Chapter III: Shock Number One

When Motor Matt and Joe McGlory dropped off that "local" passenger train at the Catskill station they had just finished a series of strenuous experiences. These had to do with the great ruby known as the Eye of Buddha. A cunning _facsimile_ of the gem had been sent by Tsan Ti to Matt, by express, with a letter desiring him to take care of the ruby until the mandarin should call for it. This responsibility, entirely unsought by the king of the motor boys, plunged him and his cowboy pard into a whirl of adventures, and ended in their being decoyed aboard the _Iris_. Here the ruby was taken from Matt by force--Grattan, who secured it, not learning until some time later that the object Matt had been caring for was merely a base counterfeit of the original gem. And Matt and McGlory did not find this out until they caught the train at Fairview, when they discovered that Tsan Ti and Sam Wing were aboard.

The twenty-mile ride from Fairview to Catskill with the mandarin proved quite an eye opener for the motor boys. They learned how Tsan Ti had deliberately set Grattan on their track to recover the bogus ruby, while he--Tsan Ti--made his escape with the real gem.

This part of the mandarin's talk failed to make much of a "hit" with Matt and McGlory. The mandarin had used them for his purposes in a particularly high-handed manner, keeping them entirely in the dark regarding the fact that the stone intrusted to Matt was a counterfeit.

Although the boys parted in a friendly way with the mandarin on leaving the train at Catskill, yet they nevertheless remembered their grievance and were heartily glad to think that they were done for all time with Tsan Ti and his ruby.

Very often it happens that when we think we are done with a thing we have reckoned without taking account of a perverse fate. This was the case with the motor boys with reference to Tsan Ti and the Eye of Buddha.

While they were climbing the slope from the railroad station to their hotel, glad of the prospect of securing a little much-needed rest, only a few chance remarks by McGlory prevented them from having an encounter with Grattan, Pardo, and Bunce, who were lurking beside the walk. And at that same moment the faithless Sam Wing was engineering his stealthy theft in the darkened passenger coach.

So stirring events were forming, all unheeded by the boys.

Upon reaching the hotel they proceeded immediately to the room which they occupied, hastily disrobed, and crept into their respective beds. In less than five minutes the room was resounding with McGlory's snores. Matt remained awake long enough to review the events of the day and to congratulate himself that he and his cowboy pard were finally rid of the "hoodoo" gem and the "hoodoo" Chinaman who had been looking for it. Then the king of the motor boys himself fell asleep.

It was McGlory's voice that aroused Matt.

"Sufferin' thunderbolts!" Matt awoke with a start and turned his eyes toward the other side of the room. The cowboy was sitting up in bed. "Talk about your shocking times, pard," he went on, "why, I've been jumping from one shock into another ever since I hit this mattress. Thought I was chased by a blind idol, twenty feet high, and sometimes that idol looked like Grattan, sometimes it was a dead ringer for Tsan Ti, and sometimes it was its own wabble-jawed, horrible self. Woosh! And listen"--McGlory's eyes grew wide and he became very serious--"the idol that chased me had _red hair_!"

"What difference does that make, Joe?" inquired Matt, observing that the sun was high and forthwith tumbling out of bed.

"What difference does it make!" gasped McGlory. "Speak to me about that! Don't you know Matt, that whenever you dream about a person with red hair, trouble's on the pike and you've got up your little red flag?"

"Oh, gammon!" grunted Matt. "Pile out and get into your clothes, Joe. We're taking the eleven a. m. boat for the big town, and we haven't any too much time to make our 'twilight,' help ourselves to a late breakfast, and amble down to the landing."

"Hooray!" cried McGlory, forgetting his dream in the prospect called up by his chum's words. "We're going to have the time of our lives in New York, pard! All I hope is that nothing gets between us and that eleven a. m. boat. Seems like we never make a start for down the river but Johnny Hardluck comes along, jolts us with an uppercut, and faces us the wrong way. Look here, once."

"Well?"

"If you get a letter from Tsan Ti, promise me to say 'manana' and give it the cut direct."

"What chance is there of our receiving a letter from the mandarin? He's on his way West with the Eye of Buddha, and Grattan is on his way no one knows where with a glass imitation. Both of them are satisfied, and I guess you and I, Joe, haven't any cause for complaint. The mandarin is too busy traveling to write any letters."

"Well," insisted McGlory, "give me your solemn promise you won't pay any attention to a letter from the mandarin if you receive one. If you're so plumb certain he won't write, why not promise?"

"It's a go," laughed Matt, "if that will make you feel any easier in your mind."

"It does, a heap. I'd rather have measles than another attack of mandarinicutis, complicated with rubyitis, and----"

"Oh, splash!" interrupted Matt. "We've been well paid for all the time we were ailing with those two troubles. Give your hair a lick and a promise, and let's go down to breakfast. They'll be ringing the last bell on us if we wait much longer."

"Lead on, Macduff!" answered McGlory, throwing himself around in the air and then striking a pose, with one arm up, like Ajax defying the lightning. "Remember Monte Cristo like that, pard?" he asked. "'The world is mine!' That's how I feel. Us for New York, with fifteen hundred of the mandarin's _dinero_ in our clothes! Oh, say, I'm a brass band and I've just got to toot!"

The cowboy "tooted" all the way downstairs and into the office; then, as they passed the desk on their way to the dining room, the rejoicing died on the cowboy's lips.

"Just a minute, Motor Matt!" called the clerk, leaning over the desk and motioning.

"Lightning's going to strike," muttered McGlory; "I can see it coming."

He followed Matt to the desk. As they lined up there, the clerk fished a small box out of the office safe.

"This was left here for you last night, Matt," went on the clerk. "I was told to hand it to you this morning by the night clerk when he went off duty."

The little box was placed on the counter. Matt and McGlory stared at it.

That was not the first time they had seen that small receptacle. With the counterfeit ruby inside, it had first come into Matt's hands by express, direct from Tsan Ti; then, by a somewhat devious course of events, it had gone into the possession of Philo Grattan.

Why should Grattan have returned the box to Matt? How _could_ he have returned it when, as Matt and McGlory believed, he was at that very moment hurrying to get out of the country and escape the law?

"Shock number one," shuddered McGlory.

"Not much of a shock about this--so far," returned Matt, picking up the box.

"Wait till you see what's inside."

"We'll open it in the dining room," and Matt turned away.

"I'll bet a bowl of birds'-nest soup against a plate of sharks' fins it's going to spoil your breakfast."

They went in and took their usual places at one of the tables. All the other guests had breakfasted, and the motor boys had the big dining room--with the exception of two or three waiters--wholly to themselves.

"Open it quick," urged McGlory.

Matt sawed through the string with his knife, pulled out the lid of the box, and dropped a gleaming red object on the tablecloth.

"Sufferin' snakes!" exclaimed McGlory. "The Eye of Buddha, or I'm a Piute! How in blazes did old Tsan Ti get the thing back to us? When I saw that last it was in a silk bag around the mandarin's neck."

"It can't be the Eye of Buddha, Joe," said Matt. "It looks to me more like the bogus gem than the real one."

"How can you tell the difference?"

"From the fact that the real stone could not by any possibility get into our hands again."

"Neither could the bogus gem--if it's where we think it is."

"I guess here's something that will explain," and Matt drew a piece of paper from the box.

"Who's it from?" queried McGlory, in a flutter.

"From Grattan," answered Matt grimly. "Listen," and he read:

"'MOTOR MATT: You don't know what a tight squeak you and McGlory
had to-night--not aboard the _Iris_, but after you were put ashore.
Pray accept the inclosed piece of glass with my compliments. I don't
think you knew, any more than I did, that it was counterfeit. If Tsan
Ti gets into any more difficulties, you take my advice and let him
weather them alone. GRATTAN.'"

"Shocked?" muttered McGlory. "Why, I feel as though somebody had hit me with a live wire. So Grattan found out the ruby was an imitation! And he found out in time to send that back to you last night! Say, that fellow's the king bee of all the crooks that ever lived. Present the jewel to one of these darky waiters, and let's you and I get busy with the ham and eggs. I'm glad we're for New York by the eleven-o'clock boat, and that the mandarin isn't worrying us any more."

The cowboy threw the box under the table, and would have reached for the gleaming bit of glass had not Matt grabbed it first and dropped it into his pocket.