CHAPTER IV.
PLANS.
"When I got over the point, pards," said Joe, dropping into a chair andfanning himself with his hat, "the _Wyandotte_ was just comin' downthe lake to pull off her usual race with herself. I hauled up in theroad, with the bushes between me and the water, ready to jump into thesaddle the minute the boat came opposite. I was keeping shady, you canbet your moccasins on that, and it was some sort of a jolt when I sawa galoot perched on a stone. He looked like a hobo, and the way hegrinned got on my nerves.
"'I'm funny, all right,' I says to him, 'but where I come from a fellergets shot if he looks that way at some one else.'
"'I ain't laffin' at you,' says the tramp, 'but at the joke them othermugs is playin' on you an' your push.'
"'Where does the joke come in?' I inquires.
"'Why,' he comes back, 'that other club is foolin' you with a boathere on Fourth Lake when the real boat is over on Third. If what I'ma-sayin' is worth a dollar to you, just remember and cough up.'
"Well, say, that hobo wasn't a holy minute grabbin' my attention. Ifell off the chug wheel right there and proceeded to palaver. It turnedout that Merton's gard'ner was sick for a few days, and that the trampmowed the lawn and did a few other things around the place. There wasan open window, Ollie and some of his pards were on the other sideof it, and the noise of the lawnmower didn't prevent the tramp fromhearing what was said. You can bet your last dollar it was hot news hegot hold of.
"Merton and the Winnequas were plannin' to fool us with the _Wyandotte_on Fourth Lake while they were warming up the real boat on Third. Thehobo said I could wait there at the Point till the _Wyandotte_ camecloser, and that I'd see Merton wasn't aboard; then he allowed that ifI'd sizzle over to the gun club on Third Lake I'd see the real prizewinner doing stunts that would curl my hair.
"The tramp was off for Waunakee, and had just dropped down on a stoneto rest. My coming along was a happenchance, as he hadn't intended topeddle the news he'd got hold of, but he recognized me as being a pardof Motor Matt's, and a dollar looked pretty big to him.
"I waited till the _Wyandotte_ was close, and then I saw that Mertonwasn't aboard. Would I swallow the hobo's yarn or not? I decided that Iwould, so I threw him a dollar and burned the air in the direction ofthe gun club and Third Lake.
"Well, t'other boat was there, sliding around like a streak of greasedlightning. Half the time I couldn't see her for the foam she kicked up.I managed to pick up the label on her bow as she was making a turn,and it's the _Dart_. But go--speak to me about that! Say, she getsto a place pretty near before she starts. Merton was aboard, and sowas that red-headed pard of his, Halloran. Halloran was working themachinery. I watched my chance and kept abreast of the _Dart_ for amile. Twenty-one miles is what the speedometer registered, although thecount may be shy a little one way or the other. I was too excited tobe entirely accurate. Our hands are in the air, pards, and no mistake.The _Sprite_'ll look like a turtle wallowin' along in the wake of aswordfish."
Matt and Lorry had listened to this recital with varying feelings. Mattwas deeply interested, but Lorry was visibly cast down.
"How big is the _Dart_, Joe?" inquired Matt.
"Twenty-five or thirty feet, Matt."
"You must be a little wrong in your estimate of the _Dart's_ speed. Itdoesn't seem possible that she could turn a mile in less than threeminutes."
"Well, look!" exclaimed McGlory, catching his first glimpse of Ping."If there ain't little Washee-washee Slant-eyes I'm a Chink myself.When and how did he flash out in these parts?"
Matt, by way of relieving the tension aroused by McGlory's excitingnews, told of the scuffle in the path leading up the bank, and thenallowed the Celestial to finish with an account of the way he had comefrom Frisco.
"Let's get back to the boats," put in Lorry impatiently, when Ping hadgot through with his pidgin English. "Hadn't I better withdraw the_Sprite_, Matt, and let some other fellow meet Merton?"
Matt stared.
"I didn't believe you were that sort of a fellow, Lorry," he returned,"and I don't think so yet."
"But if the _Sprite_ hasn't any chance----"
"She has a chance, and a good one, after I get her ready. There'll haveto be more extensive changes, that's all."
"What other changes are you thinking about?"
"Ping," said Matt, turning to the Chinese, "you go outside theboathouse and see that no one hangs around it while we're talking."
"Can do," chirped Ping, and shuffled out.
Matt pulled up a chair close to Lorry's and motioned for McGlory tojoin the inner circle. Then Matt explained about the loss of the rollof drawings.
The cowboy was mad clear through in half a second.
"It was Merton, all right," he scowled, "and you can bet a ten-dollarnote against a last year's bird's nest on that. By this time he'll knowwhat the improved _Sprite_ can do, and he'll also know that the _Dart_can run circles around her. We're Jonahed, for fair."
"No, we're not," said Matt. "As long as I thought we had only the_Wyandotte_ to beat, I was only planning to make the _Sprite_ fastenough for that purpose. But I can make the _Sprite_ the fastest thingon the lakes--it'll take a hustle, though, and I'll have to have amachinist helper."
"I don't care how many men you have to have, Matt, nor how many extrasupplies," returned Lorry, beginning to gather a little confidence fromthe quiet, determined air of the king of the motor boys. "Go ahead, andcall on me for what money you need."
"Over at the machine shop, where I've been getting some work done,"proceeded Matt, "they have a double-opposed, four-cycle automobileengine, capable of developing from eighteen to twenty horse-power ateighteen hundred revolutions per minute. The cylinders are five byfive. That's a pretty stiff engine for the _Sprite_, but the hullcould be strengthened, and we could put it in and get about ninety orninety-five per cent. of the horse-power by gearing down three to one.After the gears wear a little, the percentage of horse-power might dropto eighty. This motor will drive a three-bladed propeller twenty-sixinches diameter, thirty-two inches pitch. If the vibration don't shakeme out of the boat at eighteen hundred revolutions per minute, thespeed we'll get will be astonishing."
"Whoop!" exulted McGlory. "I don't know what it all means, but itlistens good. I reckon there's a kick or two in the old _Sprite_ yet."
"You can't run a boat engine like you run an automobile motor, Matt,"said Lorry.
"Of course not. A steady load and steady plugging in the water is awhole lot different from the give-and-take a motor gets in an auto;but we can keep up the eighteen hundred revolutions for ten minutes,anyhow--and the race only covers five miles. I'm fixing the _Sprite_to win the race, that's all."
"By George!" exclaimed Lorry, "it takes you to make a fellow feel good,Matt! You know what you're doing, every time and all the time. Go aheadwith the work, and bank on me to hold you up with both hands."
"Me, too, pard!" added McGlory.
"What we're doing," said Matt, "we want to keep strictly to ourselves.Merton has our drawings, and probably thinks he knows just what we'reabout. Let him think so. If he springs a 'dark horse' on us, we'll geteven by springing one on him."
"But can you get the _Sprite_ ready in time?" asked Lorry anxiously.
"Sure I can! I'll have to begin at once, though, and some of us willhave to stay in this boathouse night and day to make sure that none ofthe Winnequas come prowling around. If you'll stay here with McGlory,George, I'll borrow your motor cycle to go over to the machine shop anddicker for that second-hand engine."
"Go on," said Lorry. "While you're there you might get a man to helpyou."
Matt got up and pulled the motor cycle away from the bench.
"I'll be back in an hour, fellows," said he.
Leaving the boathouse, he dragged the wheel to the top of the steepbank, then, getting into the saddle, he gave the pedals a turn and wasoff like a shot along the wooded road that led past the insane asylumand by the Waunakee Road and Sherman Aven
ue into town.
If Motor Matt loved one thing more than another, it was a good, cleanfight for supremacy, such as the one that now confronted him and hisfriends. There was a zest in such a struggle, and the pleasure ofwinning out against odds, in a good cause, was its own reward.
As he whizzed along the wooded road, mechanically steering the wheelwhile his mind busied itself with other things, he was confrontedsuddenly by a rail held breast-high across his course. It wasimpossible to turn out at that point, and Matt had to shut off thepower and jam down hard on the brake.
He caught a glimpse of a silent form at each end of the rail, and then,as he halted, of half a dozen other forms rushing out at him from thebushes on each side of the road.
In another moment he was caught and dragged from the motor cycle.
Motor Matt's Prize; or, The Pluck That Wins Page 4