MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING
ADVENTURE
MOTOR
FICTION
NO. 14
MAY 29, 1909
FIVE
CENTS
MOTOR MATT'S
PROMISE
OR THE WRECK
OF THE HAWK
_By THE AUTHOR OF
"MOTOR MATT"_
[Illustration: _Slowly and carefully,
Motor Matt went about his
work watched breathlessly
by Carl._]
_STREET & SMITH
PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK_
MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION
_Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered according to
Act of Congress in the year 1909, in the Office of the Librarian of
Congress, Washington, D. C., by_ STREET & SMITH, _79-89 Seventh Avenue,
New York, N. Y._
No. 14. NEW YORK, May 29, 1909. Price Five Cents.
MOTOR MATT'S PROMISE;
OR,
THE WRECK OF THE _HAWK_.
By the author of "MOTOR MATT."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. ON THE LEVEE.
CHAPTER II. MIXED IDENTITIES.
CHAPTER III. DOUBLE-TROUBLE.
CHAPTER IV. TRICKED!
CHAPTER V. MOTOR MATT'S PROMISE.
CHAPTER VI. DASHINGTON DASHED.
CHAPTER VII. A HARD STARTER.
CHAPTER VIII. A BULLET FROM BELOW.
CHAPTER IX. THE WRECK.
CHAPTER X. THE UNEXPECTED.
CHAPTER XI. A FRIEND FROM THE ENEMY'S CAMP.
CHAPTER XII. THE BAG OF DIAMONDS.
CHAPTER XIII. A DARING PLOT.
CHAPTER XIV. ON THE ROAD.
CHAPTER XV. A NEW MAN TAKES A HAND.
CHAPTER XVI. CONCLUSION.
THE MASKED LIGHT (CONCLUSION).
SPANISH CEDAR LOGS.
COOKING THE VENISON STEAK.
BABY OSTRICHES.
MINK FARM IN OREGON.
CHARACTERS THAT APPEAR IN THIS STORY.
=Motor Matt=, a lad who is at home with every variety of motor, and
whose never-failing nerve serves to carry him through difficulties
that would daunt any ordinary young fellow. Because of his daring
as a racer with bicycle, motor-cycle and automobile he is known as
"Mile-a-minute Matt." Motor-boats, air ships and submarines come
naturally in his line, and consequently he lives in an atmosphere of
adventure in following up his "hobby."
=Carl Pretzel=, a cheerful and rollicking German boy, stout of frame
as well as of heart, who is led by a fortunate accident to link his
fortunes with those of Motor Matt.
=Dick Ferral=, a young sea dog from Canada, with all a sailor's
superstitions, but in spite of all that a royal chum, ready to stand
by the friend of his choice through thick and thin.
=Archibald Townsend=, a wealthy though eccentric gentleman, who owns
a remarkable submarine boat on which our friends have seen various
adventures in the past.
=Cassidy=, mate of the submarine _Grampus_.
=Whistler=, }
=Jurgens=, } a trio of rogues bent upon gaining possession of a prize.
=Bangs=, }
=Joe Dashington=, Motor Matt's double, who proves how small a matter
will sometimes turn a fellow from the wrong road into the right one.
=Shirley, of Scotland Yard=, who springs a surprise at the end of the
story.
=Fetterman, assistant chief of police=, who helps the Scotland Yard
man.
CHAPTER I.
ON THE LEVEE.
"Py shiminy grickets!"
"Well, strike me lucky!"
"Can I pelieve vat I see mit my eyes, Tick, or haf I got der plind
shtaggers?"
"I'm guessing good and hard, Carl. It's main queer, and no mistake."
"Py all der rules oof der game dot feller iss Matt King, oddervise
Modor Matt, oddervise Mile-a-minute Matt, King oof der Modor Poys und
Gaptain oof der air ship _Hawk_, aber I bed you I nefer see him like
dot pefore."
"It's Matt, all right, but sink me if I'm not taken all aback by the
way he acts. What's come over the old ship to do like that?"
It was about half-past four in the afternoon, and Carl Pretzel and
Dick Ferral were on their way along the water front of New Orleans.
They had gone into town on an important errand and were now returning
to Stuyvesant Dock, where their air ship was moored and where they had
expected to find Motor Matt.
Just off the foot of Canal Street a steamer was loading for False
River. Four-mule teams attached to heavy drays were backed up to the
wharf and long lines of darkies were crossing the gang plank with bags
on their shoulders and recrossing empty-handed for other burdens.
It was an attractive scene for the two boys and they halted for a
few moments to watch; then, suddenly, a big surprise was sprung on
them. They saw Motor Matt, hands in his pockets, loafing along the
levee--at least they thought it was Motor Matt, for the lad was of the
same build, the same height and with a face exactly like the young
motorist's. Carl and Dick knew Matt so well that they were positive
they were not mistaken, but there was something about Matt they could
not understand.
In the first place, Matt was slouching along. That wasn't like him,
for as a rule he was as spry as a cricket in all his movements. Then,
again, Matt was wearing a slouch hat, a dingy red sweater and frayed
corduroy trousers--all as different as possible from the trim young
motorist in his leather cap and jacket. But--and this was the most
incomprehensible thing to Carl and Dick--Matt was smoking a cigarette.
Now, Motor Matt was down on cigarettes good and hard, for he knew the
havoc they made with a fellow's constitution, and that no one could
keep in the pink of condition if he used them; and yet, there he was
with one of the rice-paper things hanging between his lips.
Small wonder Carl and Dick were astounded. If a small-sized earthquake
had happened along and shaken things up generally the two boys could
not have been more astounded.
Although they were in plain view, yet Matt did not seem to notice them.
For a while they stared--and then, abruptly, Dick had an idea.
"He's in disguise," averred Dick.
"For vy iss he dot?" inquired Carl.
"It must be he's watching somebody and don't want the fellow to know
who he is."
"Vat a foolishness!" muttered Carl. "He can't make some disguises
unless he geds anodder face. I vould know dot face oof his anyvere, no
madder how he vas got oop, nor how many cigarettes he shmoked. Ach, du
lieber! I am surbrised ad him, und dot's all aboudt it."
"Well," continued Dick, "this letter of Townsend's is important and
I've got to get it into his hands. If Matt is watching somebody, the
thing is to hand him the letter without giving him away. Any one seeing
us chinning with him would suspect right away that he was our chum, for
all three of us are pretty well known up and down the river front."
"Dot's righdt," said Carl. "Ve don'd vant to tip off his game oof he
iss blaying vone. How ve vas going to gif him der ledder, hey?"
"I guess I can do it, but it won't be any first-chop work. I'll give a
whistle and make him look this way, then I'll flash the letter, lay it
on this bale of cotton, and we'll back off and give him a wide berth."
"Meppy der feller Matt iss vatching vill see you do dot?"
"Mayhap, but we've got to run the risk. This letter of Townsend's, you
know, is important and must be acted upon to-night. Now listen while I
pipe up."
Ferral put his fingers to his lips and whistled shrilly. Several
loungers looked toward the two boys, Matt himself shifting his eyes
languidly in their direction. Ferral at once drew a letter from the
breast of his shirt, held it in front of him, cautiously pointed to it
as he looked at Matt and then laid it on the bale of cotton.
It was far from being cleverly done--the very nature of the case, with
so many loungers about, put cleverness out of the question. All Dick
hoped for, however, was that the man Matt was watching might not see
the move.
The work of Carl and Dick was built entirely on surmises. Unable to
explain Matt's get-up and actions in any other way, they surmised that
he must be watching some one; but the biggest surmise--and which, to
the boys, seemed no surmise at all, but positive reality--was that the
lad was Motor Matt.
Matt, hands still in his pockets and cigarette between his lips,
shuffled toward the cotton bale.
"We've tipped him off," chuckled Dick, as he and Carl backed away.
"He'll fall afoul of that letter, now, and it's up to us to give him a
good offing. I hope the move wasn't seen by the swab he's got under his
eye."
From a safe distance the two boys watched while Matt came close to
the bale and leaned against it while he picked up the letter. He was
amazingly open and aboveboard while he examined that letter. Carl and
Dick thought he would sneak it off the cotton bale, tuck it in his
pocket and lounge carelessly away. But they were mistaken. Matt held
the letter up curiously and turned it around and around in his hand.
"Well, keelhaul me!" growled Dick. "He might just as well tell
everybody what we've done as to examine the letter like that. There
must be a screw loose in his head! Why, I never saw him act like that
before. I can't smoke his roll any way you put it."
"I vas all mixed oop aboudt it meinseluf," said Carl, in a puzzled
tone. "He iss acting so keveer as I can't tell. Oof he vas keeping
drack oof somepody, vy don'd----"
Just then something happened that caused Carl to catch his breath. A
startled exclamation escaped Dick.
In a flash the cotton bale had leaped into flame!
Wild shouts came from everywhere on that part of the levee. Stevedores
dropped their burdens, bystanders lost their passive demeanor and
teamsters jumped from their trucks. Buckets were secured and dipped in
the river, and hustled toward the blazing bale with the water.
Meanwhile, Matt had slouched off to a good distance from the fire.
While the boys drew nearer and watched excitedly, they saw an officer
rush up to their chum, seize the cigarette from his lips and dash it on
the planks and crush it under his foot.
"Can't you read, you idiot?" fumed the officer. "Look there!"
With his club he pointed to a sign which read, "No smoking." All over
the levee there were signs to that effect. No matter which way a fellow
turned the curt order, "No smoking," stared him in the face.
"Aw, forget it!" said Matt, with a curt disregard for legal authority
that came to Dick and Carl like a slap in the face. "You're a copper,
all right, but you can't get gay with me."
This insolence astounded the officer. Likewise it served to arouse his
temper.
"I'll get gay with you, all right, my festive kiskedee," he snapped.
"That cigarette of yours set fire to that bale, an' you'll just
consider yourself pinched."
The officer's hand dropped on Matt's shoulder.
"You will pinch me, eh?" answered Matt. "Well, you've got another guess
coming!"
With that his languid air vanished in a twinkling and he became imbued
with the fiercest kind of energy. With a swift leap he wrenched himself
free of the policeman's detaining hand. The policeman, with an angry
shout, jumped at him, swinging his club. Matt's foot went out and the
policeman was neatly tripped and measured his length on the planks.
This was energy of the kind Motor Matt could display, upon occasion,
but he had never been known to direct it against an officer of the law.
Nor was Motor Matt insolent--he had other ways for meeting injustice.
Astonishment at the swift progress of events and the unheard-of actions
of their chum held Carl and Dick stunned in their tracks.
"He iss grazy!" averred Carl, with a gasp. "Modor Matt has gone off der
chump! He iss pughouse, yah, so helup me!"
"He's all ahoo in his top hammer and no mistake!" agreed Dick. "But
we've got to help him, Carl. We can't stand off and on while Matt's in
trouble. Avast there!" he yelled, running toward the exciting scene.
"Hold back a minute, officer! Sheer off, and keep those men back!"
The policeman had scrambled to his feet, and stevedores and bystanders
were all making a concerted rush in Matt's direction.
"Yah, yah," taunted Matt defiantly. "I'm ready for anything from a
fight to a foot race."
He was lightning-like in his movements now. Pulling over a barrel that
stood on end, he rolled it into the midst of his pursuers. Half a dozen
of them went down in a tangled heap and so interfered with the others
that pursuit was, for a moment, checked.
Matt made the most of this period of grace and ducked away toward Canal
Street. There were two or three carriages at the edge of the wharf, and
by the open door of one of them a man was standing.
"This way, King!" the man shouted, beckoning.
Carl and Dick saw the fugitive swerve in the direction of the carriage.
Another moment and he and the man were inside, the door slammed, and
the darky on the box whipped away. In less time than it takes to tell
it, the carriage was lost in a crowd of vehicles, while Dick and Carl
were gasping on the levee, staring blankly into each other's eyes.