CHAPTER V.
AN ORDER TO QUIT.
This unexpected attack, coming so suddenly, had taken Matt at adisadvantage. He fought as well as he could, in the circumstances, butthere were too many against him.
There were eight of his foes, all told, and Matt was carried into thetimber at one side of the road and dropped unceremoniously in a smallcleared space. Bounding to his feet, he stood staring about him.
His eight enemies had formed a narrow circle, hemming him in. Theywere all young fellows, well dressed, and carried themselves with anair of firmness and determination. The face of each was covered with ahandkerchief, which left only the eyes visible.
"What are you trying to do?" demanded Matt angrily.
"Don't lose your temper, Motor Matt," answered one of the eight, in avoice that was plainly disguised. "We're not going to hurt you--now. Dowhat we want you to and we'll remain good friends. All we've stoppedyou for is to have a little talk."
"Did you have to head me off with a rail in order to have a littletalk?" asked Matt sarcastically.
"We wanted to make sure of you for about five minutes, and this was theonly way we could think of. We were going over to your boathouse, butsaw you coming down the hill from the point, and thought we'd betterlay for you."
"Well," said Matt, "here I am. Hurry up with your talk. I'm in a rush,and don't want to stop here long."
"We want to ask you a question: You're a professional motorist, aren'tyou?"
"I've driven a racing automobile, if that's what you mean."
"They say you know gasoline motors forward, backward, and sideways."
"I've studied them, and I've worked in a shop where they were made."
"Then I guess we've got you dead to rights. Do you want to make ahundred dollars?"
"That depends on how I'm to make it," answered the king of the motorboys, immediately suspicious.
"You won't have much to do. We'll give you the money now if you promiseto leave town to-night, and not come back to this section for a month."
"Oh!" exclaimed Matt, a light suddenly dawning upon him. "You'rerepresentative members of the Winnequa Club, I take it, and you want tokeep me from running Lorry's boat in that race."
"We don't care how you take it," was the sharp retort. "The questionis, will you accept that hundred and get out?"
"Certainly not," said Matt promptly.
There was a silence. One lad was doing all the talking, the othersremaining silent and watchful.
"Will you leave for two hundred?" went on the spokesman.
"No," was Matt's indignant response, "nor for two thousand! What do youfellows take me for? I'm George Lorry's friend, and I'm going to seehim through this racing contest."
"I don't think you will," was the significant answer. "You probablyhave an idea you will, but you'll change your mind before you're manydays older."
"I understand," observed Matt quietly, "that your club is composed ofpretty decent fellows. I'm pretty sure the rest of the members don'tknow what you eight are doing."
"That's nothing to you. You're a professional racer."
"There's nothing in the rules governing the race that bars out aprofessional driver," said Matt.
"That may be, but it's hardly fair to stack up a professional driveragainst an amateur."
"Halloran is not an amateur," returned Matt. "He has handled motorboats for two years. I happen to know this. If Halloran is going todrive Merton's boat, I don't think you fellows can complain if I driveLorry's."
Matt's knowledge regarding Halloran must have staggered the eightmasked youths. Silence reigned again for a space, one set of eyesencountering another and the glance traveling around the circle.
The king of the motor boys was studying those around him. One of theeight he believed to be Ollie Merton, although of that he could not besure. Merton must have made good time from Third Lake, if he had leftthe _Dart_, crossed the city, and come around Fourth Lake to that point.
"We're not here to discuss Halloran," went on the young fellow who wasdoing the talking for the rest of his party. "We don't want you backingup young Lorry. There are going to be some bets made on that race, andwe want Merton's boat to have a cinch. If what we've heard of you istrue, you're deep, and when you go into a thing you go in to win. Ifyou won't take a couple of hundred and leave town, how much will youask to throw the race?"
Matt stiffened, and his eyes flashed dangerously. Once before, in thecourse of his career, an insult of that sort had been offered him. Thatwas in Arizona, and a gambler had approached him and offered him moneyto "throw" a bicycle race on which the gambler and his friends had beendoing some heavy betting.
Matt had principles, hard and fast principles which he knew to be rightand on which he would not turn his back. He had never seen any goodcome of betting, and he was against it.
"I guess," said he sharply, "that if you know me better you wouldn'tmake such a proposition. I'm a friend of Lorry's, and I'm going tostand by him. Not only that, but if you fellows have been foolishenough to bet on Merton's boat, I'll do my best to see that you loseyour money. I guess that finishes our talk. Break away and let me goon."
"Don't be in a rush," growled the spokesman. "If you won't take ourmoney and leave town, and if you won't throw the race for a share ofthe proceeds, then we'll hand you an order which you'll do well toobey. It's an order to quit. Understand? You're an outsider and wedon't want you around here."
"So is Halloran an outsider," said Matt caustically. "He comes fromMilwaukee."
"We're talking about you, now, and not about Halloran. Lorry has got tostand on his own pins. He's got money enough to see him through thisrace without any of your help."
"You're a one-sided lot, you fellows," went on Matt. "All you say aboutLorry applies equally well to Merton. Why don't Merton 'stand on hisown pins,' as you call it? And why do you ask more of Lorry than you doof Merton?"
"That's our business," snapped the other.
Matt laughed.
"The trouble with you fellows," said he, "is that you're scared. Youthink the _Wyandotte_ has got a little more than she can take care ofin the _Sprite_. What kind of sportsmen are you, anyhow, when you tryto load your dice before you go into this game?"
Matt's mention of the _Wyandotte_ was made with the deliberateintention of hoodwinking the eight. By speaking as he did the maskedyouths would infer that Matt and Lorry knew nothing, as yet, about the_Dart_.
That Matt's remark had gone home was evident from the quick looks thatpassed around the circle over the tops of the handkerchiefs.
"We've got you down pretty fine, Motor Matt," pursued the spokesman,who could not bring himself to give up the attempt to influence Matt."If it hadn't been for you, George Lorry would be in San Francisconow. You brought him back here, and you advised him to get back intothe Yahara Club and go on with the programme the Yaharas had laid downfor him. That was all your doing, and you know it."
"I'm glad to think," said Matt, with spirit, "that I had something todo with that. But you're mistaken if you think I had _everything_ to dowith it."
"I suppose this McGlory helped a little."
"He did; but the biggest help came from Lorry himself. Lorry has theright kind of stuff in him, and he'll show you, before long, that he'sworth a dozen Mertons."
This goaded one of the others into speech--and it was the one whom Mattsuspected of being Ollie Merton.
"Oh, splash! Lorry's a sissy and he always was."
It was Merton's voice, Matt felt sure of that. But the king of themotor boys wanted to make assurance doubly sure.
"_Now_ are you done?" he asked.
"You refuse to meet us half way in an amicable arrangement?"
"Your amicable arrangement," said Matt ironically, "is an insult to afellow who tries to be square. I'll have nothing to do with it, andthat's the last word."
"We're going to have the last word, my gay motorist, and from now onup to the hour of the race you and Lorry are going to have
your handsfull of trouble. The _Sprite_ will never enter the contest, and you'llsave yourself something, Motor Matt, if you obey our orders to quit.There----"
Motor Matt, watching his opportunity, had made a sudden leap forward.It was toward the side of the circle opposite the place where the chapwhom he believed to be Merton was standing.
Instantly the eight made a concerted move in that direction, leaving agap in the cordon behind Matt. Like lightning, the king of the motorboys whirled about and darted through the gap.
As he raced past the fellow he supposed to be Merton he snatched thehandkerchief from his face. The evidence, then, was plain enough.
"Merton!" shouted Matt as he bounded toward the road.
An angry yell went up behind him, followed by a crashing among thebushes as the eight began pursuit. But Matt had the lead, and he wasfortunate enough to find the motor cycle leaning against the tree nearthe place where it had been halted.
To mount, start the gasoline, switch on the spark and pedal off tookbut a few seconds. By the time Merton and his companions reached theroad Matt was sliding around a wooded bend like a shot from a gun.
Around the turn Matt was compelled to sheer off to avoid a big touringcar which, deserted and at a standstill, filled the road.
He noted, as he passed, that it was the Merton touring car. Matt hadseen the car before, and in circumstances almost as dramatic.
Motor Matt's Prize; or, The Pluck That Wins Page 5
