BY THE OLD QUARRY.
Traveling by night in the Hawk was not a new experience for Motor Matt
and his chums. When they had crossed the lake from Grand Haven, after
the capture of Hector Brady, they had come by night. At that time they
had had the moon to light their course, but on this trip to the old
quarry the moon was new and they had to depend upon the stars.
As the night advanced, the stars grew brighter and they were able to
distinguish the different features of the landscape below them. All was
in shadow, more or less, but groves of trees were darker than the open
stretches, and the highways were whitish lines dividing the country in
squares. A cluster of lights marked the situation of a village, and
stray gleams from below showed where the farm houses were located.
"I'd radder travel mit a air ship," remarked Carl, "dan any odder vay
vat I know. It vas fine, und dot's all aboudt it."
"Right-o, matey," answered Ferral. "I used to think there was nothing
like a good ship and a skipper's breeze to make a fellow in love with
life, but strike me lucky if there's anything on the seas to compare
with this. We can not only shift our course by putting the helm down or
up, but we can dive through the air like a porpoise in the water, and
then we can climb up like a blooming whale that wants to spout. I'm an
air sailor from this on, as long as the Hawk's afloat. Sell her? Not
for Joseph! not if some lubber was to offer us four times what we paid
for her. Eh, Matt?"
"It's all right to hang onto the craft until we get at all the ins and
outs of this air-ship business," replied the king of the motor boys
from his place among the levers, "but if we can't make some money out
of the Hawk after that, I'll have to unload my interest in her, Dick,
and get busy with something more profitable. Carl and I, you know,
haven't any rich uncles to stand behind us. We have to work like Sam
Hill for all we get."
"Dot's right," agreed Carl. "I haf vorked all my life like Sam Hill,
but I don'd got sooch a derriple sighdt now. Oof I shday hooked oop mit
Matt, dough, I bed you someding for nodding I come oudt on der dop."
"Aye, aye," cried Ferral heartily, "Motor Matt's the boy to win. But
I'm not going to let my rich uncle do everything for me. When we get
through with the Hawk I'm going to Quebec and get back in the King's
service. Nothing like the navy. My uncle wants to see me amount to
something in the service, and he stands ready to give me a boost, but I
told him to let me alone and watch me work my way up. I was captain of
the after gun crew on the old _Billy Ruffian_, and----"
Ferral broke off suddenly, leaned over the rail and peered downward.
"I'm a Fiji, Matt," he went on, "if I don't think we're close to the
canal. Cock your eye over the side, Carl, and take a look."
"Vell," said Carl, after a careful survey, "it vas a mighdy shtraight
rifer oof it vasn't der canal."
"Put your helm over, Matt," went on Ferral, "for here's where we take a
fresh tack."
Matt took a look for himself, then shifted the steering rudder so as to
turn the Hawk to the left, and at right angles with the course she had
been following.
"Now then, fellows," said he, "keep your eyes skinned for the old
quarry. They're all limestone quarries, in this part of the country,
and the one we're looking for ought to show as white as a strip of
macadam road."
For half an hour they whirred along, a moving blot against the stars.
It was Carl who first discovered the quarry.
"I t'ink I haf seen der blace, Verral," said he. "Look, vonce, off der
on der righdt."
Ferral stared in the direction indicated.
"You've hit it, mate," averred Ferral. "There's the old quarry, Matt,
and it lies to the right of the canal. There's a railroad track in
between."
"Well, we'll get down by the canal, opposite the quarry," said Matt.
"If the detective, Glennie, is anywhere around, he'll be on the lookout
for us and won't be slow reaching the place where we land."
"I can see a couple of trees close to the bank of the canal, Matt,"
announced Ferral, "and if we could drop in between them it would be a
good berth, and give us a fine place in which to moor the Hawk."
"Guide me to the place," returned Matt, "and be sure you don't land us
in the top of one of the trees."
"Turn her about two points to port," went on Ferral, keeping his keen
eyes below as he gave the direction. "There you are--steady as she is.
Now tilt her--gently, gently!"
Matt depressed the steering rudder, keeping the vertical planes rigid
as they were. When the Hawk had attained the proper slant to bring
her to an even keel between the two trees, Ferral gave the word. Matt
slowed the propeller and they glided easily downward.
"Now then," called Ferral, "straighten her out."
The nose of the air ship immediately swung upward, and she glided in
between the trees. Matt cut off the power, and Carl jumped out on one
side and Ferral on the other, each with a rope.
The trees stood about forty feet apart, with cleared ground in between,
and the propeller had hardly come to a standstill before Carl and
Ferral had the mooring ropes securely fastened to the tree trunks.
Matt leaped over the rail and began looking about him through the
semi-gloom.
"There's some one bearing this way from the direction of the railroad
track," said Ferral, in a low tone. "He's coming in a hurry, too."
Matt turned his eyes in the direction of Ferral's pointing finger. A
dark figure could be seen rapidly approaching. As the man drew nearer,
the starlight struck a vague flash from buttons on the front of his
coat.
"Looks like a man in uniform," remarked Matt, stepping out from under
the shadow of the trees. "Hello!" he cried. "Is that you, Glennie?"
"That's who it is, King," came a husky answer. "Glad you got that
letter in time to get here to-night. If you hadn't come before
to-morrow night it might have been too late."
"Sink me!" muttered Ferral. "Seems like I'd heard that voice before."
"Me, too," seconded Carl; "dere vas some familiar rings mit it."
Matt likewise had a vague notion that he had heard the voice before,
although he could not tell where. The man came steadily onward and,
when he halted within a few feet of the boys, they could see that he
was in uniform, and wore a cap with gold braid. There was lettering on
the cap, but it was too dark to read it. The collar of the man's coat
was turned up about his ears, and the cap was pulled down over his
forehead.
"You're Dave Glennie, are you?" queried Matt.
"Sure," was the answer, but there was a shifty undernote in the voice
which still further aroused Matt's suspicions. "Who did you think I
was? I've been watching by this old quarry for two or three days, and
when I sent that letter to you I had to get a boy to post it in La
Grange. Didn't dare to leave here myself. If you--Thunder! What's the
matter with you?"
Matt, with a quick move, had leaped at the man and jerked off his cap.
"Brady!" he shouted. "Help here, boys!"
He grabbed Brady by the shoulders, and both of them fell to the ground.
"Prady!" gasped Carl. "Vell, vat do you t'ink oof dot! Prady! Und ve
t'ought all der time he vas a tedectif! Ach, plazes, vat a surbrise!"
Ferral, appreciating the necessity of quick action, did not stop to
say anything. Running to Matt, he helped him hold Brady on the ground.
Presently, Carl came, and the three boys soon had the escaped convict
helpless.
Brady's fall had caused his coat to come open. Under it Matt saw a
lighter suit of prison stripes.
"Brady put the uniform on over the prison clothes," panted Matt.
"He's clever as ever," returned Ferral, "but what's his dodge?"
"Look a leedle oudt for some oof der odder members oof der gang!"
fluttered Carl. "Meppy dis is anoder drap."
"Trap nothing!" protested Brady. "Get off of me, you fellows, and give
me a chance to talk. I've got something to say that will open your
eyes. If you want to help my girl, now's your chance--but I've got to
go with you."