Motor Matt's Air Ship; or, The Rival Inventors

by Stanley R. Matthews

  CHAPTER III.

  THE BALLOON HOUSE.

  "Yah!" shouted Carl. "Vat I dell you, Matt? I knew dere vas somet'ingder madder! Dem two fellers vas t'ieves, und dey haf shtole derair-ship. Py shinks, dey haf got demselufs indo drouple, und it vasgoot enough for dem. Vat you going to do?"

  Matt had begun turning the machine in the road. When he had pointed itthe other way, he started off at a swift pace on the trail of the twomen in the buggy.

  "We'll try and overhaul those two fellows," answered Matt, "and tellthem what we know. The information we've picked up may be valuable tothem."

  "Dey don't vas endidled to it," averred Carl. "Vy ditn't dey shtop undask us somet'ings? Anyvay, how can dey ketch a flying machine mit ahorse und puggy? You mighdt as vell dry to ketch a sky rocket mit apapy carriage."

  "The Hawk will have to come down," said Matt, "and if those men areanywhere near it when it hits the earth they'll be able to recover themachine and catch the thieves."

  "Oof der machine hits der eart' so hardt as vat I t'ink, it von't bevort' nodding, nor der t'ieves neider."

  "There's a chance that the rascals will come down safely. If those menin the buggy had had their wits about them, they'd have hitched theirrig to the fence and have jumped into the automobile. We could havehustled them over the ground four times as fast as they were going."

  A few moments later the boys reached a place where the road branched.The horse and buggy were not in sight along either road.

  "Vich vay now?" queried Carl.

  "It's all guesswork," answered Matt, "but it's always a pretty goodplan to keep to the right," and, with that, he drove the car along theright-hand branch.

  After five minutes of fast running, they had not overtaken the rig andit was still not to be seen anywhere ahead. The boys knew they hadbeen traveling three or four times as fast as the two men were going,and that, if they were on the right track, the men should have beenovertaken long before.

  Disappointedly, Matt halted the car and turned it in the otherdirection.

  "No use, Carl," said he. "Those men must have taken the left-hand forkinstead of the right. They're too far away, now, for us to think offinding them. We'll hike for South Chicago."

  "Dot's der pest t'ing dot ve can do," returned Carl. "Ve'll find derowner oof der Hawk und gif him der trag-rope und der bapers."

  "We won't find him. He must have been one of those two men in thebuggy. Probably we can find where he lives, though, and turn the ropeand the papers over to some one who will give them to him."

  "Meppy ve pedder take der shtuff to der bolice, hey? Oof der fellersvas t'ieves, dot enfellup mighdt gif der bolice a line on dem."

  "There's something in that, too," muttered Matt. "We'll try to find theowner of the Hawk, though, before we call on the police."

  An hour later, the boys came into South Chicago along a turnpike thatpassed the rolling mills. A man on a motor-cycle was just coming out ofa fenced enclosure near one of the mills, and Matt halted him for thepurpose of making a few inquiries. From his looks, the man was of someconsequence in the steel rail plant, and probably was well-informed asto affairs in South Chicago.

  "Do you know of any one around here that has an air-ship?" asked Matt.

  The question was something of a novelty, and the man laughed as herested one foot on the ground and balanced his motor-cycle upright.

  "I suppose air-ships will be thicker'n hops, one of these days," saidhe, "but just now they're about as seldom as hen's teeth. I understandthere are a couple of men here who are working at air-ships--oneof them came to the mills to see if he couldn't get some aluminumcastings. He's got a balloon house about a quarter of a mile down theroad, on the left. Drop in there and maybe you'll find the man--and theship, too."

  Matt thanked the man and followed him slowly as he sputtered off intotown.

  The balloon house, which was plainly visible from the road, was a long,high shed, and occupied a solitary position in the midst of a marshyfield. The doors in one end of the shed, arranged in a series andreaching from ground to roof peak, were open.

  Leaving the automobile at the roadside, the boys climbed a fence andmade their way across the flat ground to the big house. On reaching theopened doors, one glance showed them that there was no air-ship in theshed.

  On the earth floor, along one side of the great room, were two orthree work benches and a litter of wood and metal scraps. There wasalso, in the farther end of the chamber, a number of small tanks,presumably used for the manufacture of hydrogen gas. As the boys stoodin the doorway, two brawny men showed themselves from behind thesetanks. They wore greasy overclothes and their sleeves were rolled up.

  "Get out of here!" yelled one of the men. "We don't allow any reportersaround this shebang."

  "We're not reporters," answered Matt, standing his ground. "Do you keepan air-ship here?"

  "Well, that's what this big shed is for."

  The two men came closer to the boys, one of them filling and lighting acob pipe as he approached.

  "Is the name of it the 'Hawk?'" went on Matt.

  "Right again," said the man who had been doing the talking.

  His eyes were like gimlets, and bored their way into Matt throughnarrow slits.

  "Who's the owner of the Hawk?" asked Matt.

  "I'm the owner, and my name's Hector Brady. If Jerrold has sent youhere----"

  "I don't know any one by the name of Jerrold. Who is he, and why shouldhe send me here?"

  The sharp little eyes continued to study Matt.

  "Before I say anything more," answered Brady, "you'd better tell me alittle about yourself."

  "I don't know as that's necessary, or----"

  "You'd know how necessary it is if you were inventing machines andtrying to keep your appliances a secret. I'm not the only man in SouthChicago that's perfecting an air-ship. A fellow named Jerrold has cutinto the same game, and he has some one nosing around here a good shareof the time, trying to get wise to something. If Jerrold has sent youhere----"

  "He hasn't," broke in Matt. "I don't know Jerrold from Adam."

  "What's your name?"

  "King, Matt King."

  Brady gave a jump.

  "You don't mean to say you're the young Western phenomenon theLestrange people have brought to Chicago to run in that five-dayautomobile race that's turned on at the Coliseum to-morrow?"

  "I'm one of their racers," answered Matt. "They have four more in therace besides me."

  "Well, by thunder!" Brady stood off and regarded Matt as though he wasa natural curiosity. "Why, you're no more than a kid! They had yourpicture in the paper, after that Kansas race, but you're a heap youngerthan I thought. I guess you've forgotten more about gasolene-motorsthan a whole lot of people ever knew."

  "Oh, it isn't so bad as that. I came here to do you a good turn, Mr.Brady, and I can't see the sense of raking up my past history. Yourair-ship has been stolen, hasn't it?"

  "Stolen?" Brady gave another startled jump. "Not that anybody knows of.Why? What put that in your head?"

  Matt was "stumped." He looked blankly at Carl and found that Carl hadturned an equally blank look at him.

  "Where is the Hawk now?" queried Matt.

  "She went out on a trial spin with three men in the car. Expect herback any moment."

  There was a shifty look in Brady's face, and he spoke in a fashion thataroused Matt's suspicions.

  "Then the Hawk wasn't stolen and you didn't send two men with a horseand buggy to look for her?" queried Matt. "We saw the air-ship, butthere were only a couple of men in the car and the machine was out ofcontrol. We tried to stop the craft by means of the drag-rope, but therope broke loose and the Hawk got away. One of the men on board droppeda roll of papers out of his coat-pocket and we picked it up."

  Brady looked at the other man. The glances they exchanged weresignificant, and both swore softly.

  "Here's a purty kettle o' fish!" growled the fellow with the pipe."What dy'ye s'pose has happened, Br
ady?"

  Brady muttered something unintelligible, and whirled to Matt with ascowl.

  "That roll of papers belongs to me," said he. "Just pass 'em over,King."

  "I don't know whether I ought to give them to you, Mr. Brady, or to thepolice," answered Matt, making no move to take the roll from his pocket.

  "Police!" exclaimed Brady. "What the blazes are you talking about? Thefellow on that car was working for me, and the papers belong to me."

  "Then you ought to be able to identify the roll," proceeded Matt,coolly. "What did it contain, Mr. Brady?"

  "Just papers."

  "Typewritten-papers?"

  "Well, yes, some of them were typewritten."

  "How were they tied up? In a piece of yellow paper?"

  "That's it. Hand 'em over. It's queer they got lost out of the car inthat way, but mighty lucky you picked 'em up."

  "I guess you're thinking of the wrong roll," said Matt, coolly. "Theone you've described isn't the one we found."

  "Whether the description is right or wrong, the papers are mine, andI'll have 'em!"

  Brady, in sudden temper, hurled himself at Matt. The other man, takinghis cue from Brady, jumped for Carl and grabbed him by the arm.

  "Hoop-e-la!" tuned up Carl. "Be jeerful, eferypody! Here's somet-ingvat ve ditn't oxbect!" And, with that, the Dutch boy began strugglingand using his fists.