CHAPTER III.
THE ATTACK ON THE CAR.
Carl was having a fight. Matt and Dick were able to discover that muchas they rushed from the house. And the fight was against hopeless odds,for at least a dozen men could be seen in the faint glow of the fire.They were pressing around the car, and Carl, standing in Matt's chair,was laying about him with a long-handled wrench, keeping the attackingforce temporarily at bay.
"Keelhaul me!" cried Ferral, as he raced after Motor Matt. "What doesthat gang mean by making a dead-set at the _Hawk_? They're negroes, thelot of them!"
"There's one white man, Dick!" answered Matt. "Whistler is there. Hemust have recognized us in the woods and he's setting the negroes on tosmash the air ship, or else capture it."
"The confounded swab! He'll not find it so easy, I warrant you."
Whistler, leaving the negroes to get the better of Carl, was working atone of the mooring ropes. This made it look as though he was trying tosteal the air ship rather than to destroy it.
Carl, sweeping his makeshift weapon in a fierce circle about him andnow and then bowling over a negro who came too close, caught sight ofhis two chums hustling for the scene.
"Hoop-a-la!" Carl bellowed. "Here comes my bards, und now you fellersvas going to ged more as you t'ought. Dere vill be doings now, unddon'd forged dot! Slide indo der scrimmage, Matt, you und Tick! It vasgoing to be some hot vones, I dell you dose."
Just then the wrench hit a negro and knocked him off his feet.
"Dot vas me," yelped Carl, "und I gif you some sambles oof vat you vasto oxpect! I peen der olt Missouri Rifer, py shinks, und ven I shvellmy banks den it vas dime peoples took to der hills! I vas der orichinalPengal diger, fresh from der chungle und looking to gopple oop vatefergeds in my vay! Ach, vat a habbiness! Sooch a pooty fighdt vat it iss!"
It was perhaps a sad thing, yet nevertheless true, that Carl Pretzelloved a fist fight better than he loved a square meal; and that wassaying a good deal--for Carl.
While he was fighting it was his custom to waste a good deal ofvaluable breath boasting about his own prowess and taunting his foes.Just now he was the old Missouri River and the original Bengal tiger,both rolled into one. But he had hardly finished introducing himself tothe negroes before one of them hit him with a stone. The wrench droppedfrom Carl's hand and he turned a back somersault over the rail of thecar. Before he could get up, half a dozen husky negroes had piled ontop of him and he was helpless and unable to make a move.
Matt and Dick, bearing down with all speed upon Whistler, saw theirchum as he tumbled out of the car. They could not do anything for Carlat that moment, however, as Whistler had straightened erect and flung ahand to his hip.
The boys knew what that motion meant. Whistler was a desperate man, andas quick to use a revolver, when he had one, as he was to use his fistswhen he hadn't.
"Land on him--before he can shoot!"
As Dick yelled the words, Matt cleared the distance separating him fromWhistler with a wild leap. His body struck Whistler's squarely, andwith a terrific impact. Both went down and rolled over and over on theground.
The revolver, which Whistler had just drawn from his pocket, fell fromhis hand. Dick saw it and was less than a second in grabbing it up.
"We've drawn Whistler's fangs, mate," he shouted to Matt, who hadregained his feet. "He'll not trouble us, and this piece of cold steelwill give the negroes something to think about. Break away, there!" andDick, flourishing the weapon, jumped for the crowd that had laid holdof Carl.
The negroes, from what Matt could see of them, appeared to be laborersfrom some neighboring plantation. Nearly all of them were big andpowerful, but ran to brute strength rather than to science.
The attack on the car, there was no doubt, had been engineered byWhistler. He recognized in Matt and his friends a source of peril, andby capturing the _Hawk_ and injuring one or more of the boys, he wouldbe able to reduce the peril to a minimum.
It had been strange, indeed, that the boys should have encounteredtheir old enemy there on the bank of that Louisiana bayou. ButWhistler, either acting for himself or in conjunction with Jurgens, wasscheming to regain possession of the iron chest. Inasmuch as the chestwas presumably still in the hands of Townsend, the man whom Matt andhis friends were going to New Orleans to meet, there was a reason forWhistler and the boys being in that part of the country at the sametime. So their meeting was not such a remarkable coincidence, after all.
The sight of the revolver threw the blacks into a panic. Those who hadcaptured Carl sprang away from him and retreated warily toward the edgeof the timber. At the same time, the others began to draw back from thecar.
"Go for 'em, you cowards!" yelled Whistler, scrambling to his feet."You're getting a dollar apiece, all around, for this, but by thunderyou've got to earn it."
"Keep away from this air ship," shouted Matt sternly, posting himselfnear the end of the car. "The man who lays a hand on the _Hawk_ does soat his own peril."
"Never mind him!" bawled Whistler, "Sail into 'em with stones if youcan't do any better."
Stones could be used at fairly long range, and the negroes, screenedby the shadows of the timber, began at once to act upon Whistler'ssuggestion. Missiles, large and small, began raining down upon theboys, banging against the car, slapping into the silken envelope of thegas bag, and menacing the motor. Something would have to be done, andquickly, or disaster would overtake the _Hawk_.
"Stay with the _Hawk_, Carl!" shouted Matt. "This way, Dick! We've gotto scatter those fellows into the timber or they'll put a hole in thegas bag or do some damage to the motor."
As he spoke, Matt flung away in the direction of the timber line. Witha whoop, Dick followed him. Before Matt had got half way to the timber,he was struck in the shoulder and knocked down. Half stunned, and withhis whole right side feeling as though it was paralyzed, he rose to hisknees.
Dick had fared little better. A rock, thrown by one of the black men,had hit the revolver he was carrying and knocked it from his hand.The weapon flew off somewhere in the darkness, and while the stonescontinued to hail through the air, Dick went down on all fours andtried to locate the six-shooter.
"Now you've got 'em!" came the voice of Whistler. "They've lost the gunand are all but done for. Rush 'em!"
The negroes, considering that they were only receiving a dollar eachfor helping Whistler, were putting a lot of vim and ginger into theone-sided combat.
Giving vent to exultant yells, they rushed from the timber and, in afew minutes more, would have overwhelmed Matt and his friends by sheerforce of numbers. But the unexpected happened.
From the door of the hut came old Yamousa, her tattered garmentsflying about her as she ran. Over her head she held a gleamingwhite skull--either of a cat or a dog--and the picture she made,gliding through the firelight, was enough to awe the fiercest of thesuperstitious blacks.
"Stop!" she screeched. "Zis ees somet'ing I will not have. Zese boysare my franes--_mes amis_--an' I will not haf zem hurt. You hear? T'rowone more stone an' Yamousa puts _obi_ on ze lot of you, ev'ry las' one.How do you like zat, you niggers? How you like ze evil eye on you?"
Instantly the headlong rush of the blacks was stopped. Halting intrepidation, they drew together, hands drooping at their sides andevery ounce of hostility oozing out at their finger tips.
The boys were amazed at the old woman's power. Under the spell of theirsuperstition, the negroes were held as by iron chains.
"Don't let the old hag fool you!" shouted Whistler. "She can't hurt youas much as those white boys can if you leave 'em alone. They came outof the sky in their bird ship, and if you don't capture them they'llput something worse than the evil eye upon you. Never mind Yamousa!"
A murmuring went up from the blacks and they began to move undecidedly.
Hissing like an enraged wild cat, Yamousa flung herself forward andlaid the skull she was carrying in the forward end of the car, justwhere the firelight would show it to the eyes of the black men.
"Ze white man talk," she screamed, tossing her arms, "an' what hesay ees nozzing. You know what Yamousa can do--how she can spoil zeluck an' bring ze long sickness. Zis air ship ees under ze protectionof Obboney. Touch heem if you dare! An' zeese white boys are myfranes--hurt zem an' you hurt me. Shall I put ze spell on you? Spik!"
Lifting herself to her full height, Yamousa raised her skinny arms andwaved her talon-like hands. A yell of fear went up from the blacks. Toa man they fell on their knees, imploring the Obeah woman not to workany evil spells.
Whistler raged and fumed, but all to no purpose. The negroes werecompletely dominated by Yamousa and would not listen to him.
"Zis white man who gif you ze dollar apiece to do zis what you try,"went on Yamousa, "come to Yamousa's place zis night, drag her to zestump in ze wood, tie her zere an' beat her wiz ze stick----"
Roars of consternation went up from the blacks.
"Zese white boys save Yamousa," the hag went on, "an' now you come an'try to keel zem an' take zeir bird ship! _Sacre tonnere!_ Me, I put_obi_ on zat white man wiz ze black heart! You catch heem, bring heemto me, give heem blow for blow zat he struck Yamousa, an' I gif youeach ze lucky charm. Zat ees better zan a dollar each, eh?"
By then the blacks were completely under Yamousa's influence. As shefinished, they sprang up and made a rush for Whistler. That worthy,understanding well how cleverly he had been worsted, took to his heelsand fled into the timber, the blacks whooping and yelling, and pushinghim hard.
"You all right now," said Yamousa, turning to the boys with a cacklinglaugh. "Come back in ze house while I show you somet'ing in ze smoke."
"I don'd vant to shtay py der _Hawk_ mit dot t'ing!" whooped Carl,pointing to the white skull. "My nerfs iss vorse as dey vas, a heap!Don'd leaf me alone, bards!"
"You go on with Matt, Carl," said Dick, "and I'll stay and watch theair ship. I guess there's not much danger now, anyhow. Yamousa has gotthe negroes under her thumb in handsome style, and Whistler will havehis hands so full looking after himself that he won't be able to tryany games with the air ship."
Carl was not in love with the idea of going into the house; still,he liked it better than staying out in the open all by himself. Asupernatural twist had been given to the course of events and Carl wasanything but easy in his mind. When Matt followed Yamousa back towardthe hut, Carl took hold of his arm and kept close beside him.
Motor Matt's Queer Find; or, The Secret of the Iron Chest Page 3