Chapter XIV: On the Road

Carl and Dick had Jurgens close to the roadside, and not much time was lost loading the prisoner into the tonneau. Carl crawled into the rear seat with Jurgens and Dashington, and Dick got up in front with Matt.

"What was the shooting about?" asked Dick, smothering his excitement.

"Whistler and Bangs were taking pot shots at Dash," explained Matt. "Jurgens sprung our scheme on us before we were ready for it."

The car was rushing off down the road again, Matt looking back toward the turn for some sign of Whistler and Bangs. The machine had taken another turn before the baffled robbers had shown themselves.

"Py shinks!" boomed Carl, who had heard Matt's remark, "I t'ought I should drow fits righdt on der shpot ven don Jugens feller tuned oop. Ve ditn't know anyt'ing aboudt it, Matt, aber he hat chewed der handtkerchief in doo. Tick und me heardt der shooding, und ve vas schared shtiff. Ve t'ink, meppy, dot you or Tashington vas hurt."

"It was a close call for Dashington," said Matt. "If it hadn't been for his quickness and cleverness you two with Jurgens would have had Whistler and Bangs down on you like a thousand of brick. They were headed that way when Dash drew them off. But it's all over now. We're out of it, and we've got Jurgens' car, and Whistler and Bangs will have to hoof it. We'll send officers back from the next town."

"That will be Micheaud," put in Dashington.

"I vonder oof dere iss a blace to eat in der town?" quavered Carl. "I haf peen lifing on oxcidement all tay, und now ven der oxcidement iss gone I feel der need oof somet'ing else."

"Trust Carl to think of his chuck," laughed Dick. "What I want in the next town is a hat. After that I can get along until we reach where we're going."

Another handkerchief had been twisted between Jurgens' jaws in lieu of the one he had gnawed in two.

"There's no need of the gag now, pards," said Matt, "and you'll make Jurgens more comfortable by taking it off."

Jurgens' first words, the moment the gag was removed, were directed at Dashington.

"Confound you!" he hissed, "you're at the bottom of all this."

"Thanks," grinned Dashington, "that's partly the way of it."

"How did Motor Matt know where we had gone?"

"I put him next, Jurgens."

"How did you know?"

"Why, as for that, when you put me down and out, there in New Orleans, Bangs' coat dropped from the car. When I corralled my wits I found it. There was a notebook in the pocket and that gave me a line on your rendezvous."

"Bangs!" snapped Jurgens. "We ought never to have hooked up with him. He's a sot and a bungler."

"You're a bungler yourself, Jurgens. If you had treated me square, instead of trying to hog the whole bag of tricks, I might have kept right on with you and turned into a promising crook. On the whole, it's a fine thing for me you let Whistler give me that bump. I was at the turning point, and that rap on the block gave me a shove in the right direction."

"You'll do time for stealing those diamonds if my evidence counts for anything!" snapped Jurgens.

"But it won't. You're fooling yourself with a pipe dream when you let your little two-by-four run in that groove. Who was it shot at the air ship? Talk a while about something sensible."

"Bangs, again!" snorted Jurgens. "He was moseying along by the bayou and saw the air ship overhead. He blazed away, making a good shot. That was all right, but where Bangs was wrong was in hustling off to tell Whistler and me and not waiting to find out what damage he had done. As soon as I got Bangs' story, I made for the bayou. I saw the air ship, all right, smashed to smithereens in the top of a live oak, but King, Ferral and the Dutchman had vanished."

"Den you vent to hunt for us," bubbled Carl, "and got yourself in some drouples."

"You mean," laughed Dashington, with a taunt in his voice, "that he came to the hut to give us back the diamonds. It was a raw play, and that was what it amounted to."

Jurgens, in futile rage, ground his teeth.

"This will be the last of the diamonds," called Matt, from forward, "so far as you are concerned, Jurgens."

"I hope it will be the last of Townsend too," scowled Jurgens. "That fellow has dogged me from pillar to post ever since I left Atlantic City."

Matt and his chums enjoyed that remark.

"You dit all der dogging," said Carl.

"And you young whelps helped Townsend," snarled Jurgens. "Well, we've made it expensive for you. That air ship has made its last trip."

Dick Ferral sobered immediately. Recent exciting events had kept his mind off the untimely fate of the _Hawk_, but now the loss of the air ship recurred to him with added significance.

"I was in love with that craft," said he. "She saved our lives more than once, and she helped us turn a good many tricks for law and order. Not only that, but she has made for us five or six times the amount of money she cost us. Poor little ship! I suppose she'll hang in that oak tree till the crack o' doom."

"Forget about it, old chap," said Matt. "Her last cruise was the best of all, for she helped me redeem my promise to Archibald Townsend. There's the town ahead," he added, "and we'll stop there for supper and to send some one back along the road to capture Whistler and Bangs."

"They'll keep clear of any one you send," growled Jurgens, "I'll guarantee that."

"Whose automobile is this, Jurgens?" queried Dick.

"It belongs to a firm in New Orleans," he replied, with a leer. "We rented it and were going to forget to take it back."

"Why didn't you leave town when Townsend let you go, that other time?" Matt went on, hoping for an answer to a question that had long bothered him.

"Because we believed Townsend had got the loot that was in the iron chest," said Jurgens, "and we had as much right to it as he had."

"And you watched Townsend, after that?"

"Every minute, night and day."

Just here Matt swerved from the street of the town and came to a halt in front of a public house.

"We'll go in and eat, Motor Matt," said Dashington, with a significant look at the young motorist, "and Carl and Dick can stay here and keep watch over the machine and Jurgens. We can send them a hand-out."

Matt, seeing that there was some object back of Dashington's suggestion, acquiesced. They got down from the car and went into the tavern, took a seat in the dining room and sent out a hot meal to those in the car.

Matt and Dashington were alone in the dining room and, after the waiter had served them and gone away, they were able to talk privately.

"I had something up my sleeve, cull," said Dashington, "when I asked you to come in here with me. Here's where I have to quit you."

"Why can't you go on to New Orleans, Dash?" asked Matt. "I know Townsend. He's a good fellow, and he'll be so glad to get the diamonds back that I know he will not make you any trouble."

"You might be able to swing Townsend, all right," returned Dashington, "but the chap that has it in for me, old fel, is Jurgens. You've heard how he feels. He'd split on me, as sure as fate, and ring me in on the deal. No, I've got to duck, and right from this town. I've done what I could to square myself, and I'm going to put as much country between me and New Orleans as I can. It will be best, all around. You and I look too much alike to be in the same section of the country."

"You're going to stay straight, are you?" asked Matt, quietly.

"As long as I'm on the turf!" declared Dashington. "There's my hand on it."

Matt grasped cordially the hand Dashington offered him.

"Between two fellows who look so much alike as do you and I, Dash," said Matt, "there ought to be a bond of friendship. As long as you're straight, if you ever need help and I'm within hailing distance, let me know."

Dashington was silent for a space.

"That's mighty good of you," said he finally and in a low tone. "You've been a good friend to me, and the police probably won't thank you for letting me get away; but I appreciate what you've done. Don't let that get past your guard for a minute."

"Haven't you any relatives?"

"I don't want to talk along that line," said Dashington. "If I have, they'll never hear of me until I prove myself a credit to the family."

"Where are you going, from here?"

"I'll take a side-door Pullman out of the country. Haven't a guess where I'll land, but I know it will be a good way off."

"Have you any money?"

Dashington laughed.

"Money? What's that? I haven't a sou markee in my jeans, Matt, and it's that that made me desperate and ready to fall in with Jurgens and his bunch. The lack of a little money puts many a chap to the bad."

Matt drew a roll of bills from his pocket, counted off several and laid them down beside Dashington's plate.

"There's fifty," said he.

"What's it for?" asked Dashington.

"For you."

"I don't want to take your money, Matt. I hope I'm not an object of charity."

"Well, I should hope not. I'm not giving it to you, you understand. It's only a loan, and you can pay it back next week, next year, or any old time when you get around to it."

"Thank you," said Dashington.

When Matt got up from the table, he left Dashington still sitting in his chair. And that was the last he saw of him.