Chapter VIII: The Trouble at the Air Ship

When Carl and Ferral went on guard duty, Brady, still bound, was left in the car of the Hawk. From the deep gloom of the billboard, Carl watched both ways--kept his eye on the street for possible signs of Pete and Whipple, and looked occasionally toward the car to make sure that Brady was keeping quiet.

Carl always claimed to have "hunches" when anything was going wrong. He had a good many "hunches" when nothing ever went wrong, but rarely had anything to say when his dismal forebodings failed to make good. However, when his "hunch" struck him shortly before a bit of hard luck, he was sure to brag about it.

One of the shivery feelings which Carl supposed to be a "hunch" had been on him ever since they had started from the balloon house. Instead of finding Dave Glennie, the city detective, by the old quarry, the chums had run into Hector Brady; and, right after that, they had had an encounter with Pete and Whipple, and had got away by a narrow margin.

This amount of trouble ought to have been sufficient for any ordinary "hunch," but it did not satisfy Carl's. The shivery feeling still held him in its grip, and he was looking for something else to strike Matt, and Ferral, and himself.

Ferral, finding everything quiet in the alley, strolled around by the end of the billboard. Carl was so busy looking for trouble that he did not see his chum coming. When he heard his step, close behind him, Carl jumped about ten feet.

"Ach, vat a cholt!" he murmured, recognizing the low laugh that greeted him when he turned around. "You hatn't ought to do dot, Verral," he went on reproachfully. "You come pooty near shcarin' me oudt oof a year's growt'."

"What ails you, old ship?" queried Ferral. "I never saw you in such a taking before. There must be something wrong with your top hamper."

"I don't know abudt dot," said Carl, "aber I bed my life somet'ing pooty bad iss going to habben mit us. I got der feeling in my pones--leetle didicums valkin' all droo me--lettle spookishness feelings like vat I can't tell hop, shkip und chumping oop my shpine. Yah, himmelblitzen, dot's der t'ing vat I feels, und it makes me vant to yell righdt oudt. You efer haf dot, Verral?"

"From your description," chuckled Ferral, "I don't think anything of that kind ever crossed my hawse. It must be an awful feeling, Carl."

"Ach, vorse as dot! I vas a rekular drouple parometer. Schust vatch me und you can alvays tell schust ven hardt luck is going to shdrike Modor Matt und his bards. Now, ve vill ged some more do-nighdt, I tell you dose."

"What sort of trouble will it be?"

"I don'd know dot, aber I bed you Matt is mixed oop in it. I ditn't pelieve dot he ought to haf svallowed all dot talk Prady gif him. Anyvay, you see how Matt dook it down, und here ve are, und dere iss Matt ofer der alley--und der teufel knows vat vill habben pecause oof it, I don'd."

"That old raggie of ours, Carl, generally knows what he's about. It ain't often that he gets fooled."

"Don'd I know dot? He iss der greadest feller dot efer vas, aber der pest oof dem vill make a misblay vonce und oggasionally. Matt ought to haf let me go along mit him. He has peen gone a goot vile now, und he may be in drouble alretty for all dot ve know."

"Matt can keep out of trouble easier than any fellow you ever saw," answered Ferral.

"Sure! Aber I vish dot you vould go ofer py der alley und lisden pehindt der house. See oof you can hear anyt'ing vat lisdens like drouple."

"I'll go you, Carl," said Ferral, "not because I don't think Matt's not able to take care of himself, but just to ease up a bit on your nerves. I never saw a fellow that liked to fight better than you do, and it's main queer you'll let a foreboding of trouble get you on the mat like that."

"Der forepoding iss der whole drouple; oof der fighdt vould come on mitoudt dot, I vouldt be habby. Yah, so. It's der uncerdainty oof vat iss coming vat hurts."

With an amused laugh, Ferral strolled off toward the alley. Carl watched him vanish into the deeper shadows cast by the sheds and other buildings, and then allowed his eyes to swerve toward the car of the air ship.

The Dutch boy had cast an apprehensive look toward the car a score of times without seeing anything. This time, however, he saw something, and that was the figure of a man jumping over the rail. With a wild yell he rushed toward the car. The man, running like a deer, came directly toward him, and Carl planted himself firmly and made ready to use his fists.

As the running form came closer, Carl made it out to be Brady.

The escaping prisoner lurched to one side in order to give Carl a wide berth.

"No, you don'd!" cried Carl, and threw himself in front of Brady. The latter, by a dexterous move, put out a foot and tripped the Dutch boy, sending him heels over head. While Carl was getting up, he saw Brady disappearing around one end of the billboard.

"What's run afoul of you, mate?" demanded Ferral, hurrying to the scene.

"Prady!" answered Carl excitedly. "He has proken loose mit himseluf und run avay!"

Carl at once started on the trail, darting around the end of the billboard and plunging into the street. Once in the thoroughfare, he was puzzled to know which way Brady had gone. The fellow was out of sight and hearing, and all Carl could do was to make a guess and plunge away.

He guessed wrong, and after he had run two blocks he made up his mind that he would go the other way and raced back. In front of the billboard he was stopped by Matt, Ferral and some one else. It was too dark for Carl to see who the third man was.

"Hold up, Carl!" called Matt, grabbing him, "there's no use whaling around like that."

"Prady has got avay!" cried Carl.

"So Dick was telling us. It's hard luck, and I can't understand it."

"Did you have Brady?" demanded the third member of the party.

"Vell, oof it ain'd Harris!" murmured Carl. "Vere dit you come from?"

Harris had no time, just then, for useless talk.

"Yes," said Matt, "we had Brady. He was a prisoner in the air ship, and he loosened his ropes and made a break for his freedom. I'm all at sea and can't make head or tail of it."

"If he's in this town," proceeded Harris, "he can be captured, but we'll have to call on the police authorities here. However, now that Brady's got away, that can wait a few minutes. Tell me all about how you found him."

Matt went over the event of Brady's capture at some length, telling briefly what Brady had told him and how he and his chums had come to bring the Hawk to the vacant lot near Hooligan's.

It was the first chance since Matt had found Harris in the house that the two had had to talk. Harris, as might be supposed, was amazed.

"A queer move for Brady to make," muttered the officer. "A big change must have come over him since he went to the 'pen.' The last thing he said to me, when he started for Joliet, was that he'd get even with Motor Matt if it was the last thing he ever did. Either he's playing some deep game, or else he's experienced a remarkable change of heart."

"It's a deep game he's playing, I guess," said Matt ruefully. "If not, why did he try to get away?"

"Well, he gave you a lot of information, and gave it to you pretty straight. That don't tally very well with his desire to make you trouble. There's something about all this I can't understand."

"Brady was quite a little worked up over that automobile we heard, in front of Hooligan's, mate," put in Ferral, with a sudden thought.

"That was the automobile that brought Graydon and me from South Chicago," explained Harris. "Pete and Whipple ran off with it. They used the machine to bring me to Hooligan's, and then loaded the old woman and the girl into it, got in themselves, and tore away."

"Do you know where they went?" asked Matt.

"No. Whipple told me, just before he left the house, that I could stay where I was and starve to death, for all he cared. And I guess that might have happened if it hadn't been for you, Matt. All this tallies with what Brady told you, and makes the whole affair look as though he was playing on the square."

"But he bolted!" exclaimed Matt. "That goes to show that he had something up his sleeve that we don't know anything about."

The puzzled officer rubbed his bruised head thoughtfully.

"Well, you've got me," he observed finally. "I can't explain it. It will be a good scheme for you boys to get away from here as soon as you can. If Pete and Whipple should show up and lay hands on the Hawk----"

"How can they do that if they went off in the automobile?"

"That's right, too. I'm reasoning like a crazy man, which shows how badly rattled this thing has made me. Suppose you go back to those two trees near the quarry and wait there for me? They say that lightning never strikes twice in the same place, so probably the Hawk will be safer there than anywhere else. While you're there you might keep an eye out for Graydon. I'm going to call on the police authorities here and get men out hunting for Brady. No matter what his game is, he has got to be located. And that automobile has got to be recovered. Graydon and I borrowed it, and I'd hate to have to put up three thousand for it in case it's wrecked or got away with for good. You might go along with me, Carl. I may have use for you."

At such a time the Dutch boy would rather have stayed with Matt and Ferral. However, a word from Matt decided him, and he and the officer hurried off together.

The other two boys, very much disheartened over the way events had fallen out at Hooligan's, unmoored the Hawk and started back toward the quarry. Well beyond the edge of town, Ferral, who was on the lookout in the forward part of the car, saw something to which he called Matt's attention.

The object was a light, almost directly underneath them, waving back and forth as though to attract their attention.

"Hello, down there!" called Matt. "Who are you?"

"Graydon," came the answer. "Is that you, King?"

"Yes."

"Well, come down and take me aboard. I've had a deuce of a time. There's a whole lot been going on that's got me queered."

"He's not the only one that's queered," muttered Ferral as Matt turned the nose of the Hawk earthward.

"Watch sharp, Dick," said Matt. "If there's more than one man there, tell me before it's too late for us to get away. I'm looking for trouble everywhere to-night."