Motor Matt's Prize; or, The Pluck That Wins

by Stanley R. Matthews

  CHAPTER IX.

  FIREBUGS AT WORK.

  Sunday was a beautiful and a quiet day at the boathouse by the Point.Mendota, otherwise "Fourth," Lake was never fairer. Across the ripples,glimmering in the sun, the city of Madison lifted itself out of a massof green foliage like a piece of fairyland.

  The lake was alive with motor boats, sailboats and rowboats. Matt andMcGlory, sitting in the shade on the little pier in front of theirtemporary home, idled and dreamed away the afternoon until, aboutfour o'clock, a snappy little launch, equipped with canopy and wickerchairs, untangled itself from the maze of boats out in the lake andpushed toward the cove.

  "Visitors!" exclaimed Matt, jumping out of his chair.

  "Speak to me about that!" grumbled McGlory. "Now we've got to get intoour collars and coats and spruce up. Oh, hang it! I like a boiled shirtabout as well as I like the measles."

  Mr. Lorry, his daughter, Ethel Lorry, and George were occupying thewicker chairs under the canopy, while Gus, the Lorry chauffeur, was atthe bulkhead controls.

  George waved his hand. Matt returned the salutation and dartedincontinently into the boathouse to fix himself up. Ethel Lorry was afine girl and a great admirer of the king of the motor boys, and Mattfelt it a duty to look his best.

  By the time the boat drew up in front of the boathouse Matt andMcGlory, in full regalia, were out to welcome their guests.

  Lorry, senior, and his daughter were firm friends of Motor Matt. Theyrealized fully how much the young motorist had done for George.

  "A surprise party, Matt!" cried George. "I'll bet you weren't expectingthe Lorrys, eh?"

  "Always glad to receive callers," smiled Matt, grabbing the rope Gusthrew to him and making it fast to a post.

  "We've got to see the _Sprite_, Matt," said Ethel. "All our hopes arewrapped up in the _Sprite_, you know."

  "And in Motor Matt," chuckled the millionaire, beside her.

  A vivid flush suffused Ethel's cheeks, though just why her emotionsshould express themselves was something of a mystery.

  The party debarked and was conducted into the boathouse. Matt openedthe doors at the other end of the building and admitted a good lightfor inspecting the boat.

  All three of the boys were intensely proud of the _Sprite_. In herfresh coat of varnish she looked as spick and span as a new dollar.

  McGlory was a nephew of Mr. Lorry's, and, while he was explainingthings at one end of the boat to "Uncle Dan," Matt was performing thesame service for Ethel at the other end of the craft.

  When Mr. Lorry and Ethel had expressed their admiration for the_Sprite_, and their confidence in her ability to "lift" the cup,chairs were carried out on the pier. McGlory went across the lake forice cream, and the party visited gayly until sunset. When the launchdeparted, George remained behind, having expressed his intention ofstaying with his friends at the boathouse that night.

  Ping was engaged in clearing up the dishes--part of the campequipment--on which the ice cream had been served, and McGlory wasmaking the doors at the other end of the boathouse secure. Dusk wasfalling gently, and overhead the stars were beginning to glimmer ina cloudless sky, soft as velvet. It was a time for optimism, and alulling sense of security had taken possession of all the boys.

  "The clouds don't seem to be gathering very much, after all, George,"remarked Matt.

  "I must have been mistaken about Merton," returned George. "That rollof drawings, I suppose, has convinced him that the changes we weremaking in the _Sprite_ were not of enough account to worry him."

  McGlory came from the boathouse in time to hear the words.

  "We've got Merton fooled," he chuckled, dropping down in a chair, "andI ain't sure but that it's the best thing that ever happened to us, thetheft of those drawings."

  "That's the way it may turn out, Joe," agreed Matt. "Still, even ifMerton knew exactly what we had done to the _Sprite_ I don't see how hecould help matters any. The _Dart_, from what I can hear, is supposedto be by long odds the fastest boat on the lakes. How could he improveon her, even if Merton knew the _Sprite_ was a dangerous rival?"

  "Merton wouldn't try to improve on the _Dart_," returned Lorry. "Whathe'd do would be to make an attempt to make the _Sprite_ less speedythan she is."

  "I'd like to catch him at that!" exclaimed McGlory. "That tinhorn wouldhave to hip lock with me some if he ever tried to tamper with the_Sprite_ while Joe McGlory was around."

  "He'd make sure there wasn't anybody around, George," said Lorry,"before he tried any of his underhand games. I've been thinking overthe loss of those drawings, Matt," he went on, after a pause, "andit strikes me that they weren't stolen by Merton, after all, but byPickerel Pete."

  "What!" cried the cowboy, "that sawed-off moke?"

  "I've thought a little on that line myself," observed Matt. "Pete wasmad, when he left us up there in the path, and he could have circledaround through the bushes and reached the boathouse before we got downto it with Ping."

  "That's it!" assented George. "He hadn't any idea what sort of paperswere in the roll, but they were handy to him as he looked throughthe window, and so he gathered them in. Of course, Pete knew thatthe papers would be valuable to Merton, if to anybody. It's a deadopen-and-shut that he carried them at once to the commodore."

  "Which may account for the commodore layin' back on his oars and notbotherin' us any while we've been jugglin' with the _Sprite_," deducedMcGlory. "We're all to the good, pards, and your Uncle Joe is as happyover the outlook as a Piute squaw with a string of glass beads. I'mfeelin' like a brass band again, and----"

  "Don't toot, Joe, for Heaven's sake," implored George. "You've gotabout as much music in you as a bluejay."

  "Some fellows," returned McGlory gloomily, "don't know music when theyhear it. It takes a cultivated ear to appreciate me when I warble."

  "I don't know about that," laughed George, "but I do know that it takessome one with a club to stop you after the warbling begins. When areyou going to 'warm up' the _Sprite_, Matt?" he asked, turning to theking of the motor boys. "Every ship has got to 'find herself,' youknow. We've Kipling's word for that."

  "Then," smiled Matt, "the _Sprite_ is going to begin finding herself inthe gray dawn of to-morrow morning. Glad you made up your mind to staywith us to-night, Lorry. I was going to suggest it, if you hadn't. Iwant you and Joe to hold a stop-watch on the boat."

  "I wish we had one of those patent logs," muttered Lorry. "They go onthe bulkhead, and work hydrostatically--no trailing lines behind."

  "Too expensive, George," said Matt. "Besides, we didn't have time tobother installing one."

  "You're the most economical chap I ever heard of, Matt," said Lorryjestingly, "especially when you're using another fellow's money."

  "Sufferin' bankrolls!" mourned McGlory, "I wish some one would be kindenough to ask me to spend his money."

  "Dad told me, when we began fixing up the _Sprite_," went on Lorry,"that he wanted me to be sure and let Motor Matt have free play, nomatter what it cost. That's the way the governor feels. There has beena big change in him, Matt, and you're the cause of it."

  "That's all the more reason, George," answered Matt, "why I should notabuse his confidence."

  "I guess dad knows that, and that it has a lot to do with the way youstack up in his estimation. He'd trust you with a million."

  "I'm glad he feels that way. There isn't any sign of a storm, Joe,"Matt added to the cowboy, "but we must keep up our guard duty just thesame."

  "Keno! We're not going to let Merton and his outfit catch us napping,if that's their plan. I'll stand guard to-night."

  "I'll divide the duty with you, Joe," put in Lorry. "I'll take thefirst watch, and will call you at midnight."

  "That hits me plumb. I can snooze in good shape for half the night.We'll let Matt put in full time--he needs it."

  "Matt ought not to do a thing between now and Tuesday but rest,"asserted George. "He's got to be fit as a fiddle for that race."

  "I'm generally in shape for what
ever comes my way," laughed Matt,getting up and yawning. "Right now's when I'm going to turn in, and youcan bank on it that I'll sleep like Rip Van Winkle up in the Catskills.You'll see something surprising in the morning, fellows! If the_Sprite_, after she gets warmed up, can't do her mile in better thanthree minutes, I'm no prophet."

  "If she does that," jubilated McGlory, "we're apt to have the _Dart_lashed to the mast."

  "Good night," said Matt.

  The parting word was returned, and the king of the motor boys followedthe wall of the dark boathouse past the well and on by the workbench tohis cot.

  Inside of two minutes he had turned in, and inside of three he was indreamless slumber.

  How long Matt slept he did not know, but it must have been well beyondmidnight when he was awakened. He was half stifled, and he sat up inhis cot struggling for breath.

  A yellowish gloom was all around him, and a vague snap and crackle cameto his ears.

  Suddenly, like a blow in the face, the realization came that thesmothering fog was _smoke_, and that the flickering yellow that playedthrough it was _flame_.

  "Fire!" he yelled, springing from the cot. "Lorry! McGlory! Where areyou?"

  Matt's only answer was the whirring rush of the fire and the weirdsnapping as the flames licked at the wood. For a moment the heat andthe smoke almost overcame him, and he reeled backward against the wall.