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

by Stanley R. Matthews

  THE BIG CYPRESS.

  The rifle cracked and the piece of boiler plate, which had been erectedas target against the bank fifty yards away, fell shattered like a paneof glass.

  "How's that, Colonel Fearon?" coolly inquired the young fellow, who hadfired the shot, as he turned to the tall, sallow-faced man who stoodbeside him.

  A curious expression crossed the latter's face, but he answeredquickly, "Amazing, Rutherford! Simply astonishing. I could never havebelieved such a thing possible. A pom-pom shell could hardly havesmashed the plate more effectually."

  The boy--he was hardly more--laughed. "I thought it would startle you,colonel. Will you feel justified in sending me up to Washington?"

  "I reckon that's the place for you to go to, Rutherford. The wardepartment'll need that new bullet of yours in their business. You meanto tell me you invented that bullet all by yourself?"

  "I did, colonel. You see, I was always fond of dabbling in chemistryand the idea for this came to me one day when I was at work in myfather's store. I didn't worry about it much, until the poor old manwent broke, and then it struck me there was money in it. It was themayor of our town, Orangeville, told me to come to you. He said thatyou could give me the proper introductions."

  "He was right," said Colonel Fearon. "I can fix you up with the properpeople. Let me have a shot."

  Lionel Rutherford handed the colonel a cartridge, which outwardlylooked precisely similar to an ordinary rifle cartridge. He then walkedacross the lawn of fine Bermuda grass, put a fresh piece of steel platein position, and came back.

  The colonel fired, and, as before, the tough steel simply sprang topieces and lay in scattered fragments on the grass.

  "I reckon there's more money in this than in keeping store," said thecolonel thoughtfully. "Rutherford, I'll be pleased if you'll stay hereat my house for a day or two till I can write to the proper people."

  Young Rutherford thanked him warmly and the two walked back toward thelong, low, wide verandaed house.

  Late that night the colonel and his son, Randal Fearon, sat together inthe well-appointed smoking room and talked earnestly in low tones.

  "There's thousands in it, father," said the younger man sharply."Thousands!"

  "I know that as well as yourself," returned the other irritably. "Butthe invention's not yours or mine."

  "What's Rutherford?" sneered Randal. "Here he is, a fellow who's neverknown anything of life, who's lived all his days in a little one-horsebackwoods town, and now he's going to roll in riches while we are onthe edge of bankruptcy."

  He paused, and glanced at his father, who sat fidgeting uneasily. Thecolonel, fine-looking man that he was, was as weak-willed as his tall,thin, sharp-faced son was strong.

  "A real nice scandal there'll be when we go smash," went on RandalFearon. "Think of the headlines. 'Fraudulent Bankruptcy. ProminentFloridian lives beyond his means.' How the yellow press'll revel in it!"

  Again the colonel moved uneasily. "I don't see how you're going to getthe specifications from him, anyhow," he said at last.

  "You leave that to me," replied Randal with sneering emphasis.

  "Look you here, Randal, I won't have any violence." For once ColonelFearon spoke decidedly.

  "I guess you needn't worry your head about that," answered Randal."I've got the whole plan cut and dried. You've asked him to stay?"

  "Yes," said the colonel. "He will stay."

  Randal laughed as if pleased. "That's all right. To-morrow we'll settleit, Pete Dally and I."

  "How?"

  "I'll tell you in the morning. Don't worry yourself. As you are soanxious to avoid it, I promise you there shall be no violence."

  Randal chuckled in ugly fashion as he got up, flung the stump of hiscigar into the fireplace, and, lighting a small hand lamp, left theroom.

  * * * * *

  "How much farther have we got to go before we run into any of this gameyou talked about, Mr. Fearon?" asked Rutherford as he stopped and wipedthe perspiration from his streaming face.

  "I thought we'd have seen a buck before now," replied Randal Fearon."We don't often have to come this far into the Big Cypress to findgame, do we, Pete?"

  "No, sah; we gen'rally finds it quite clos' to the aidge of de swamp,"said Pete, who was a burly, square-shouldered negro with a face asblack as ebony.

  Rutherford was rather puzzled. That morning Randal Fearon had suggestedthat it would be very good fun to go shooting in the Big Cypress, ahuge tract of wild, swampy forest, the edge of which was about fivemiles from Colonel Fearon's place.

  "You might try the effect of some of your explosive bullets," Randalhad suggested; and Rutherford had laughed and said that there wouldn'tbe much left of any game smaller than a buffalo or an elephant ifstruck by one of his projectiles.

  All the same, being a keen sportsman, he had willingly agreed to theshoot. What puzzled him was that they should have tramped for hoursthrough this steaming bush, which reeked with signs of game, and yetnot seen a single thing to shoot at.

  "Don't you worry. We shall find deer soon," said Randal when Rutherfordexpressed his astonishment. "We're getting near a good place now. Ireckon we'd better stop and eat our dinner first. Pete, make a fire."

  Pete Dally dropped the big haversack he was carrying over his broadshoulders, and obeyed. In a very few minutes a fire was blazing,and the fragrant fumes of frying bacon and strong coffee filled theclose, steamy air. Lionel Rutherford, tired by the long tramp and thehot-house atmosphere of the jungle, enjoyed the meal greatly.

  After they had finished they marched on again. They had left the pinetrees behind, and were pushing along a narrow track through a forestof great ilex, bastard oak, and magnolia. The undergrowth was of sawpalmetto, growing in huge, impenetrable clumps, among which the muddytrack wound in and out.

  The scent of yellow jasmine was almost stifling, but the only lifevisible was an occasional cardinal bird with its vivid crimsonplumage, or a stub-tailed water moccasin which raised its triangular,copper-hued head with an ugly hiss and dragged itself sluggishly out ofsight among the tangled herbage.

  The path was so narrow that they were compelled to walk in single file.Randal made Pete lead the way. More than once the negro had tried todrop behind, but each time Randal roughly ordered him to push ahead.

  The silence of the swamp grew as oppressive as the intense heat. Itbegan to get upon young Rutherford's nerves.

  "A tough place to get lost in," he said at last.

  Randal turned quickly. There was a queer expression on his sharp faceas he replied:

  "Yes, pretty bad, I reckon."

  Somehow, Rutherford fancied there was something sinister in his tone.

  "I don't like the chap," he thought to himself. "I wish I hadn't come."Then common sense got the better of his fears. "It's the place, not thepeople, that's worrying me. These big hamaks are worse than a desert.There you can see the sky; here it's like one great, green prison."

  "Look out, sah. Dah's a wild cat in dat tree," suddenly hissed PeteDally, and slipped out of the path into the thicket. "Quiet or yousedone frighten him."

  Rutherford, all excitement, slipped his rifle from his shoulder.

  But Randal barred his way. He was standing still, peering up into thetree indicated.

  "Where? I don't see it," he exclaimed harshly.

  "Dere it am, sah. On dat big fork," declared Pete, pointing. And thenas Randal stepped forward, the negro slipped back round a clump ofpalmetto, and Rutherford felt a hand fall sharply on his arm, whilethese words were whispered in his ear:

  "Dat man mean you no good, sah. Watch me, an' doan' do what he say."

  He turned in amazement, but Peter was already gone. He had glided back,and was standing at Randal's elbow, pointing out the exact spot wherehe alleged he had seen the cat.

  But there was no cat there now, and Rutherford wondered if there everhad been. Randal cursed Pete angrily, and once more they moved forward.

  Ru
therford, more worried than he cared to own even to himself,followed, as before, the last of the little procession.

  It was getting late and the bullfrogs had begun to bellow harshly inunseen pools in the forest. But there was no decrease in the sullenheat. Not a breath stirred the moist, stagnant air, and the fartherthey went the thicker grew the tangled vegetation till there was nolonger any sign of a path. In unbroken silence the three forced theirway through primeval forest.

  Presently trees broke away, and they stood upon the muddy marge of areedy lagoon, across the stagnant waters of which the low sun cast alurid light.

  "Here we are," said Randal Fearon sharply. "This is where the deer comedown to drink. You wait, Rutherford, in the bushes here, and you'llsoon get a shot. Pete and I will take up our places on the far side.Then whatever comes some of us will get a buck."

  "Watch me, and don't do what he says." Pete's words were ringing inRutherford's ears. He cast a glance at the negro. Pete made a quicksign, which the English boy took to mean that he was to follow insteadof remaining.

  Next moment Randal had plunged off through the palmetto with Pete athis heels.

  "What's it all mean?" muttered Rutherford angrily. "Is Fearon foolingme, or is it Pete? Of the two, I infinitely prefer the nigger. I'll dowhat he says."

  He left his shelter, and moved as quietly as possible on the track ofthe other two.

  Sure enough, they did go round the pool! Rutherford began to wonder ifhe was wrong; whether Pete for some unknown reason was fooling him.

  The going was dreadful. The ground below the almost impenetrablepalmetto was deep mud. Swarms of mosquitoes rose and stung viciously.Lionel was afraid that the crashing of the parted bushes would betrayhim.

  He knew he was falling a long way behind, and panic seized him that hemight lose the others. Though young Rutherford had lived all his lifein America, yet he had never been in a big swamp like this. The storehad kept him busy.

  At last he reached the spot which Randal had pointed out as his ownshooting station. To his horror, there was no one there. Randal andPete had both disappeared. He was alone in the tangled heart of thismonstrous swamp, and knew that without help he could never hope to findhis way out.

  After the first moment of panic Lionel Rutherford pulled himselftogether. He had plenty of pluck. He rapidly considered the situation.For some reason best known to himself Randal Fearon wished to abandonhim, to lose him in the swamp. But he himself had no idea of dying ofhunger, fever, or snakebite in this impenetrable wilderness. He had twocourses open--go back and try to find his way out along the trail theyhad come by, or follow after Randal and Pete.

  There were no objections to the first. It was a very long way, and itwas doubtful if he could find it even in broad daylight. As it was,it would be dark in an hour. Besides, Pete had certainly meant him tofollow.

  Randal must mean to spend the night in the swamp. That was clear.Therefore he must have some camping place.

  "I'll follow," muttered the boy between set teeth, and started off.

  Though the sun was not yet down, it was already dusk beneath the thickshade of the towering timber, and in the half light the trail was mostdifficult to follow. The others had long ago passed out of hearing.

  The night life of the swamp was waking. Enormous owls hooted weirdly,then came the thundering bellow of a bull alligator, and presentlyabove all these the ghastly, half-human shriek of a panther calling toits mate.

  Stumbling and struggling, Lionel hurried on. In a little he came to athick belt of tall saw grass. The two pairs of footmarks entered it,but the trails beyond were so confused with the passage of deer andother animals that the boy recognized with a shock that he could notfollow the human footsteps.

  Very near despair, he turned back. No, he could not find Randal'strail. He stopped. "I'm done!" he muttered hopelessly, and stoodstraining his ears for any sound of his former companions.

  Just then, as he was almost giving up, he caught sight of a morsel ofsomething white stuck on a broken stem beside the trail. It was a tinypiece of paper, and on it, marked with a muddy finger tip, an arrowpointing in a certain direction.

  "Pete!" exclaimed Lionel joyfully. A load rolled off his mind. Markingthe direction carefully, he pushed on fast. Now he was on the lookout,he found other signs; a broken twig, a stick, laid in the path.

  Darkness fell rapidly. There is little twilight in Florida.

  "They can't go much farther," he said. He was right. In a very shorttime the dull glow of a fire showed where the others had camped.

  "What shall I do?" he asked himself. "Go right up and tackle RandalFearon? No; he'd have some excuse ready, and I'd only get Pete intotrouble. I must wait till Randal goes to sleep."

  The mosquitoes were savage. Young Rutherford, tired and hungry, foundit maddening to wait in the damp gloom, and watch Randal gorge on thesupper which Pete cooked. Nearly two hours passed before Randal, havingfinished a cigar, rolled himself, head and all, in a blanket and laydown.

  A few minutes more, and a snore told Rutherford it was safe to venturecloser.

  Pete heard him, and glided out. The black man chuckled silently when hesaw the boy. "Reckoned you'd be along, sah. You foun' de sign Pete lef'for you. Now de firs' thing is you eat. Den we talk."

  He put corn, bread, and bacon into Rutherford's hands, and the boy madea hearty meal.

  "Now, sah," said Pete. "You see what dat man want to do. He lose you inde swamp, den go home, say you fell in de water and was drowned. Den hean' his dad, dey take dat blow-up bullet ob yours an' sell him."

  Lionel Rutherford was aghast. He had never dreamed of such wickedness.

  "But we beat dem," went on Pete, with a chuckle. "I like you, an' Ihate dat Randal."

  "What can we do?" asked Lionel eagerly.

  "Why, we play de same trick on him he try play on you. We take all destuff, go off, an' leab him. He no more find his way out of de BigCypress dan you. Only Pete know de trails."

  "That won't do, Pete," returned Lionel sharply. "I won't be any partyto murder."

  Pete was amazed. He expostulated strongly.

  "No, I'll tell you what we will do, Pete. We'll go off and hide, andlet him think he's lost. We'll follow and watch, and when he's got thesoul nearly scared out of him we'll find him again. See?"

  Pete saw. He chuckled again in high good humor. "Dat's a very finegame, sah. We play dat to-morrow morning. Now I take de things away,an' when Randal wake he find no breakfast, no Pete, no nothing."

  * * * * *

  "He done lost hisself, sure pop!" declared Pete.

  It was nine o'clock next morning, and Lionel Rutherford and the negrohad been following Randal for more than an hour.

  His language when he woke up and found Pete gone had been somethingappalling.

  Having found that this did no good, he had started off back alongthe track they had come by on the previous day, but in less thanten minutes he was off it; and the two, who followed at a discreetdistance, had watched his growing fury and fright when he found himselfquite lost in the pathless depths of the wilderness.

  "He can't go dat way much furder," observed Pete. "He gettin' down inde deal bad swamp. He go in up to his fool neck if he don't be keerful."

  Sure enough the quaking muck-land broke beneath the young scoundrel'sweight, and in he went. With a yell of fright he caught at a branch,pulled himself out, and staggered back.

  "What's he going to do now?" whispered Lionel.

  "Reckon he going climb dat tree an' see whar he am."

  Pete was right. Randal began shinning up the stem of a tall, slendertree by the water's edge, the only one which seemed to give a possibleview of any of the surrounding country. No doubt he thought he mightspot the trail from the summit.

  Rutherford, who had been staring hard at the tree, suddenly clutchedPete's arm. "What's that thing up in the branches just above him?" heasked sharply.

  Pete took a long stare. "By golly, sah, it am a snake
! An' a mighty bigone, sure!"

  Rutherford started forward, slipping a cartridge into his rifle.

  "Don't shoot, sah," whispered Pete. "Dat ain't no poison snake. It amonly a old white oak snake."

  "Looks like an ugly customer," muttered Lionel.

  At this moment Randal reached the first boughs and stood up. Themovement alarmed the snake, which raised its ugly head and hissedsharply.

  Randal heard the hiss, and, turning, saw the reptile. He gave a screamof terror, and almost lost his hold. Then he backed rapidly on to abranch which actually overhung the creek.

  "Time to end this now," said Rutherford, raising his rifle. "I shallshoot the snake."

  Pete seized his arm. "De snake won't hurt him, sah. But dey will."

  He pointed to the water. The big alligator had seen Randal, andsilently moved up till it was just beneath him. Another of almost equalsize had also risen to the surface. Yellow eyes agleam, the hideousbrutes were watching for this rash intruder upon their domain.

  At the very instant there was a snapping crackle. The bough on whichRandal cowered was breaking. And the wretched man, clinging vainly fora hold, had caught sight of the huge reptiles below. He screamed tillthe forest resounded with his agonizing cries.

  He snatched at the branches above, but could reach only twigs, whichbroke in his grasp. He was falling clean into the open jaws of thealligators.

  If Rutherford's rifle had been loaded only with an ordinary cartridgenothing could have saved Randal. It was just pure luck that he hadflung one of his explosives into the breech.

  Simultaneous with Randal's fall the rifle spoke. The bullet caught thenearest alligator on the side of the head, and the air was full ofmangled fragments of flesh and bone.

  Into this horrible geyser Randal dropped heavily and vanished.

  Next moment he rose again, and struck out madly for the bank.

  "I can't shoot again," cried Lionel. "I should kill him if I did."

  "Dere ain't no need to," said the negro. "You done scared de stuffin'out ob dat oder gator."

  "Thank goodness he's safe," exclaimed Lionel as Randal scrambled ashoreand fell in a heap on the bank. "Now we'd better get him home."

  Pete laughed. "Yes, sah. I reckon he done had enough ob de Big Cypress."

  When Randal came round Rutherford soon realized he had no more tofear. The fellow's nerve was broken. He shivered and trembled like afrightened child.

  They took him home, and then Lionel went boldly to Colonel Fearon, andtold him the whole story plump and plain. When he had finished thecolonel sat speechless. His face was gray and pinched.

  Lionel looked at him. "I shan't make any trouble for you," he saidcoolly. "All I want is those introductions. Write them now, and I'lltake them myself to Washington."

  Without a word the colonel obeyed.

  Lionel Rutherford is now a rich and rising man. Pete is his faithfulmajor-domo. Whenever Lionel gets a holiday the two go off down southfor a week or two of shooting. But they never again penetrated thedesolate depths of the Great Cypress.