THE MANSION ON THE RIVER.
The Hawk, flying low over a populous country, attracted a good deal
of attention. People--men, women and children--came out of their
houses to stare and wonder. Probably most of them had read, in their
daily papers, of the exploits of Motor Matt and his air ship, so the
dirigible gas bag did not take them wholly by surprise. Some of those
on the ground started to follow the craft, looking up and shouting as
they ran.
"We don't want a gang of curious people trailing us clear to River
Forest," growled Harris. "Speed her up, Matt."
"This is fast enough for me," observed Sanders. "I guess I'd be a lot
easier in my mind, too, if you'd keep her close enough to the ground so
I could tumble out if anything slips a cog."
"No cog ever slips," replied Harris, "with King in charge of the
engine. He knows what he's doing, every time and all the time."
"Vell, you bed my life!" cried Carl. "He iss my bard, too, und I mighdt
schust as vell haf peen mit him und der Hawk, Harris, as running
aroundt mit you in La Grange. Vat ve dit vasn't nodding. Ve hat to come
pack py Modor Matt to findt oudt vat vas going on."
"No dream about that, either," said Harris grimly. "We did a lot of
telegraphing, in La Grange, but even that was lost time if Brady has
given us a proper steer."
Matt had thrown more power into the propeller. In spite of her heavy
load the Hawk was making about twenty miles an hour. The wind was
behind her, what little there was, and that helped.
"Now that we're going in good shape, Matt," said Harris, "tell me what
Brady said."
"Dick will do that, Harris," answered Matt. "I want to give my whole
attention to the engine."
Ferral gave the three officers and Carl the gist of Brady's information.
"First time on record, I guess," commented Burton, "that a crook like
Brady ever walked right back into the 'pen.'"
"It's a cinch that he wouldn't have walked back, either," observed
Harris, "if he hadn't been so hungry to land Pete and Whipple in the
same place. We're coming close to River Forest now, Matt," the officer
added, taking their bearings with a critical eye, "and we've got to
be careful not to arouse the curiosity of the townspeople. That line
of timber, over there, marks the course of the river. Caspar's house
is about a mile to the right. You'd better turn from the railroad and
strike across country. And you'd better keep as low as you can, so
the woods will screen our approach to the house. If Whipple, or Pete,
should see us, they might try to clear out in that automobile."
The turn at right angles to their course carried the Hawk across
farming land and toward a point of the woods near which, Harris stated,
the Caspar mansion was located. In order to keep the timber between the
air ship and the house, Matt dropped so low that the bottom of the car
only safely cleared the fences.
"Blamed if you can't do about whatever you want to with this machine!"
exclaimed Burton enthusiastically. "I've read about the Hawk, and about
Jerrold's air ship, the Eagle, but I hadn't no idee they'd been figured
down to such a fine point."
"The time is coming," said Matt, "when people will own air ships just
as they own automobiles now."
"Not me," averred Sanders. "The time'll never come when I trust my neck
to a few cubic feet of gas and a motor. The solid ground'll do me for
quite a spell yet."
"Better come down at the edge of the timber, Matt," counseled Harris,
indicating a favorable spot. "There's a place where you can moor her to
a fence post on one side and to a telephone pole on the other. You'll
have to look out for the wires."
"You can't pass under 'em!" cried Sanders, in trepidation.
"Then we'll jump over them," said Matt coolly, and the slant he gave
the car in making the "jump" caused all hands to hang on for dear life
to keep from being spilled out.
The manoeuvre, however, was effected in the neatest kind of style, the
Hawk skimming over the topmost wire, and changing her course during the
descent so that, when Matt brought her to an even keel on the surface
of the ground, she was parallel with the telephone line and just
between the farm fence and one of the poles.
Sanders scrambled out with an exclamation of thankfulness.
"If we go back with any prisoners," said he, "we'll not travel by air
ship."
"Not by _this_ air ship, anyhow, Mr. Sanders," laughed Matt, "for her
passenger capacity is limited."
Harris helped put the mooring ropes in place.
"It won't do to leave the car unguarded, Matt," said he, when the air
ship was safely fastened. "I don't think there's anything to be feared
from those in the house, for we're going to keep them busy, but some
one might happen along and get to tampering with the machinery."
"I'll leave Ferral and Carl to look after the craft," returned Matt.
"As for me, though, I want to go along with you and see if everything
at the house is as we expect to find it. If Helen Brady is going to be
rescued, I want to have a share in the work."
"Come along, then," said Harris, starting off through the woods.
"Oof you findt anyvone vat iss spoiling for a fighdt," Carl called
after them, "send him dis vay, oof you blease. I t'ink I vas spoiling
for vone meinseluf."
"Never mind him, mates," laughed Ferral; "just let him spoil. Carl's
too full of fight for his own good, anyhow."
Only a short stretch of timber lay between the advancing party and the
house. When they came upon the premises, they approached from the rear.
The house was large and had an old-fashioned mansard roof. The main
part of the structure was three stories in height. There was an
addition at the back that terminated at the lower part of the second
story. The grounds were extensive, and entirely surrounded by an iron
fence. A large stable filled in the back part of the yard.
Most of the windows of the house were boarded up, although here and
there was one that had not been closed. There was no barricade at the
rear door.
"Post yourself at the kitchen door, Sanders," said Harris, "and watch
the rear of the house and give some attention to the side. I'll place
Burton at a front corner, so he can watch the other side and the front.
Matt isn't armed, so he can come with me while I try to rout out the
gang, but keeping well behind and looking out for trouble."
Sanders placed himself at the kitchen door, revolver in hand, and the
other three moved off around the house to the front. Burton, as already
indicated by Harris, was placed at a front corner, where he could not
only command the entrance but the side Sanders had not been instructed
to look after.
"The lower windows are all boarded up on the first floor, so I guess
there won't be any getaways through them," commented Harris. "About the
only points it is absolutely necessary to watch are the doors at front
and rear. Neither of those has been boarded over."
Harris, as he finished, started up the broad front steps. When he
was halfway up, the front door suddenly opened and a tall man showed
himself. The man was neither Pete nor Whipple, although his face
slightly resembled Pete's. The moment the man saw Harris, climbing
upward with his drawn revolver, he started back. The policeman made a
dash upward, but the door was slammed in his face.
"They know what we want," muttered Harris, "and it looks like they were
going to fight. That fellow must have been Hooligan. Well, I don't
want to smash in Mr. Caspar's front door, so we'll try persuasion.
We've got the rascals bottled up, and it won't do them any good to
resist. If----"
The crack of a revolver rang out, and a whiff of smoke eddied upward
from one of the barricaded front windows. The bullet whistled
uncomfortably close to Harris' head, and even Matt heard the sing of
it, although it must have missed him by a foot or more.
"Down, Matt!" shouted Harris, throwing himself over the rail at the
side of the steps and dropping under the protection of the foundation
of the veranda. "Get into safer quarters, my lad," he went on, as the
young motorist landed beside him. "The rascals have loopholes in those
window barricades. I wonder what they hope to gain by such work?"
"Hello, you!" called an angry voice, muffled in tone, from behind the
boards where the shot had been fired.
"Hello, yourself!" shouted Harris, peering out from his place of
concealment. "What do you mean by firing at us?"
"Ye're trespassin' on Mr. Caspar's ground," went on the man in the
house, "an' I'm here to protect the property. Clear out!"
"We're officers of the law," cried Harris, "and you're giving refuge to
a couple of fugitives from justice. Is your name Hooligan?"
"What of it?" came the defiant response.
"Well, if you are," proceeded Harris, "I'll give you just five minutes
to open that front door and shove your brother, Pete, and his pal,
Whipple, out onto the veranda. After we have taken care of them, we'll
have you send the girl. I guess you know what we want. The quicker you
obey me, Hooligan, the better it will be for you."
"I know my business," continued the angry voice, "an' if ye don't git
off these grounds ye'll never live to git off."
"That's a game two can play at, Hooligan," answered Harris coolly.
"We're going to get the people we've come for if we have to batter in
the door."
"Yes, ye will!" whooped another voice, which Matt plainly recognized as
Whipple's. "Ye'll never git us alive."
"That's Whipple, Harris," whispered Matt.
"Glad to know you're there, Whipple," shouted Harris grimly. "Now we
know we're on the right track. You and Pete have got five minutes to
come out and give yourselves up."
"Ye got a picter of us comin' out!" taunted the voice. "We can
shoot--ye'll find that out--but, if ye press us too close, it's goin'
to be worse for the girl. If ye'll clear out an' let us go, we'll let
her go; if ye won't clear out, then it'll be a case o' up-sticks with
Helen Brady."
Matt's heart sank like lead. The scoundrels had the girl with them, and
they were seeking to make her safety their protection. How far would
they carry their murderous threats? The young motorist's blood ran cold
as he thought of Helen Brady's danger.