling in mypones--leetle didicums valkin' all droo me--lettle spookishnessfeelings like vat I can't tell hop, shkip und chumping oop my shpine.Yah, himmelblitzen, dot's der t'ing vat I feels, und it makes me vantto yell righdt oudt. You efer haf dot, Verral?"
"From your description," chuckled Ferral, "I don't think anything ofthat kind ever crossed my hawse. It must be an awful feeling, Carl."
"Ach, vorse as dot! I vas a rekular drouple parometer. Schust vatch meund you can alvays tell schust ven hardt luck is going to shdrike ModorMatt und his bards. Now, ve vill ged some more do-nighdt, I tell youdose."
"What sort of trouble will it be?"
"I don'd know dot, aber I bed you Matt is mixed oop in it. I ditn'tpelieve dot he ought to haf svallowed all dot talk Prady gif him.Anyvay, you see how Matt dook it down, und here ve are, und dere issMatt ofer der alley--und der teufel knows vat vill habben pecause oofit, I don'd."
"That old raggie of ours, Carl, generally knows what he's about. Itain't often that he gets fooled."
"Don'd I know dot? He iss der greadest feller dot efer vas, aber derpest oof dem vill make a misblay vonce und oggasionally. Matt ought tohaf let me go along mit him. He has peen gone a goot vile now, und hemay be in drouble alretty for all dot ve know."
"Matt can keep out of trouble easier than any fellow you ever saw,"answered Ferral.
"Sure! Aber I vish dot you vould go ofer py der alley und lisdenpehindt der house. See oof you can hear anyt'ing vat lisdens likedrouple."
"I'll go you, Carl," said Ferral, "not because I don't think Matt's notable to take care of himself, but just to ease up a bit on your nerves.I never saw a fellow that liked to fight better than you do, and it'smain queer you'll let a foreboding of trouble get you on the mat likethat."
"Der forepoding iss der whole drouple; oof der fighdt vould come onmitoudt dot, I vouldt be habby. Yah, so. It's der uncerdainty oof vatiss coming vat hurts."
With an amused laugh, Ferral strolled off toward the alley. Carlwatched him vanish into the deeper shadows cast by the sheds and otherbuildings, and then allowed his eyes to swerve toward the car of theair ship.
The Dutch boy had cast an apprehensive look toward the car a score oftimes without seeing anything. This time, however, he saw something,and that was the figure of a man jumping over the rail. With a wildyell he rushed toward the car. The man, running like a deer, camedirectly toward him, and Carl planted himself firmly and made ready touse his fists.
As the running form came closer, Carl made it out to be Brady.
The escaping prisoner lurched to one side in order to give Carl a wideberth.
"No, you don'd!" cried Carl, and threw himself in front of Brady. Thelatter, by a dexterous move, put out a foot and tripped the Dutch boy,sending him heels over head. While Carl was getting up, he saw Bradydisappearing around one end of the billboard.
"What's run afoul of you, mate?" demanded Ferral, hurrying to the scene.
"Prady!" answered Carl excitedly. "He has proken loose mit himseluf undrun avay!"
Carl at once started on the trail, darting around the end of thebillboard and plunging into the street. Once in the thoroughfare, hewas puzzled to know which way Brady had gone. The fellow was out ofsight and hearing, and all Carl could do was to make a guess and plungeaway.
He guessed wrong, and after he had run two blocks he made up hismind that he would go the other way and raced back. In front of thebillboard he was stopped by Matt, Ferral and some one else. It was toodark for Carl to see who the third man was.
"Hold up, Carl!" called Matt, grabbing him, "there's no use whalingaround like that."
"Prady has got avay!" cried Carl.
"So Dick was telling us. It's hard luck, and I can't understand it."
"Did you have Brady?" demanded the third member of the party.
"Vell, oof it ain'd Harris!" murmured Carl. "Vere dit you come from?"
Harris had no time, just then, for useless talk.
"Yes," said Matt, "we had Brady. He was a prisoner in the air ship, andhe loosened his ropes and made a break for his freedom. I'm all at seaand can't make head or tail of it."
"If he's in this town," proceeded Harris, "he can be captured, butwe'll have to call on the police authorities here. However, now thatBrady's got away, that can wait a few minutes. Tell me all about howyou found him."
Matt went over the event of Brady's capture at some length, tellingbriefly what Brady had told him and how he and his chums had come tobring the Hawk to the vacant lot near Hooligan's.
It was the first chance since Matt had found Harris in the house thatthe two had had to talk. Harris, as might be supposed, was amazed.
"A queer move for Brady to make," muttered the officer. "A big changemust have come over him since he went to the 'pen.' The last thing hesaid to me, when he started for Joliet, was that he'd get even withMotor Matt if it was the last thing he ever did. Either he's playingsome deep game, or else he's experienced a remarkable change of heart."
"It's a deep game he's playing, I guess," said Matt ruefully. "If not,why did he try to get away?"
"Well, he gave you a lot of information, and gave it to you prettystraight. That don't tally very well with his desire to make youtrouble. There's something about all this I can't understand."
"Brady was quite a little worked up over that automobile we heard, infront of Hooligan's, mate," put in Ferral, with a sudden thought.
"That was the automobile that brought Graydon and me from SouthChicago," explained Harris. "Pete and Whipple ran off with it. Theyused the machine to bring me to Hooligan's, and then loaded the oldwoman and the girl into it, got in themselves, and tore away."
"Do you know where they went?" asked Matt.
"No. Whipple told me, just before he left the house, that I could staywhere I was and starve to death, for all he cared. And I guess thatmight have happened if it hadn't been for you, Matt. All this tallieswith what Brady told you, and makes the whole affair look as though hewas playing on the square."
"But he bolted!" exclaimed Matt. "That goes to show that he hadsomething up his sleeve that we don't know anything
about."
The puzzled officer rubbed his bruised head thoughtfully.
"Well, you've got me," he observed finally. "I can't explain it. Itwill be a good scheme for you boys to get away from here as soon as youcan. If Pete and Whipple should show up and lay hands on the Hawk----"
"How can they do that if they went off in the automobile?"
"That's right, too. I'm reasoning like a crazy man, which shows howbadly rattled this thing has made me. Suppose you go back to those twotrees near the quarry and wait there for me? They say that lightningnever strikes twice in the same place, so probably the Hawk will besafer there than anywhere else. While you're there you might keep aneye out for Graydon. I'm going to call on the police authorities hereand get men out hunting for Brady. No matter what his game is, he hasgot to be located. And that automobile has got to be recovered. Graydonand I borrowed it, and I'd hate to have to put up three thousand for itin case it's wrecked or got away with for good. You might go along withme, Carl. I may have use for you."
At such a time the Dutch boy would rather have stayed with Matt andFerral. However, a word from Matt decided him, and he and the officerhurried off together.
The other two boys, very much disheartened over the way events hadfallen out at Hooligan's, unmoored the Hawk and started back toward thequarry. Well beyond the edge of town, Ferral, who was on the lookout inthe forward part of the car, saw something to which he called Matt'sattention.
The object was a light, almost directly underneath them, waving backand forth as though to attract their attention.
"Hello, down there!" called Matt. "Who are you?"
"Graydon," came the answer. "Is that you, King?"
"Yes."
"Well, come down and take me aboard. I've had a deuce of a time.There's a whole lot been going on that's got me queered."
"He's not the only one that's queered," muttered Ferral as Matt turnedthe nose of the Hawk earthward.
"Watch sharp, Dick," said Matt. "If there's more than one man there,tell me before it's too late for us to get away. I'm looking fortrouble everywhere to-night."
Motor Matt's Daring Rescue; or, The Strange Case of Helen Brady Page 8
