Chapter VII: Between the Wagons

Excitement, and a certain reaction which follows all such shocks as the ticket man had been subjected to, had brought on a fainting spell. A little water soon revived Carter, and he was laid on the blanket from which Matt had gotten up a little while before.

"Now tell me about the robbery," said Burton, "and be quick. While we're wasting time here, the thieves are getting away. I can't afford to let 'em beat me out of the proceeds of the afternoon's show. Who did it, Carter?"

"I don't know, Burton," was the answer.

"Don't know?" repeated the showman blankly. "Can't tell who knocked you down and lifted the two bags, when it was done in broad day! What are you givin' us?" he added roughly.

"It's a fact, Burton," persisted Carter. "I was hit from behind and could not see the man who struck me."

"You've got a cut on your face. How do you account for that if, as you say, you were struck from behind?"

"The blow I received threw me forward against a wagon wheel. The tire cut my cheek. I dropped flat, and didn't know a thing. When I came to myself, of course, the money was gone."

"Here's a pretty kettle of fish, and no mistake!" fumed Burton. "How much money did you have, Andy?"

"A little over eighteen hundred dollars."

"Eighteen hundred gone to pot! By Jupiter, I won't stand for that. Can't you think of _some_ clue, Andy? Pull your wits together. It isn't possible that a hold-up like that could take place in broad day without leaving some clue behind. Think, man!"

"Maybe that new Dutch boy could give you a clue," replied Carter. "He's a friend of Motor Matt's, isn't he?"

"He's a pard of Matt's," said Burton, casting a significant look at the king of the motor boys. "What makes you think he might give us a clue? Don't hang fire, Andy! Every minute we delay here is only that much time lost. Go on--and speak quick."

"I had just left the ticket wagon," pursued Carter, trying to talk hurriedly, "when the Dutchman stepped up to me. He wanted a word in private, as he said, and I told him he'd have to wait until some other time. He said he couldn't wait, and that what he had to tell me was important. I couldn't get away from him, and I agreed to listen to what he had to say providing he didn't delay me more than two or three minutes. With that, he led me around back of the "circus top" and in between two canvas wagons. That's when I got struck from behind."

Motor Matt listened to this in blank amazement. Boss Burton swore under his breath.

"It's a cinch the Dutchman had a hand in the robbery," the showman declared. "He lured Andy in between the wagons, and it was there that some of the Dutchman's confederates knocked Andy down and lifted the bags. If we can lay hands on this Carl, we'll have one of the thieves."

"Don't be too sure of that," interposed Matt. "Carl Pretzel never did a dishonest thing in his life, and I'm sure he can explain this."

"Don't let your regard for the Dutchman blind you to what's happened, Matt," warned the showman. "The only thing he asked Andy to go in between the wagons for was so that the dastardly work would be screened from the eyes of people around the grounds." He turned away, adding: "We'll have to hunt for Carl--and it will be a hunt, I'll be bound. Unless I miss my guess, he and his confederates are a good ways from here with that eighteen hundred dollars."

Burton ran toward the tent door, followed by Matt. Before either of them could pass out, Carl and McGlory stepped through and stood facing them.

Carl had a red cotton handkerchief tied round the back of his head.

"Here he is, by thunder!" cried the surprised Burton.

"So, you see," spoke up Matt, "he didn't run away, after all."

"It's some kind of a bluff he's working," went on Burton doggedly. "I want you," he added, and dropped a heavy hand on Carl's shoulder.

"For vy iss dot?" inquired Carl.

"What do you want the boy for?" said McGlory.

"He helped steal eighteen hundred dollars the ticket man was bringing over here for me to take to the bank," said Burton; "that's what I want him for."

"Iss he grazy?" gasped Carl, falling weakly against McGlory. "Vat dit I do mit der money oof I took it, hey? Und ven dit I take it, und vere it vas? By shinks," and Carl rubbed a hand over his bandaged head, "I'm doing t'ings vat I don'd know nodding aboudt. Somepody blease tell me vat I peen oop to."

"Don't you get gay," growled Burton. "It won't help your case any."

"Give me the straight o' this," demanded McGlory.

Burton stepped back and waved a hand in the direction of Andy Carter.

"Look at Andy!" he exclaimed. "He's been beaten up and robbed of two bags of money that he was bringing here. The Dutchman lured him in between a couple of canvas wagons, and that's where the job was pulled off."

"Speak to me about this!" murmured the dazed McGlory. "What about it, Matt?" he added.

Matt did not answer, but stepped over to Carl.

"Why did you ask Carter to step in between the wagons, Carl?" the young motorist asked.

"Pecause I vanted to shpeak mit him alone by himseluf," answered Carl. "Vat's der odds aboudt der tifference, anyvay?"

"What did you want to speak with him about?"

"Vell, I don'd like blaying der pancho for dot Zulu feller. I dit id vonce, und den fired meinseluf. Vat I vant iss somet'ing light und conshenial--hantling money vould aboudt suit me, I bed you. Dot's vat I vanted to see der ticket feller aboudt. I vanted to ask him vould he blease gif me some chob in der ticket wagon, und I took him off vere ve could haf some gonversations alone. Dot's all aboudt it, und oof I shtole some money, vere it iss, und vy don'd I got it? Tell me dot!"

"That's a raw bluff you're putting up," scowled Burton. "You're nobody's fool, even if you do try to make people think so."

"I ain't your fool, neider," cried Carl, warming up. "You can't make some monkey-doodle pitzness oudt oof me. You may own der show und be a pig feller, aber I got some money meinseluf oof it efer geds here from Inchia, so for vy should I vant to svipe your money, hey?"

"What happened between the wagons, Carl?" went on Matt. "Just keep your ideas to yourself, Burton," he added, "and don't accuse Carl until he has a chance to give his side of the story. Did you see the man who knocked Carter down?"

"I don'd see nodding," said Carl.

"Do you mean to say," asked Carter, rising up on the blanket, "that I wasn't knocked down?"

"I don'd know vedder or nod you vas knocked down. How could I tell dot?"

"You were there with Carter--there between the wagons," cried Burton angrily. "Why shouldn't you have seen what happened?"

"Look here vonce."

Carl pulled off his cap and bent his head.

"Feel dere," he went on, touching the back of his head. "Be careful mit your feelings, oof you blease, und tell me vat you findt."

"A lump," said Matt.

"Ouch!" whimpered Carl. "It vas so sore as I can't tell. My headt feels like a parrel, und hurts all ofer. Dot's der reason I ditn't see vat habbened. I vas knocked down meinseluf, und it must haf peen aboudt der same time der dicket feller keeled ofer."

"There you have it, Burton," said Matt, facing the showman. "Carl wanted a job in the ticket wagon, and thought he might get it by talking with Andy Carter. When they got in between the wagons they were both knocked down."

"Rot!" ground out Burton. "Why didn't Carter see the Dutchman when he came to? Or why didn't the Dutchman see Carter, if he got back his wits first?"

"Carl was looking for Carter when I met up with him," put in McGlory.

"The Dutchman wasn't near the wagons when I recovered my senses," came from the ticket man.

"Und I don'd know vedder you vas dere or nod, Carter," explained Carl. "Ven I got to know vere I vas at, I foundt meinseluf vanderin' around mit a sore headt. But I tell you somet'ing, Burton. I peen a tedectif, und a fine vone. How mooch you gif me oof I findt der t'ieves und recofer der money? Huh?"

"I believe you know where that money is, all right," declared the showman, "and if you think I'm going to pay you something for giving it back, you're wrong. If you want to save yourself trouble, you'll hand over the funds."

"You talk like you vas pug-house!" said Carl. "I ain't got der money."

"Who helped you steal it?"

"Nopody! I ditn't know it vos shtole ondil you shpeak aboudt it."

"Stop that line of talk, Burton," put in Matt. "Carl's story is straight, and it satisfies me."

"How much money did the Dutchman have when he came here this morning?" asked Burton.

"T'irty cents," replied Carl. "Modor Matt paid my railroadt fare from Lafayette to Chackson."

"Search him, McGlory," ordered Burton. "Let's see if he has anything about his clothes that will prove his guilt."

Carl began to laugh.

"What's the joke?" snorted Burton.

"Vy," was the answer, "to t'ink I haf eighdeen huntert tollars aboudt me und don't know dot. Go on mit der search, McGlory."

Carl lifted his hands above his head, and the cowboy began pushing his hands into Carl's pockets. In the second pocket he examined he found something which he pulled out and held up for the observation of all. It was a canvas sack, lettered in black, "Burton's Big Consolidated Shows."

"One of the bags that held the money!" exclaimed Carter.

"I told you so!" whooped Burton.

Matt and McGlory were astounded. And so was Carl--so dumfounded that he was speechless.