Chapter X: Willoughby's Swamp

Pete kept his weapon prominently displayed, and through the gloom Matt could see the ruffian's arm partly lifted as though ready on the instant to bring the firearm into use. This alert attitude on Pete's part, however, was more for show than for anything else--at least, Matt so regarded it. Brady was not anxious to go to desperate extremes with Matt, especially since he wanted him as driver for the air-ship.

Brady, taking up a position where he could peer ahead, was scanning the dim landscape sharply.

"Swing her to the left!" he called.

Matt instantly applied the steering lever. Instead of swinging to the left, however, the Hawk made a half-turn to the right.

Up came the revolver. With a sharp cry, the girl reached up and caught Pete's arm.

"To the _left_, I said!" roared Brady.

"You'll have to give me the chance to learn the machine," answered Matt, coolly, as he continued working the lever and brought the Hawk around to the proper course. "These levers are new to me. When we steer an auto we do it with a wheel."

"I thought ye knowed all about motors," jeered Pete.

"I know something about motors," replied Matt, "but not the first thing about air-ships."

As near as Matt could judge, they were proceeding at a speed of something like thirty miles an hour. He speeded up the engine a little and was surprised at the smoothness with which it worked. The propeller hummed in a low, husky drone that was quite different from the song of the cylinders.

He moved the steering lever backward a couple of notches. Immediately the rudder was tilted and the Hawk began to climb upward.

"Stop that!" yelled Brady. "We're high enough. What are you trying to do?"

"Learning the machine," answered Matt, and threw the lever forward.

The front end of the gas-bag tipped downward, and the air-ship slid toward the earth with a suddenness that almost threw Brady over the rail.

"That'll do you!" he whooped. "Get her on a level again, and be quick about it. You can handle the machine, all right, and I don't want you to do anything but what you're told."

"All right," said Matt quietly.

For five minutes longer they continued to swim onward through the air. A long string of lights shot across the gloomy landscape below them, and a whistle came upward from the earth with startling distinctness.

"There goes a train, whistlin' fer Lake Station," remarked Pete.

"We'll be over the town in a minute," said Brady, "and then it won't be long until we get to the swamp."

"What swamp?" asked Matt.

"Never ye mind," was Pete's surly rejoinder. "Ye're here to obey orders an' not ask any fool questions."

"I don't think it very foolish for a fellow to ask where he's being taken."

"Mebby not, but ye ain't findin' anythin' out, see?"

Matt had been doing a good deal of guessing about Carl. What would his chum do? What was he doing then? He felt pretty sure that Carl would get into the house and go through it from cellar to roof.

But Matt knew that Carl had a good sensible head in cases of emergency. Now and again the Dutch boy's temper was apt to make trouble with his reasoning, but in the long run Carl could always be counted on to do the right thing.

So Matt was not worrying very much about his chum. Carl would take good care of the blue prints and ultimately they would find their rightful owner.

"Ha!" exclaimed Brady, suddenly, "there's the signal! I'll go back and take charge of the motor while we make the landing, Pete, and you take the lookout."

Matt gave place to Brady and then stood at the rail, watching developments curiously.

Below the air-ship was a great splotch of black shadow, stretching away on all sides as far as the eye could reach. Evidently this was the swamp. The Hawk was sailing across the swamp toward a big fire that glowed in the distance.

With Brady steering and Pete directing, the Hawk approached closer and closer to the fire.

"Drop 'er, Brady!" Pete presently called; "we're close on the island."

The nose of the air-ship ducked downward and, for perhaps twenty seconds, she raced earthward; then Brady diminished the speed of their descent by slow degrees.

Matt, braced on the sloping floor of the car, watched the fire apparently come up toward them. A little later he was able to make out three human figures against the firelit background below, and a bare little plateau took vague form under his eyes.

He watched the landing keenly, and noted how Brady suddenly shifted the steering rudder so as to bring the Hawk on an even keel, the lower supports of the car just grazing the ground.

The three figures by the fire ran close.

"How's everything, Brady?" cried a voice.

"Finer than silk," called back Brady. "Stand by to catch the ropes, you fellows."

The murmur of the motor ceased, the revolving propeller came to a stop, and Pete flung out two ropes, one on each side of the car.

The ropes were caught by the men on the ground, a bight of each was thrown around a stout stake driven into the earth at an angle, and the air-ship was drawn down and safely moored.

Matt was now able to understand why Brady had taken his place as driver for the landing. Not only was the method of making a landing new to Matt, but there was also danger, unless one was familiar with the place, of scraping the trees that covered the swamp and hemmed in the cleared space called the "island."

Matt started to spring over the rail of the car.

"Stop, King!" cried Brady. "You don't want to make a bolt for the timber and get mired in the swamp, do you? Just remember you're still under orders. Take him to the roost, Needham, you and Whipple. Better tie him up until he gets used to the place and to our society. He's a bit strange, here, and none too willing to stay."

"Did you bring the loot, Brady?" called one of the men.

"Sure! This is moving-day with us and you didn't think I was going to leave all that stuff on Hoyne Street, did you? Get out of the car, King," he went on, to Matt. "Whipple and Needham will take care of you."

Two of the three men had stepped to the side of the car. In the light of the fire, which was blazing at a safe distance from the air-ship, Matt discovered that Needham and Grove had been the two aeronauts who had had such hard luck with the Hawk during the preceding day.

Needham, who, with Whipple, was facing Matt and waiting for him to get over the air-ship's rail, gave a husky laugh.

"We got out of that scrape, all right," said he, "even if we did lose our drag-rope."

"And you got me into another scrape," said Matt. "You fellows will pay for this!"

"Chirp low, young feller," warned Whipple, catching him by the arm as he gained the ground; "your cue is to make friends with us an' not bluster about what ye're goin' ter do. There's five husky men here, an' we're all surrounded by a swamp that would mire ye up ter the eyes if ye tried ter git through it. Oh, I reckon ye won't git away ter make any of us pay fer anythin'! This way, an' step lively."

With Needham and Whipple on each side of him and hanging to an arm, Matt was led across the open space, past the fire, and to the door of a small, roughly built shanty. A little way off there was another building, fully as small but apparently somewhat better built.

"This here's the roost," announced Whipple, "an' it's where ye're ter pass the rest o' the night. Come in, an' come peaceable."

It was part of Matt's plan, hastily formed on the air-ship just after the girl had spoken to him, to accept passively whatever came his way--at least for a time. The girl had said that she would help him escape, and there was that about her which had awakened his confidence. Not only that, but there was also something in the girl's face that had aroused his sympathy. She had a history, he was sure, and one that was far from pleasant.

There were five cots in the "roost," and Matt was told to lie down on one of them.

"Harper used to sleep there," remarked Needham, as Matt stretched himself out on the hard bed, "and the deuce only knows where poor old Harper is now. You're taking his place, King, and so it's only right you should have his cot."

It was on Matt's tongue to say that Needham had another guess coming, but he held his peace. He would not show too much of the hostile side of his feelings until he had had a chance to talk with the girl.

"What's the use of tying me," expostulated Matt, as ropes were being put in place around his wrists and ankles, "if it's impossible for me to get away?"

"Orders," answered Whipple, curtly.

After Matt was made secure, Whipple and Needham went out of the hut. The young motorist had had a trying day, and even his exciting situation was powerless to keep the sleep from his eyes. He dozed off, while his thoughts were trying to straighten out the queer tangle in which events had bound him. He roused up for a moment when Pete, Whipple, Needham and Grove came into the hut and dropped down on their cots, but almost immediately he went to sleep again.

It seemed as though he had hardly closed his eyes the second time before he was awakened by a light hand pressed upon his forehead. The other cots in the room were empty, it was morning, and the girl was standing beside him.

"I have brought your breakfast," said she, in a low voice. "We can talk a little, but will have to be quick. Dad, or some of the men, may come in here at any second! There's a lot that you've got to know, and----"

She was interrupted by the sharp explosion of a firearm outside. Stifling a cry, she whirled from the cot and ran to the open door.