Chapter XIII: Motor Car and Aeroplane

It was about nine o'clock in the evening when Matt was awakened by the arrival of McGlory and Twomley. Burton, curious and eager, came into the calliope tent with them.

"I'll tell you what my plan is," said Matt, sitting up on the edge of the cot, "and then you can all go to bed and get a good night's rest. Ben Ali is a crafty scoundrel, and it is necessary for us to capture him in order to find out what he has done with Miss Manners."

"That's the point," approved Twomley. "If we can't get hold of Ben Ali, the Secret Service men will have a bally time locating the girl."

"I'm inclined to think that Bill Wily told nothing but the truth," proceeded Matt.

"You never can tell about Wily," struck in Burton. "It's because he's so shifty and unreliable that they call him Wily Bill. I wouldn't bank too much on what he says."

"It's neck or nothing with him," suggested Twomley. "He has everything to lose by not telling the truth, and I believe the fellow appreciates that fact."

"You can gamble a blue stack he does!" declared McGlory. "Did you see the look Dhondaram gave him while he was handing us that long palaver? If the Hindoo ever gets foot-loose, I wouldn't stand in Wily's shoes for a bushel of pesos."

"To my mind," said Matt, "the fact that Dhondaram was in that house proves the truth of Wily's story. Well, true or false, my whole plan is built up on what the 'barker' told us. We're to assume that Ben Ali will be in that oak opening, five miles from Grand Rapids on the Elgin road."

"Who knows whether there's an opening there or not?" asked Burton.

When the showman once lost confidence in a man, he put no trust in anything the man might do or say.

"The opening is there," said Matt. "I went out in an automobile and saw it for myself."

"Ah! So that's what you passed up the afternoon flight for, eh?"

"Partly," answered Matt. "Now, let us suppose that Ben Ali is in that opening to-morrow, waiting for Dhondaram to arrive with money which Ben Ali thinks he has stolen. Quite likely the Hindoo will have some one with him--perhaps the old ticket man whom you discharged, Burton, and perhaps Aurung Zeeb. This ticket man has played the part of the agent representing the British ambassador in turning that trick in Lafayette----"

"Sufferin' traitors!" chanted McGlory. "I've a hunch, pard, your finger's on the right button."

"So," pursued Matt, "it is fair to assume that Ben Ali has some one to watch the Elgin road in the vicinity of the oak opening. If he is warned that any suspicious persons are approaching, the Hindoo will slide away snakelike and dodge pursuit."

Twomley nodded.

"You're a fair daisy, Motor Matt, in placing the situation squarely in front of us. By Jove, it looks like a hard nut to crack."

"Matt will crack it," averred McGlory. "Listen, now, to how he proposes to do it."

"How are you going about it?" inquired Burton impatiently. "I've had this on my mind ever since you and I left the house with the green shutters, and I can't tell how nervous you make me hanging fire about it. Seems like a mighty simple thing to go out in the woods, meet a fellow where he intends to be, and nab him."

"Not so deuced simple as you suppose, Mr. Burton," returned Twomley, "when you consider the character of the man, and his ability to make passes, look at you, and give you your ticket to the Land of Nod."

"We're going to work out this problem by motor car and aëroplane," said Matt.

"Aëroplane!" exclaimed McGlory. "That means you and me, pard."

"The motor car for you, Joe," smiled Matt. "You and Twomley, and Burton will go along the Elgin road in that."

"What's the good?" demurred Burton. "You all seem to think it a cinch that the car will be seen, and that Ben Ali will get out of the way."

"You'll lag behind, you and your car," continued Matt, "and you'll let me and the aëroplane move ahead. I'll keep over the road as well as I can, and you can see me. When I sight our quarry I'll descend; then you can put on all speed and come up."

"The aëroplane will be a dead give-away!" asserted Burton. "Ben Ali and his outposts will see that as quick, or quicker, than they will the automobile."

"Suppose Ben Ali sees only one man on the machine, and thinks that the man is Dhondaram?" asked Matt. "Would he run, then?"

There was a silence, a startled silence, while the words of the young motorist were being pondered by his listeners.

"How'll Ben Ali think Dhondaram is running the _Comet_, pard?" queried McGlory.

"Because the man on the aëroplane will not look very much like Motor Matt, and _will_ look a little like a Hindoo."

"You're going to make up for the part?"

"It won't be much of a make-up. A white robe over my ordinary clothes will do."

"But your face----"

"In the air and at a distance, my face won't tell against the deception. When the _Comet_ has landed in the opening, then it will be Ben Ali and me for it--with an automobile full of reinforcements rushing to the scene."

"It sounds good," said McGlory thoughtfully.

"Here's something," observed Twomley, who had a clear head and a quick brain. "Ben Ali can think for himself. Won't he think it queer that Dhondaram is navigating the flying machine? Dhondaram, I make no doubt, is highly gifted, but will Ben Ali credit him with skill enough to operate the aëroplane?"

"He may not," admitted Matt; "still, if Ben Ali sees the machine, and a man in it who looks like Dhondaram, even if Ben Ali doubts he'll hold his ground in order to make sure. Ben Ali won't run from one man. Besides, he's expecting Dhondaram. That's a weighty point."

"I believe it will work," said Twomley. "At any rate, it will hold Ben Ali in the opening until the automobile has a chance to come close. Then the scoundrel is ours, no matter what he tries to do. By Jove, I like the idea!"

"Another thing," spoke up McGlory. "If Ben Ali smells a rat and tries to make a run, Matt can keep over him and follow him."

"Hardly that, Joe," returned Matt. "The woods are pretty thick along the Elgin road, and you know how big the top of a tree looks when you're gazing down on it. Besides, if there's any wind, the _Comet_ is going to be a fair-sized handful to take care of."

"There you are," said Burton. "How do you know the opening is big enough for you to come down in? It won't do," and something akin to panic took hold of the showman, "to damage the aëroplane."

"Oh, go off somewhere, Burton, and wring out your wet blanket," growled McGlory. "You're tryin' to throw it over everything."

"We've got to get a look at this business from every angle," said Burton doggedly.

"Well, be easy about the oak opening," came from Matt. "It's large enough to alight in and to start from. If there's only a little wind, there'll be no danger."

The Englishman reached over and took Matt's hand.

"Allow me," said he, with a solemn handshake. "Win or lose, my bucko, you have my admiration."

Matt flushed.

"Why," said he, "this is all talk, as yet, Twomley."

"It's the sort of talk, my lad, that precedes notable achievements. Nine-tenths of all the great work that's done owes more to the head than to the hands. What about the automobile?"

"That will be here at eight o'clock in the morning."

"You even thought of that! I suppose I'll have to be catching a car for town."

Twomley got up and flung away the remains of a cigarette.

"You'd better stay here," suggested Matt. "There's an extra cot behind the calliope, and I'm sure Burton will give you your breakfast in the morning."

Twomley cast a glance around him. The odor from the animal tent, of which the calliope house was only a lean-to, was strong and disquieting. A lantern, tied to one of the tent poles, shed a murky light over the litter of buckets and ropes that strewed the tent floor. Matt had made ready for bed by kicking off his shoes and removing his coat and hat. It was all very primitive. In Washington Twomley looked as though he might have been of a fastidious nature. But, whatever he was at Washington, he was "game" at Reid's Lake.

"Go you," said he briefly. "Just where is that cot, my dear sir?"

McGlory dragged it out for him and opened it up.

"I'll pull it away from the wall of the animal top," said the cowboy. "Rajah, the bad elephant, is just on the other side of that piece of canvas, and he has the habit of snooping around in here with his trunk."

"I don't fancy Rajah will bother me," and Twomley shucked out of his low patent leathers.

"I could almost make a pard out of you," remarked McGlory.

"Nice work you've mapped out for Sunday," was Burton's sly fling as he paused at the door on his way out. "Motor Matt, who refused to make flights on Sunday for me for an extra hundred a week, lays out to pull off a go like this! Well, I'm surprised."

"Fate is no respecter of the calendar, Burton," Matt replied, with some show of feeling. "I'll work all day to-morrow if I can accomplish anything for Margaret Manners."

"Shake again," said the attaché.