Chapter VIII: Jerrold's Gratitude

"The letter," explained Harris, "was written by Brady, and was evidently entrusted to the men in the Hawk for delivery to some one else. It's full of pointers, and a slicker bit of evidence it would be hard to find. And to think how it dropped into the hands of Motor Matt! The whole affair sounds like a 'pipe.'"

"Tell me about that!" cried Jerrold, his shock of joy having passed and left him leisure for other things. "Who is this Motor Matt, and how did he happen to get hold of the blue prints?"

"Ve vill go ofer dot lader, Misder Jerrold," said Carl, impatiently. "Schust now, dough, I vant to hear vat der ledder say. Readt him oudt, Harris! I vas so uneasy ofer it I don'd vas aple to sit shdill."

"It's addressed to a man called Whipple," went on Harris, "and here's the way it runs:

"'Grove, Needham and Harper, with one of my improved jimmies, are
going to make another try for those blue prints of Jerrold's. If they
get them--and I think they can, for our plans are well laid--they'll
carry the papers to Willoughby's swamp in the Hawk and leave them
with you. We will quit our operations in South Chicago, clean out the
balloon house (I have already sold the building for old lumber) and
make our future headquarters in the swamp. It will be safer there.
After we improve the Hawk according to Jerrold's plans, we will
have a ship in which we can go anywhere, and with which we can do
anything. All we need is a competent motorist--Harper's good enough
for an amateur, but we need a professional. I'll try and bring one
with me, when I come. Meanwhile, until I show up at the swamp, I want
you to take good care of the blue prints.

"'H. B.'"

A great light dawned on Carl during the reading of the letter--a light so strong that it left him blinking.

"Py chimineddy," he gurgled, "I know now vy dot Prady run off mit Matt! He say in der ledder dot he vants some brofessional to run dot air-ship. Vell, Matt knows more as anypody aboudt modors, und so Prady dook him off. Vat a high-hantet pitzness! Und Prady has captured a hornet oof he dit pud know it! He vill t'ink he has a handtful ven he dries to make Matt vork for him."

"From this," proceeded Harris, waving the letter, "it seems that Brady had already laid his plans to quit South Chicago. In the letter, over his own signature, he admits sending three of his men to steal the blue prints. By a chance, and owing to the course of events in keeping the driver of the air-ship from getting away with the other two thieves, this roll and the letter dropped into the hands of Motor Matt. Undoubtedly, Motor Matt has been taken to Willoughby's swamp."

"Und vere iss dot?" asked Carl.

"I know about the swamp," went on Harris, "for I helped some Chicago officers run down a couple of escaped prisoners there, once. It's a bad hole, but there is a sort of island in the middle of it that has been the resort of criminals for a good many years. To get through the water, and mud, and tangled bushes to the island is a hard job for any one who has to go on foot. Still, it can be done. Brady and his men, of course, can use the Hawk, and all they have to do is to sail through the air and drop down where they want to go. The difficulties of the swamp won't bother them at all. The place is about four miles from Lake Station, Indiana."

"Vell," said Carl, eagerly, "led's go dere. Der kevicker vat ve go, der kevicker vat ve can helup Matt. He iss my bard, und he needs me now."

The Dutch boy got up and started for the door. Bounding from his chair, Jerrold overtook him and grabbed his arm.

"Wait!" he commanded, "I've only got a faint grasp of the situation, but from what I can figure out you're going to need me. First, though, I want to hear all about this Motor Matt. He has done a whole lot for Hamilton Jerrold, and Jerrold is a man who always tries to pay his debts. Tell me how the blue prints got into the hands of Motor Matt."

"Aber ve vas in a hurry!" cried Carl. "Villoughpy's svamp iss a goot vays off, und----"

"You'll save time in the end by losing a little here and now," averred Jerrold, drawing Carl to a chair and pushing him down into it. "Go on! Give me the whole of it, between you, and be quick."

There was a compelling note in the inventor's words and manner, that demanded attention. Carl yielded and struck into an explanation of the events of the preceding afternoon. Whenever his impatience led him to skip any of the details, Harris, who recognized the advantage of letting Jerrold know everything, picked up the ignored detail and made Carl go over it.

Jerrold's interest and excitement increased as he listened. When Carl described how he and Matt had fought with Brady and Pete at the balloon house and kept them from getting the blue prints, Jerrold clapped his hands and shouted "Bravo!" And when Carl told of the bogus telegram that had brought the boys to South Chicago, Jerrold's face clouded with indignation and anger.

"Motor Matt," declared Jerrold, when Carl had finally finished, "has done a lot for me, and he's going to find that Hamilton Jerrold knows how to be grateful. I agree with Harris that there is hardly a doubt but that Brady has taken young King to Willoughby's swamp. Brady wants the young motorist for the Hawk, and intends to have him, whether or no. According to Harris, the swamp's a difficult place to get at for those not equipped with an air-ship. That's where I come in. This way, friends!"

With that, the inventor caught up his candle and led the way through the house and out at a back door.

By then it was nearly three o'clock, and the very darkest part of the night. A gust of wind blew out the candle, which had been about as effective as a glow-worm, and the three were left at the foot of the rear steps staring at a fluttering expanse of canvas.

The canvas formed a sort of V-shaped tent, long and high and secured with many guy-ropes. Because of the darkness it was difficult to get any kind of an idea as to the size of the tent, but that was a minor point.

"I'll have to get a lantern," said Jerrold. "Wait a minute."

"I've got a dark lantern, Jerrold," interposed Harris, "and I guess that will do."

"Fine!" exclaimed Jerrold, as Harris switched on the current and swung the beam of light around him. "This way," the inventor added, and ducked through the end of the tent.

In the gloomy interior a weird sight was disclosed--something so new and novel as to send an uncanny sensation along the nerves of Carl and Harris.

Here was another cigar-shaped gas-bag, and another suspended car. The car itself was stationary, but the bag, because of the drafts that surged through the tent, was bobbing and swaying like some monster, anxious to be unleashed.

The flickering gleam from the dark lantern could only disclose a part of the air-ship at a time.

"Ach," muttered Carl, "dot makes my nerfs shake und shake like anyt'ing. Sooch a horrible t'ing vat it iss!"

"That's because you're not familiar with such a craft," said Jerrold. "Payne and I have worked over it for years, and only yesterday saw the completion of our labors. It was six o'clock last night before the bag was fully inflated. We had to use common illuminating-gas, too, and the not more buoyant hydrogen. I have called the air-ship the 'Eagle,' and if you sweep that light along the side of the bag you will see the name."

This was a bit of byplay that took time and was utterly needless, but a great pride throbbed in the inventor's words, and even the smallest detail of the air-ship was fraught with the utmost importance to him.

"Everything about the craft," Jerrold went on, "is of the very best. The motor is the lightest, strongest and most powerful ever constructed. The car will carry half a dozen, easily. Sand-bags are suspended from each end of the gas-bag. When I pull in the sand-bag at the front end, the equilibrium is displaced, the bag points upward, and the propeller forces the air-ship to rise. So, when I wish to descend, I pull in the sand-bag at the rear point of the bag. When both bags are hanging loose, the Eagle swims in the air on an even keel. Now, the steering rudder, which also helps in maneuvering the ship, is a little idea of my own and----"

"Ach, hang der shdeering rutter!" broke in Carl, impatiently. "Harris und I haf got to go afder Matt und ve can't vait aroundt here any longer. Ve haf got to go py dot svamp, und----"

"Exactly!" broke in the inventor. "The Eagle, fully inflated and with a tank full of gasoline, is waiting for a trial spin in the morning. I have the honor to propose that we use the craft now, proceed to Willoughby's swamp and rescue Motor Matt. That will save time, and a whole lot of hardships in forcing your way through mud and water and tangled brush in order to reach the island."

Harris had already gathered the inventor's idea, even before he began putting it into words; Carl, however, had not anticipated the suggestion, and he was dazed by it.

"You mean to dake us py der svamp in der Eagle?" he asked, in some trepidation.

"Yes."

"Ach, himmel! I nefer rode mit a air-ship. Vill I be seasick py it?"

"I don't think so. You see, I have never navigated an air-ship myself, but I'll bank on the Eagle doing its work. I can run the engine."

"Vat oof it shouldt durn oopside town mit us vile ve vas a mile in der air?"

"I'll guarantee it won't do that."

"Vell, vedder or nod," said Carl, "I am going afder my bard. Oof der tangers vas greadt, I take dem; und oof dey vasn't so greadt, den I take dem, too. Matt vouldt do more as dot for me, yah, I bed you!"

Harris was also afflicted with doubts.

"The ground has always been good enough for me, Jerrold," said he, "and whenever I get my feet off it and go up any distance I have a bad case of vertigo. If I should get dizzy and fall off the car----"

"You won't," interrupted the inventor; "people never get dizzy in balloons."

"You're sure it won't tip over and spill us out?"

"Positive."

"You don't know much about it yourself, you know, having never been up in it."

"That scoundrel, Brady, has used the Hawk with fair success, and the Hawk is modeled on the same lines as the Eagle, only the Eagle has improvements which Brady was not able to get hold of and put on his own machine. Shall we go to the rescue of Motor Matt? Come, my friends, time is flying."

"Und ve ought to be flying, too," said Carl, now eager to make the ascension.

"I'll take a chance," observed Harris.

"Good!" applauded Jerrold.

The next moment he had vanished in the darkness and could be heard pulling at some ropes. In less than a minute the entire top of the tent fell away, revealing the stars.

"Get into the car," said Jerrold, "there, just forward of the driver's seat."

With the aid of his lantern Harris picked out the place where he and Carl were to stow themselves, and they climbed into the car as directed.

Immediately after that, Jerrold got over the rail and took his seat at the levers. It was impossible to see just what he was doing, but the clank of a lever came from his vicinity and slowly the front of the gas-bag began to point upward.

"Now we're ready," called the inventor.

The popping of a motor began and gradually gathered into a swift murmur.

"And now we're off," added Jerrold. "Stay right where you are and don't change your positions unless I tell you."

The whir of the propeller started, and the house and shrubbery began slipping away from under those in the car.

"Ach, du lieber!" gasped Carl. "Der eart' vas falling avay from us. I vill say my brayers forvarts, packvarts und sidevays, oof it vill helup any."

"I've got a bad case of rattles, myself," admitted Harris. "But it's for your pard, my boy."

"You bed my life!" returned Carl, "aber I never dit anyt'ing pefore for dot bard oof mine dot dook so mooch nerf as vat dis toes. I vill shud my eyes, und you dell me, blease, ven ve reach der svamp!"