A HARD STARTER.
Hunting four thieves as shrewd as were Jurgens, Whistler, Bangs, and
the young fellow who had helped them, looked like a tremendous order
to Motor Matt. And recovering the diamonds made the prospect seem even
more discouraging.
Matt, however, was on his mettle. He had given his promise, perhaps
rashly, to Townsend, and Townsend, as well as every one else, knew that
Motor Matt's word was as good as his bond.
_He had promised to recover the diamonds!_
Townsend's mention of the Obeah woman had had not a little to do with
the promise.
The woman's name was Yamousa, and she lived in a hut near a bayou of
the same name. Matt knew the place well, for he and his chums had
stopped there, a few days before, had been of some service to Yamousa,
and had been repaid by her in a way that had caused, and was still
causing, them any amount of wonder.
The voodoo priestess apparently possessed powers of divination that
were inexplicable. Her arts may have been wholly trickery, but, if so,
a wonderful chain of coincidences had lent a cast of truth to her magic.
Matt had no belief in the supernatural, and his common sense was
constantly struggling against the results of Yamousa's occult powers,
as he and his friends had witnessed them. As a last resort, it might be
possible to consult Yamousa with some show of success in this matter of
the stolen gems.
This, at least, was what Matt had in mind when he left Townsend. The
authorities, knowing the ins and outs of the Crescent City so well,
could do infinitely more in the town than could Matt and his friends.
Without loss of time, Matt returned to the small hotel near Stuyvesant
Dock, where he, Dick, and Carl had taken up their quarters. Dick and
Carl were in their room, dressed and waiting to hear what Matt had to
say.
Quickly as he could, the young motorist set forth the amazing events of
the night. The sailor and the Dutch boy were greatly wrought up.
"Carl and I are loaded to the marks with all the blame," scowled Dick.
"Ve made some popples," wailed Carl, "und dey vas vat dit der pitzness."
"What's the use of doubles, anyhow?" went on Dick.
"Vyefer do two people look so mooch alike in dis vorlt?" added Carl. "I
vonder oof I haf a touple? Oof I haf, he must be a bicture, aber I hope
he don'd shove indo anyt'ing vat habbens mit me."
"You boys made only a natural mistake," said Matt. "That levee
policeman was fooled, Cassidy was deceived, and so was Townsend. How
can you blame yourselves when every one else took this double of mine
just as you did?"
"You've got a way, mate," observed Dick gratefully, "of tacking
about and trimming your sails to any breeze that blows in order to
make things easier for your friends; but Carl and I know that we're
responsible for the whole blessed business."
"Well, if you're bound to have it so, let it go at that. I've promised
Townsend to hunt the thieves until I recover the diamonds. That means
the work of our lives, for it's a promise I intend to live up to."
"Py shinks," cried Carl, "you can gount on me to do all vat I can to
helup."
"Aye, old ship," said Dick, "and me. Just show us where to begin and
we'll tear into the work like a couple of navvies. It's the best we can
do to square ourselves."
"Led us dry und be as jeerful as ve can," suggested Carl. "Dot iss
pedder dan to be gloomed oop so mooch, hey?"
"You've raised the point that bothers me, Dick," said Matt, "and that
is, where to begin. The police are already at work in New Orleans,
but I haven't any idea that they'll be successful. We're dealing with
clever men, and mustn't forget that for a minute. Ever since the
diamonds were found, Jurgens and Whistler seem to have been watching
Townsend. They had a spy across the street keeping an eye on the house
where he is lying ill."
"Townsend missed it by not having that outfit jugged when he was able.
If every man jack of them had been sent to the brig, we wouldn't be up
against this proposition now."
"No use crying over spilt milk," returned Matt. "Townsend realizes that
he failed to do what he should have done, and it's that that worries
him now. We'll take things as we find them and forge ahead. There's
one point we can look up, although it isn't very promising."
"Name it, mate."
"My double was taken from the levee in a carriage. It may have been one
of Jurgens' gang who helped him out of his trouble."
"The fellow didn't look like any of the gang."
"There may be some new members we don't know anything about. If we can
find the man who drove the carriage, we could discover where he took
that young fellow."
"What good would that do? Jurgens and his outfit wouldn't come back to
that place. I'll lay a sov the lot of them tripped anchor and bore away
the minute the stones came into their hands."
"That's my idea, Dick. I told you the clue wasn't very promising, but
it appears to be the only one we have. Townsend, however, suggested
something which had also occurred to me."
"Vat it iss?" queried Carl. "I don'd vas mooch oof a handt to dig oop
clues, aber I bed you I can tell a goot clue ven I come face to face
mit it. Shpeak it oudt, Matt."
"Why not bear away in the air ship to Bayou Yamousa?"
Carl began to shiver.
"Nod dere! Ach, py shinks, don'd have somet'ing to do mit dot olt
shpook laty again."
Carl's superstitious fears did not weigh very heavily with Matt and
Dick. The latter slapped his hands.
"First chop!" he cried. "It's the last shot in the locker, and who
knows but that it may be just the thing for us to do? I'm for beginning
the trip to Bayou Yamousa now. It's a still night, mates, and we could
get the _Hawk_ off the dock without any trouble. She's ripe and ready
for the flight of her life!"
"It's a still night, that's true, Dick," answered Matt, "but you forget
that we have got to have daylight for finding the bayou. We can't
locate it in the dark."
"But we're losing time," grumbled Dick, "and we haven't any to throw at
the birds."
"The more haste, the less speed," counseled Matt. "Better to go slow
and be sure of what we're doing, Dick, than to run wild and get tangled
up in our bearings. We'd probably lose more time in the end if we did
that."
"But Jurgens and his gang are getting farther and farther away all the
time."
"They'll go into hiding somewhere, if I'm any prophet, until the affair
blows over a little. If Yamousa can tell us where they are----"
"Don'd try dot," put in Carl earnestly. "She vill vork a hogus-pogus
und meppy ged all oof us indo drouple."
"We're going to pay Yamousa a visit, Carl," said Matt firmly. "There's
nothing else we can do. The police will be able to handle this end of
the work much better than we could. Go to bed, both of you. I'm going
over to police headquarters and tell the chief about the carriage that
took the man and the young fellow away from the levee. As soon as I do
that, I'll come back and pull covers myself. In the morning we'll have
breakfast, and then we'll make a start for the bayou."
As usual, Matt's ideas prevailed. Dick and Carl went to bed, Matt had a
talk with the city authorities and gave as much further information as
he thought would help them, and then returned to the hotel and turned
in.
By seven in the morning they were up and eating their breakfast.
Breakfast over, Matt sent Carl to the post office for any mail that
might be there--he was constantly receiving letters from various parts
of the country relative to the _Hawk_--and he and Dick started for
Stuyvesant Dock to make ready for the flight south and east.
On the way to the dock, Matt bought a morning paper. There was a brief
and garbled account of the robbery, but it had little interest for the
boys, although they had bought the paper in order to see what it had to
say about the diamonds.
But there was a paragraph of overwhelming interest to the lads tucked
away in one corner of the first page. Matt's eye caught the paragraph
casually, then he gasped and his consternation grew, as he read:
"NOTED VOODOO WOMAN DEAD.
"From Chef Menteur, in the Parish of Orleans, comes news of the death
of a famous character in those parts known as Yamousa, priestess
of the voodoos. Years ago she lived in New Orleans, numbering her
followers by hundreds, but was driven away by the police and found
refuge on Bayou Yamousa. Those with any faith in the black arts
credited the aged negress with being an adept in her particular line,
but others with more common sense and less superstition considered
her a grafter of remarkable ability. Her death, it is supposed, was
the result of natural causes."
Here was a blow, and no mistake. Matt, greatly dejected, read the
paragraph to Dick.
"Keelhaul me!" exclaimed Dick. "We're up in the air now for fair. Your
luck seems to have taken a turn for the worse, Matt. What are we going
to do? The last prop has been knocked out from under us."
The boys reached the dock and seated themselves moodily on a cotton
bale not far from the _Hawk_.
Matt had not the remotest idea what they were to do. Yamousa had been
their last hope, and a strange fatality had suddenly snatched it away
from them.
"The outlook is getting more and more dubious," said Matt. "Yamousa
might not have been able to help us, but there was a chance that she
could. Now the chance, slim enough at best, is gone. It's a lucky
thing, though, that I bought the paper and found that notice. If I
hadn't, we might have been wasting time, off in the southeast. If----"
"Ledders! ledders. Dree oof dem!"
Carl, at that moment, came ambling across the dock, dodging the boxes
and bales and hurrying toward Matt and Dick. As he approached he held
up the three letters he had secured at the post office.
They were all for Motor Matt, two of them having been forwarded from
Atlantic City. One was from an amusement manager in Chicago, offering
a fancy figure to the boys to take the _Hawk_ to the great lakes for
exhibition purposes; another was from an enthusiastic member of the
Aëro Club of America asking the boys their price for the air ship; but
the third letter--that was the one that caused them to sit up and take
notice. It ran as follows:
"From what I've heard of you, you're a one-two-seven boy and all
to the good. How'd you like to get your lunch hooks on that bag of
sparks? You can pull it off, if you get busy, and the undersigned
will help. All you need is nerve and ginger. I can furnish my share.
You've got an air ship. Well, hit the clouds and fly to me. I'll put
you wise. Meet me at Bayou Yamousa, wherever that is, and come in
a hurry. I'm going there now and I've got the start of you by some
hours. This is a hot starter, and no 'con.'
"A DUB WHO OUGHT TO HAVE KNOWN BETTER."