CHAPTER IX.
THE COIL TIGHTENS.
Matt's brain was a jumble of vague and half-formed ideas. He did notseem able to grasp any notion firmly, or hold to it realizingly. As hisbrain began to clear, its first lucid thought had to do with the rifleshot and the man in the automobile. Instinctively he turned his head sothat he could have a view of the road.
The automobile had come to a halt a little distance away. The woman,who had been riding in the tonneau and who must have given the screamwhich was still echoing in Matt's ears, had thrown open the car doorand stepped down from the machine.
She was young and pretty, wore a long dust-coat and had the ends of aveil flying out behind her well-shaped head.
Matt shifted his eyes to Murgatroyd. The latter was coolly getting outof the car. Reaching back, as soon as his feet had touched ground, hepulled a rifle from one of the seats, turned and walked a little waytoward Matt, halted and leaned on the gun. He did not speak, but hisdark, piercing eyes roved over Matt and then leaped on beyond, to wherethe a?roplane was lying.
Matt withdrew his gaze to give it to Murgatroyd's fair companion.
"Are you hurt?" cried the girl, as Motor Matt lifted himself and lookedtoward her.
"What is it to you, or that scoundrel with you, whether I am hurt ornot?" he answered angrily.
A hurt look crossed the girl's face. She had been hurrying toward Matt,but she now paused and drew back.
"Your business is with me, Motor Matt, and not with my niece," snappedMurgatroyd sharply. "She doesn't know anything about our affairs, andis undoubtedly feeling hard toward me because I fired that shot andbrought you down."
"Why did you do that, Uncle Amos?" demanded the girl shrilly. "Youmight have killed him!"
"No danger of that, Amy," was the cool answer. "I shouldn't have triedto bring him down if he had been high enough in the air for the fall tohurt him."
"Why did you try to bring him down, anyhow?"
The girl's alarm was merging rapidly into indignation and protest.
"Well," said Murgatroyd, "I wanted to talk with him, and he didn't seemat all anxious to stay alongside the automobile."
"So you ruined his flying machine and took the chance of hurting him!"
"Get back in the car, Amy," ordered Murgatroyd sharply. "You don'tunderstand what you are talking about. This young rascal deserves allhe receives at my hands, and more."
"He doesn't look like a rascal, or----"
"Will you mind?"
Murgatroyd turned and pointed toward the car. The girl hesitated amoment, then walked slowly back to the automobile and climbed into thetonneau.
Matt, meantime, had picked himself up, glad to find that he had nobroken bones. He was bruised and sore, and his coat was torn, but hedid not care for that. He had had a lucky escape, and just at thatmoment was more concerned about the a?roplane than he was about himself.
The flying machine, so far as Matt could see, did not appear to be verybadly broken.
"I'll hold you responsible for this, Amos Murgatroyd," said Matt,turning on the broker. "It was an unprovoked attack."
"You've given me plenty of cause to lay violent hands on you,"answered Murgatroyd. "What are you doing in this part of the country?"
"That's my business, not yours."
A snaky, malevolent smile crossed Murgatroyd's smooth face.
"It may be my business, too," said he. "You asked for the Traquairhomestead. Is it your intention to go there?"
"I don't care to discuss that point with you. Just understand thatyou'll be called on to answer for all the trouble you have caused meand also Mrs. Traquair. This scoundrelly attack on my a?roplane willcome in for part of the accounting."
"Yes?" was the sarcastic response. "The machine, to look at it fromhere, hasn't the appearance of being very badly hurt. Suppose we giveit a closer inspection?"
Matt wondered at the man's desire to learn more about the damage to thea?roplane. It was an hour or so before the reason was made clear to him.
Keeping a wary eye on Murgatroyd's rifle, Matt stepped over to thea?roplane.
The bullet had struck one of the propeller blades, snapping it off. Theblade, in turn, had struck and cut through one of the small wire cablesthat formed a stay for the rear rudder.
"You've put the machine out of business," said Matt. "The fall, too,may have damaged the motor pretty seriously. I can't tell that until Imake a closer examination."
"It will take you an hour or two, I suppose, to get the machinerepaired?"
"An hour or two!" exclaimed Matt. "I shall have to get some farmer tohaul it to the blacksmith shop, in Sykestown."
A guileful grin swept like an ill-omened shadow across Murgatroyd'sface. Without another word he went to the automobile, climbed to thedriver's seat, leaned the rifle against the seat beside him, andstarted the car. He did not continue on toward Sykestown, but made aturn and went back over the course he had recently covered.
"The scoundrel!" cried Matt. "He knew I was here to do what I couldfor Mrs. Traquair--that question I asked him about the homestead wouldhave proven that, even if he had not guessed it from the mere fact ofmy being in this section. He injured the a?roplane to keep me fromcarrying out any plan I might have for the rescue of Mrs. Traquair. Heknows it will take me some time to get the a?roplane fixed, and whileI'm doing that he'll be moving Mrs. Traquair from the homestead to someother place. That's why he was so anxious to find out how badly themachine was damaged. If it hadn't been seriously broken, no doubt he'dhave put another bullet into it. He'll pay for this if I've anything tosay about it."
For a few moments Matt sat down on the prairie and looked ruefully atthe helpless a?roplane.
This reverse meant much to Motor Matt. Quite likely it would preventthe sale of the machine to the government, for it was now practicallycertain the a?roplane could not be repaired and turned over to thegovernment for shipment east by the first of the month. This wouldhave been impossible, even if Matt had had leisure to repair thedamage--which he did not have on account of the necessity he was underof helping Mrs. Traquair.
How far back on the road the last house was situated Matt could notremember. He would have to go there, however, and hire the farmer totransport the a?roplane to Sykestown. The quicker this was done, andthe sooner the damage was repaired, then the more speedily he could usethe machine in helping Mrs. Traquair.
If repairs were going to consume too much time, then he could joinCameron, McGlory, and Ping and go to the Traquair homestead in thelieutenant's borrowed motor car.
Greatly cast down by his reverse, yet firmly determined to carry outhis original purpose at any cost, Matt set his face back along the road.
He was guessing good and hard about the young woman who was in theautomobile with Murgatroyd. She was the broker's niece, but she wasnot in favor of any of his villainous designs--that fact was beyonddispute. If the girl felt in this way, why had Murgatroyd had her alongwhile pursuing his dark schemes against Mrs. Traquair?
It was an enigma that baffled Matt. He gave up trying to guess it, andbegan reproaching himself for becoming so easily entangled with themotor car and its scoundrelly owner. He should have made sure that theman was not an enemy before bringing the a?roplane so close.
It is always easy to look back over our conduct and discover themistakes. In the present case, Matt was blaming himself when there wasreally no cause for it. If anything was at fault it was fate, which hadbrought the disastrous encounter to pass.
Every step Matt took reminded him of his bruises. His head throbbed andevery bone in his body seemed to ache. He continued to stride rapidlyonward, however, keeping his eyes constantly ahead in the hope ofdiscovering a farmhouse.
Suddenly he saw a fog of dust rising from the trail in the distance.The cloud was moving toward him and he had a quick thought that itmight be the automobile. The next moment the dust was whipped aside bythe rising wind, and he was sure of it.
The car was coming, but there was only
one man in the driver's seat.The girl had vanished from the tonneau.
"Murgatroyd took her to some farmhouse," ran Matt's startled thought,"and he is coming back to try some more villainous work." The youngmotorist's fists clinched instinctively, and a fierce gleam darted intohis gray eyes. "We'll see about that," he muttered, between his teeth.
The automobile came on swiftly, and Murgatroyd brought it to astandstill close beside Matt.
"Get in here," the broker ordered, nodding his head toward the tonneau.
"I've got other business on hand," answered Matt. "If you're going onto finish wrecking the a?roplane----"
"Don't be a fool!" snarled the broker, standing up and lifting hisrifle. "I've invited you to get into the car, but I can _order_, if youforce me to do that, and back up the order with this gun."
"You've used that gun once to-day, Murgatroyd," said Matt, giving thebroker a defiant look, "and I guess you'll find that's enough."
He passed on along the roadside close to the side of the automobile.The door of the tonneau was open. As he came abreast of it, a form thathad been hiding in the bottom of the car leaped out.
Matt, taken by surprise, tried to leap away. Before he could do so,however, he was in the grip of a pair of strong arms, and the face ofSiwash Charley was leering into his.
"This hyer's once things didn't come yer way, my bantam!" grittedSiwash Charley. "Stop yer squirmin', or I'll give ye a tap on the headthat'll put ye out o' bizness."
Motor Matt's Reverse; or, Caught in a Losing Cause Page 9