Produced by David Edwards, Demian Katz and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Imagescourtesy of the Digital Library@Villanova University(https://digital.library.villanova.edu/))
MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING ADVENTURE
MOTOR FICTION
NO. 10 MAY 1, 1909
FIVE CENTS
MOTOR MATT'S HARD LUCK OR THE BALLOON HOUSE PLOT
"This way, Dick" yelled Motor Matt as he struck down one of the ruffians.]
STREET & SMITH PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION
_Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered according toAct of Congress in the year 1909, in the Office of the Librarian ofCongress, Washington, D. C., by_ STREET & SMITH, _79-89 Seventh Avenue,New York, N. Y._
No. 10. NEW YORK, May 1, 1909. Price Five Cents.
Motor Matt's Hard Luck
OR,
THE BALLOON-HOUSE PLOT.
By the author of "MOTOR MATT."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. AN OLD FRIEND. CHAPTER II. A TRAP. CHAPTER III. OVERBOARD. CHAPTER IV. RESCUED. CHAPTER V. BUYING THE "HAWK." CHAPTER VI. MATT SCORES AGAINST JAMESON. CHAPTER VII. AT THE BALLOON HOUSE. CHAPTER VIII. THE PLOT OF THE BRADY GANG. CHAPTER IX. CARL IS SURPRISED. CHAPTER X. HELEN BRADY'S CLUE. CHAPTER XI. JERROLD GIVES HIS AID. CHAPTER XII. GRAND HAVEN. CHAPTER XIII. THE LINE ON BRADY. CHAPTER XIV. THE WOODS BY THE RIVER. CHAPTER XV. BRADY A PRISONER. CHAPTER XVI. BACK IN SOUTH CHICAGO. THE RED SPIDER. PIGEON-WHISTLE CONCERTS.
CHARACTERS THAT APPEAR IN THIS STORY.
=Matt King=, concerning whom there has always been a mystery--a lad of splendid athletic abilities, and never-failing nerve, who has won for himself, among the boys of the Western town, the popular name of "Mile-a-minute Matt."
=Carl Pretzel=, a cheerful and rollicking German lad, who is led by a fortunate accident to hook up with Motor Matt in double harness.
=Dick Ferral=, a Canadian boy and a favorite of Uncle Jack; has served his time in the King's navy, and bobs up in New Mexico where he falls into plots and counter-plots, and comes near losing his life.
=Helen Brady=, Hector Brady's daughter, who helps Motor Matt.
=Hector Brady=, a rival inventor who has stolen his ideas from Hamilton Jerrold. His air ship is called the Hawk and is used for criminal purposes. Brady's attempt to secure Motor Matt's services as driver of the Hawk brings about the undoing of the criminal gang.
=Hamilton Jerrold=, an honest inventor who has devoted his life to a?ronautics, and who has built a successful air ship called the Eagle.
=Jameson=, a rich member of the A?ro Club, who thinks of buying the Hawk.
=Whipple=, =Pete=, =Grove=, =Harper=, members of Brady's gang who carried out the "balloon-house plot," which nearly resulted in a tragedy, and finally proved the complete undoing of Hector Brady.
=Ochiltree=, an ex-convict whose past record nearly got him into trouble.
=Harris=, a policeman of South Chicago who aids Motor Matt in his work against the Bradys.
=Dennison and Twitchell=, police officers of Grand Haven, Michigan, who take a part in the final capture of Brady.
CHAPTER I.
AN OLD FRIEND.
"Py chimineddy!" muttered Carl Pretzel to himself, starting up on thecouch, where he had been snatching forty winks by way of passing thetime. "Vat's dot? Der voice has some familiar sounds mit me. Lisdenvonce."
A loud, jovial voice floated in through the open window, a voice with aswing to it that set Carl's nerves in a flutter.
"'In Cawsand bay lying, And a Blue Peter flying, All hands were turned up the anchor to weigh, There came a young lady, As fair as a May-day, And modestly hailing, the damsel did say:
"'"I've got a young man there, D'ye hear? Bear a hand there To hoist me aboard or to bring him to me: Which his name's Henry Grady, And I am a lady, Just come down to purwent his a-going to sea."'"
The roaring song had come closer and closer. By then it was almostunder the open window. Jumping from the couch, Carl ran across the roomand looked out.
A youth of seventeen or eighteen, wearing a sailor rig and with his hatcocked over one eye, was lurching along with both hands in his pockets.Behind him trailed four or five hoodlums, bunched close together andtalking among themselves.
"Here's where I quit you, you lubbers," said the young sailor, haltingat the steps leading up to the boarding-house door, and turning to thehoodlums. "A messmate of mine berths here, and I'm going to drop in onhim and have a bit of a chat over old times. 'Bout ship, the lot ofyou, and make a good offing. I don't like the cut of your jibs any toowell, anyhow. Slant away, slant away."
The sailor backed up against a post at the bottom of the steps.
"Say, yous ole webfoot," said one of the hoodlums, "loosen up, can'tyous, an' fork over the price o' a drink, all around?"
The fellow shambled closer to the sailor and held out one hand with anexpectant grin.
"Not a bob will I give you for a tot of drink," answered the sailor,"for I'll be keelhauled if you don't look as though you'd already beentopping the boom too much for your own good, but I'll loosen up, as youcall it, for a good meal all around."
His hand went into the pocket of his trousers and he drew out a bigroll of bills. A greedy gleam darted into the hoodlum's eyes as heglimpsed the bundle of money, and those at his back pushed closertogether, nudging each other in the ribs and pointing while thesailor's head was bent.
Suddenly the rascal who had acted as spokesman for the rest made a leapand a grab.
"Avast there, you loafing longshore scuttler!" yelled the young tar."What sort of a beachcomber's trick do you call that?"
The hoodlum had whirled, the roll in his hands, and was making off asfast as his legs could carry him. The sailor sprang after him, butthe rest of the thieving pack jumped in his way and began using theirfists, hoping to give their pal the necessary time to get clear withthe money.
Carl Pretzel, with an angry shout, withdrew from the open window,dashed from the room, down the stairs and out at the front door.Without paying any attention to the sailor and those with whom he wastussling, the Dutch boy rushed past the struggling group and made a beeline after the thief.
Carl was too fat for a swift sprinter, but the thieving hoodlum washandicapped by a game leg, and Carl was able to overhaul him slowly.
Looking over his shoulder in order to take in the situation behind,the thief saw the Dutch boy, and redoubled his efforts to get away. Analley lay just ahead, and the thief turned into it. Carl plunged afterhim, but when he got into the alley, the fellow with the money hadmysteriously vanished.
"Dot's a funny t'ing!" panted Carl, coming to a halt and peeringaround. "Vere dit he go mit himseluf?"
Garbage barrels and boxes lined the alley on both sides. Carl startedonward again, peering sharply behind each garbage receptacle as headvanced. Suddenly he discovered the man he was looking for, crouchingbehind a big box.
Carl was a little way beyond the box before he caught sight of thethief.
"Dere you vas!" he yelled, as he faced about. "Now I ged you, und Idake avay vat you got--yah, so helup me!"
He rushed at the thief, and the latter got up, squirmed around the endof the box, and leaped for the side of a shed whose wall stood flushwith the alley.
The shed had a square opening, about four feet from the ground, forconvenience in unloading wood. The thief had his eye on the opening. Ifhe cou
ld get into the shed, he probably reasoned, he could run throughinto the back yard of the house, gain the street in front, and so,undoubtedly, evade his fat pursuer.
But he didn't make it. By the time he was half through the opening,Carl was close enough to grab his thrashing feet, and he hung onto themlike grim death.
"How you like dot, hey?" jubilated the Dutch boy. "You findt oudt, pyshimmy, dot it don'd vas so easy to ged avay mit money dot don'd pelongmit you. Oof you shkin oudt, you leaf your feet pehind, und oof youdon't come pack indo der alley, den I pull you in two. How vas dot forsome fixes?"
"Wot's de matter wit' yous?" came the angry, muffled voice from insidethe shed. "Le'go 'r I'll kick a hole in your face!"
"You vill I don'd t'ink," puffed Carl, still hanging to the feet. "Gifoop der money, you dinhorn, oder I turn you ofer py der bolice und yougo to der lockoop."
The hoodlum made no move to return the money, but continued to strugglewildly. With a firm hold on each ankle, Carl laid back and pulled forall he was worth; but the thief had caught hold of something inside andall Carl's pulling didn't get him an inch toward the alley.
While the whole matter was at a deadlock, the thief half in half out ofthe shed, and Carl tugging fruitlessly, the young sailor appeared atthe end of the alley. Taking quick note of the situation at the shed,he gave a yell and bore down in that direction.
"Well, strike me lucky, old ship," cried the young tar, "this is mybusy day and no mistake. Is that the duffing son of a flounder that gotaway with my wad?"
"He iss der feller, Verral," panted Carl. "He don'd vant to come outoof der vood shet."
"Hang onto his pins, matey," was the answer, "and I'll fix him."
The sailor pushed his hands through the hole, grabbed the hoodlum bythe throat, and exerted a steady pressure.
This manoeuvre was successful. Half strangled, the thief's clutchingfingers relaxed their hold, and the sailor and Carl, between them,managed to drag him back into the alley.
"Now, you pirate," cried the sailor, dropping down on the captive,"where's that money? That was a raw play you made and you might havepulled it off if it hadn't been for my mate, here. D'you want to gobelow, in irons? Where's the roll?"
"Look in his bocket vonce," suggested Carl.
"I'll kill you fer dis!" fumed the hoodlum.
"Stow that!" growled the sailor. "I've a knife at the end of mylanyard, but there's nothing about this that calls for cold steel.Drop down on his feet, Carl, and that will hold him steady while I gothrough his clothes."
While the Dutch boy sat on the hoodlum's feet, the sailor was ableto push his hands into the thief's pockets. The roll was found andappropriated, and both boys leaped up.
The hoodlum floundered erect.
"I'll git even fer dis!" he scowled. "Yous can't run in dat kind of aplay on Nifty Perkins an' make it stick."
"Bear away!" cried the sailor angrily. "Maybe that'll help you," and hegave the villainous scoundrel a kick that sent him two yards on his waytoward the street.
The hoodlum turned to shake his fist, and mutter a threat, then startedoff at a run. When he reached the street, the rest of his pals joinedhim. For a time they hung about the alley entrance, apparently tryingto make up their minds whether it would be wise to attack the sailorand Carl in force.
"Donnervetter!" cried Carl. "Dot looks like a shance for somescrappings. I don'd vas looking for drouple, aber you bed somet'ing fornodding dot I don'd dodge any. Come along mit yourseluf, Verral! Led'sgif dem fellers Hail Golumby."
"Cut away!" shouted the young sailor. "The swabs that ran foul of mebolted as soon as you crossed that other chap's hawse. I'd like tosquare my score with them."
But the hoodlums did not wait. Carl and the sailor looked altogethertoo war-like. By the time the two boys reached the end of the alley,the street rowdies had taken to their heels.
"A jolly fine lot they are!" cried the sailor contemptuously. "Yousaved my roll for me, Carl. Haven't had time to shake your hand before,but I can do it now to the king's taste. Your flipper, mate!"
Carl gripped the sailor's hand.
"Vat a surbrise it iss!" he exclaimed. "I don'd haf time to say moochaboudt dot, eider, aber ven I heardt you singing mit yourself, undlooked oudt oof der vinder und saw dot you vas Tick Verral, I ketchedmy breat' a gouple oof times. Vere you come from, Tick?"
"From Denver, messmate," answered Dick Ferral. "My uncle supplies mewith plenty of money, but just the same I'd hate to lose that roll. Hemade me a present of it when I started for Quebec. But where's my oldraggie, Motor Matt? I stopped off here in Chicago just to see him. Gothis address from the Lestrange automobile people, and I'm fair hungryto grip his fin, once more. I'll never forget what Matt King did forme--and my uncle won't, either."
"He don'd vas in Chicago schust now, Tick," said Carl. "He vill bepack in two or dree tays, meppy. Anyhow, oof he don'd come pack pydo-morrow, meppy ve go oudt vere he iss, und see him? Vat you t'ink oofdot?"
Dick Ferral's disappointment was keen, and he showed it plainly.
"How far is he from here, Carl?" he asked.
"Only a leedle vays. It iss in a blace vat dey call Sout' Chicago."
"What's Matt doing out there?"
"Vell, ve hat some ructions oudt dere--a mighdy high olt time, you bedyou. Look at here vonce. Ven you read somet'ing, den you vill knowmore."
Carl pulled a newspaper out of his pocket and held it under Ferral'seyes, indicating a certain paragraph with his finger.
What Ferral read was this:
"For Sale--The practicable air ship, Hawk, fully equipped with gasolinemotor, rudders, propellers, and almost new gas bag. Apply to Chief ofPolice, South Chicago, Illinois."
Motor Matt's Hard Luck; or, The Balloon-House Plot Page 1