CHAPTER III.
A "DARK HORSE."
Ollie Merton was the only son of a millionaire lumberman. Themillionaire and his wife were making an extensive tour of Europe, andwhile they were away the son was in complete charge of the big Madisonmansion, with a large fund in the bank subject to his personal check.
Never before had such a chance to "spread himself" came young Merton'sway, and he was making the most of it.
The lad was commodore of the Winnequa Yacht Club, which had itsheadquarters near Winnequa, on Third Lake. Another institution, knownas the Yahara Motor Boat Club, had its boathouse on Fourth Lake; andbetween the Winnequas and the Yaharas there was the most intenserivalry.
Twice, in two years hand running, the Winnequas had contested againstthe Yaharas for power-boat honors. By winning the first race theWinnequas had secured a trophy known as the "De Lancey Cup," and bywinning the second race they still retained possession of the cup.By winning a third time the cup would pass to them in perpetuity. TheYaharas, feeling that their very existence as a club was at stake,were bitterly determined to snatch the prize from their rivals. A vastamount of feeling was wrapped up in the approaching contest.
George Lorry was vice commodore of the Yahara Club. In a secretsession, months before, the Yaharas had commissioned Lorry to carrythe honors of the club and secure a boat which would outrun any theWinnequas might put in the field.
Lorry, no less than Merton, was the son of a rich man. Withoutconsulting his father, Lorry ordered a five thousand-dollar hydroplane,and, at the last moment, parental authority stepped in and denied theyoung man such an extravagance.
George Lorry at this time had rather more pride and conceit than weregood for him. His father's action, in the matter of the hydroplane,stung him to the quick. He felt that he had been humiliated, and thathis comrades, the Yaharas, were giving him the cold shoulder on accountof his failure to "make good" with a winning boat.
George had been wrong in this, but, nevertheless, he resigned fromthe boat club and went to the other extreme of making a friend andassociate of Ollie Merton.
Merton, recognizing in Lorry the only source of danger to the prestigeof the Winnequas, had advised George to do certain things with theobject of clearing a rival from the field during the forthcoming race.
That Merton had advised unscrupulous acts, and that Lorry had tried tocarry them out, matters little. Motor Matt met Lorry at just the righttime to keep him from doing something which he would have regretted tothe end of his days.
Very recently Lorry had discovered the false friendship of Merton, and,coming to see the folly of what he had done in a misguided moment, hadgone back to the Yaharas and requested a renewal of the commission tofurnish a boat for the coming race that would regain the De Lancey cupfor his club. Lorry had been received by his former comrades with openarms, and they had immediately acceded to his request.
From this it will be understood how great a stake George Lorry hadin the third contest with the Winnequas. Apart from the intense clubspirit which prompted a winning boat at any cost, there was a personalside to the issue which meant everything to Lorry.
Merton's specious counsel, given for the purpose of getting Lorry outof the race, had almost brought Lorry to ruin. Now, to best Mertonin the contest had come to be regarded by Lorry as almost a personaljustification.
To Motor Matt young Lorry had turned, and the king of the motor boyshad promised a boat that would regain the lost prize for the Yaharas.
Matt felt that the _Sprite_, with certain changes, could beat anythingon the lakes. Lorry shared his confidence, and Matt was working nightand day to get the swift little eighteen-foot launch in shape for"warming up" on the water before the regatta.
The theft of the drawings was the first backset Matt and Lorry hadreceived. Well aware of Merton's questionable character, it was easyfor the lads to believe that he had slipped into the boathouse whilethey were up the bank and had taken the plans; or he need only havecome to the window and reach in in order to help himself to them.
Lorry was terribly cut up.
"Merton has got the better of us," he muttered disconsolately. "He'llknow just what we're going to do with the _Sprite_ now, and will makechanges in the _Wyandotte_, or else arrange for another boat to stackup against us. It's too late for us to order another boat, and we'llhave to go on with the _Sprite_ and look at Merton's heels over thefinish line. Oh, thunder! I wish this Chink and that Pickerel Pete werein the bottom of the lake!"
Noticing the scowl Lorry gave him, Ping slunk away from his vicinity,and came closer to where Matt was walking thoughtfully back and forthacross the floor of the boathouse.
"Don't lose your nerve, Lorry," counseled Matt, coming to a halt andleaning against the work-bench. "No fellow ever won a fight unless hewent into it with confidence."
"It's all well enough to talk of confidence," grumbled Lorry, "but thisis enough to undermine all the hopes we ever had."
"Looked at in one way, yes. Those were my working drawings. Theycontained all the measurements of the _Sprite's_ hull, my plans forchanging the gasoline tanks from the bow aft where they would notbring the boat down so much by the head, also my arrangement for a newreversing-gear, the dimensions of the motor, and the size and pitch ofour new propeller."
Lorry groaned.
"Why, confound it!" he cried, "Merton will be able to figure out justwhat the _Sprite's_ speed should be--and he can plan accordingly foranother boat. There's a way of getting those plans away from him, byJupiter!" He started angrily to his feet.
"How?" asked Matt quietly.
"The police," returned Lorry.
"No, not the police! We don't know that Merton has the plans; it's apretty safe guess, all right, but we don't absolutely know. When youcall in the law to help you, George, you've got to be pretty sure ofyour ground."
Lorry dropped back in his chair dejectedly, and Matt resumed histhoughtful pace back and forth across the room.
"I've thought for the last two days," Matt went on finally, "thatMerton was rather free in showing off the _Wyandotte_. He has her overhere in Fourth Lake when she belongs in Third, and he's trying her outon the other side of Picnic Point, almost under our noses. I'm not surebut that Merton wants us to see his boat's performances."
"Then he's not running the _Wyandotte_ at her racing speed, Matt,"averred Lorry. "He's only pretending to, hoping that we'll watch herwork and get fooled."
"He'll not fool us much. The _Wyandotte_ is a thirty-seven-footer,five-foot beam, semi-speed model. She has a two-cylinder, twenty-horse,two-cycle engine, five-and-three-quarter-inch bore by five-inch stroke.The propeller has elliptical blades, and is nineteen inches in diameterby twenty-eight-inch pitch----"
Lorry looked up in startled wonder. Motor Matt had reeled off hisfigures off-hand as readily as though reading them from a writtenmemorandum.
"Where, in the name of glory, did you find out all that?" gasped Lorry.
Matt smiled.
"Why," said he, "I got them in a perfectly legitimate manner from thebuilder of the boat, who lives in Bay City. The name of the builderwas easily learned, and a letter did the rest. The _Wyandotte_ can logfourteen or fifteen miles--no trouble to find that out with pencil andpaper, since we have all those dimensions. Now, the _Sprite_, as shewas, could do her mile in four-twelve--possibly in four--and Mertonknows it. Why, then, is he showing off a boat that is not much betterthan the _Sprite_ has been all along? Take it from me, Lorry," and Mattspoke with supreme conviction, "the _Wyandotte_ is not the boat theWinnequas will have in the race. _There's another one_, and I've feltmorally sure of it all along."
"You're a wonder!" muttered Lorry. "Why, you never told me you'dwritten to Bay City about the _Wyandotte_."
"I intended to tell you at the proper time."
"Well, if Merton is going to spring a surprise boat on us the day ofthe race, that makes it so much the worse."
"I have other plans for changing the _Sprite_, but I have been holding
them back until I could make sure Merton was holding another speedboat in reserve. Those plans weren't in that roll that was stolen,George; as a matter of fact, they're not down on paper at all. From thedrawings and memoranda Merton has secured he can figure the improved_Sprite's_ speed at a little less than sixteen miles an hour. Let himfigure that way. The other plans I have will enable her to do twenty."
Lorry bounded off his chair.
"Twenty?" he cried. "Matt, you're crazy!"
Before Matt could answer, Joe McGlory staggered into the boathouse,dragging a motor cycle after him. Both he and the wheel were splashedwith mud, and bore other evidences of wear and tear, but the cowboy'seyes were bulging with excitement.
"You've been gone two hours longer than I thought you'd be, Joe," saidMatt, studying his chum with considerable curiosity. "What's happened?"
"That's it!" exploded McGlory, breathlessly, leaning the motor cycleagainst the bench. "Speak to me about that! Sufferin' thunderbolts! butI've made a whale of a discovery."
"What is it?" demanded George, wildly impatient.
"Why," cried McGlory, "Merton's got another boat, and she's certainlya blue streak, if I know the brand. The fat's in the fire, pards. Ifthe poor old _Sprite_ gets into a race with this new boat of Merton's,she'll be in the 'also ran' column."
Lorry collapsed.
"A dark horse!" exclaimed Matt. "I'd have bet a farm Merton wasplanning to spring something like that. Buck up, Lorry! Perhaps thisisn't so bad, after all. Tell us about it, Joe."
Motor Matt's Prize; or, The Pluck That Wins Page 3
