FACING THE MUSIC.
The automobile repair shop which Matt had started for was in Sherman
Avenue, not far from the park that skirted the shore of Fourth Lake.
He did not make for the shop at once, however, but kept out of sight
until Ollie Merton had passed with the big, seven-passenger car loaded
to the limit. As soon as the car had vanished Matt went into the shop.
He was not long in transacting his business there. Before beginning he
placed the proprietor under seal of secrecy. The second-hand motor was
secured at a bargain, Matt paying spot cash for it. The engine was to
be loaded aboard a launch and taken across the lake, in the afternoon,
to the boathouse by Picnic Point.
With the engine was to come a young machinist, a son of the proprietor
of the shop, who was to be well paid for his services, and who promised
to use his hands and eyes and not his tongue.
Matt's final request was that the engine, when carried down to the
landing and while aboard the launch, should be covered with canvas.
This was to prevent curious eyes from securing information which might
be carried to some of the Winnequas, and so to Merton.
From the machine shop Matt rushed on into town for the purpose of
sending a message. The telegram was to a supply house in Milwaukee and
requested immediate shipment of a new propeller. The sudden change in
plans for the _Sprite_ made quick work necessary.
It was long after noon when Matt got back to the boathouse, where Lorry
and McGlory were impatiently awaiting him.
"You were longer than we thought you'd be," remarked Lorry, a look of
relief crossing his face as Matt trundled the motor cycle through the
open door.
"Did you get what you wanted, pard?" inquired McGlory.
"Yes," laughed Matt, leaning the wheel against the wall, "and a little
more than I was expecting. I was stopped by Merton and seven of his
friends, just this side of the asylum and----"
"By Merton!" cried Lorry.
"Sufferin' brain-twisters!" exclaimed the cowboy. "How could that be?
Why, pard, I left Merton on Third Lake, in the _Dart_."
"Merton must have come ashore, Joe, pretty soon after you left. He
picked up seven of his friends somewhere and started around Fourth
Lake to have a talk with me at the boathouse. They saw me coming down
the hill from the point, stopped the automobile around a bend, tied
handkerchiefs over their faces and stopped me with a fence rail. Before
I fairly realized what was going on, the eight of them had me off the
wheel and into the timber."
"What an outrage!" growled Lorry. "You're getting more than your share
of rough work, Matt, seems to me. What did those fellows want?"
Matt pulled out a lunch box of generous size, opened it on the
workbench and invited his two companions to help themselves.
"I went into town to send a telegram for a new propeller," he observed,
"but I didn't even take time to stop at a restaurant for a meal."
"No matter what happens," said Lorry admiringly, "you never forget
anything. But go on and tell us what Merton and those other chaps
stopped you for."
"They were trying to run in a rhinecaboo of some sort. I'll be bound,"
averred McGlory.
"The plain truth of the matter is, fellows," declared Matt, "Merton and
his crowd are scared. They offered me two hundred dollars to leave
town at once and never come back."
"Tell me about that!" chuckled the cowboy. "Scared? You bet they are!
Motor Matt has put a crimp in the confidence they had about the outcome
of the race."
"And that leads me to believe," went on Matt, "that, in spite of the
fact that Merton has that roll of drawings and knows what we were doing
to the _Sprite_, he's still afraid of us. The _Dart_ can't be such a
phenomenally fast boat as you imagined, Joe. If it was, why should
Merton fear the _Sprite_? He's judging her, you understand, according
to our first plans for changing her. He doesn't know a thing about the
automobile engine and the other propeller we're going to install."
"Listen, once," said McGlory; "it's not the plans that's making Merton
sidestep, but Motor Matt. He and his bunch will feel a heap easier if
they can know the king of the motor boys is cut out of Lorry's herd."
"Another thing," continued Matt. "Merton and his friends are doing some
betting on the race."
"I've heard about that," put in Lorry. "Merton is plunging with his
father's bankroll, and going the limit. His friends are in the pool
with him, and they're offering all sorts of fancy odds."
"If I could rake together a stake," said McGlory, "I'd take a little of
that Winnequa money myself."
"No, you wouldn't, Joe," returned Matt. "I'm out with a club for that
sort of thing. Good, clean sport is all right, but when you tangle it
up with a lot of bookmakers it goes to the dogs."
"Mebby you're right, pard," grinned Joe, "but any kind of a chance,
with money in sight, is excitin'."
"Merton and the rest wanted me, if I wouldn't agree to pull out, to
throw the race."
"The scoundrels!" cried Lorry.
"They didn't know our pard very well, George," observed the cowboy.
"What did they say when you turned 'em down, Matt?"
"Ordered me to quit. Said if I didn't the lot of us, over here, would
have to face all kinds of music."
"I always did like music," said the cowboy. "Right this minute I'm
feelin' like a brass band and I've got to toot."
McGlory's "toot" was more like a steam calliope than a brass band, and
it was so hilarious that Ping, who was still acting as outside guard,
pushed his yellow face in at the window over the workbench.
"Who makee low?" he inquired.
"There's no row, you heathen," answered the cowboy, tossing him a
sandwich. "There, take that and stop your face. I'm jubilatin', that's
all."
Ping disappeared with a grin and the sandwich.
"What are you jubilating about, Joe?" inquired Lorry.
"Don't you savvy, George? Why, Motor Matt's on his mettle! All that
talk that Merton and his pards gave him just cinched him up for the
'go' of his life. You'll see things at that race. As for facing the
music--there's nothing to it. Why, the _Sprite's_ as good as passed the
stake boat and over the finish line right now."
There was little doubt but that McGlory's jovial mood and confident
forecast of coming events heartened Lorry wonderfully.
Matt went more into the details of his experience with Merton and his
friends.
"That's a nice way for the commodore of a rival boat club to act,"
remarked Lorry sarcastically.
"How did Merton ever get to be commodore?" said McGlory. "That's what
sticks in my crop."
"Money," was Lorry's brief but significant response.
"Money cuts a pretty wide swath, and that's a fact. That work of
Merton's and his friends, though, was a pretty raw blazer. Wonder what
Merton's thinking of himself, now that Matt's found out he was in the
gang?"
"It won't bother him much," said Lorry. "Between you and me and the
gatepost, I'll bet Merton has been flying too high. When his father
gets back from Europe and finds out what's been going on, there'll be
doings. Like enough, Merton is plunging on the boat race in the hope of
getting back some of the money he has squandered. That would ease the
tension somewhat when he makes an accounting to his father."
"Too bad if he's got himself into money difficulties," observed Matt.
"A little money has made many a good fellow go wrong, Matt," returned
Lorry, with a flush.
George was talking from experience, and it was an experience which he
would never forget.
"There's nothing to do, I reckon," said McGlory, changing the subject,
"but to plug right along and hustle the changes in the _Sprite_."
"That's all, Joe," responded Matt. "We'll have to do some quick work,
and do it well. The engine will be delivered this afternoon, and a
young fellow is coming along with it to help me. We'll have to do more
or less traveling between here and the machine shop, and I suppose it
would be well if we had a boat. Going around the lake takes too long."
"I'll get a motor boat for you, Matt," said Lorry. "I'll bring her over
before night."
"Bring a supply of gasoline and oil, too, Lorry."
"It will all come with the boat. If you can think of anything else
you want, just let me know. Some one ought to stay here all the time,
don't you think? The _Sprite_ ought to be watched every minute, night
and day. It was no empty threat Merton made when he said he'd make us
trouble."
"He and his friends," said Matt gravely, "will do what they can to
bother us. But I don't think they'll dare go too far. Joe and I and
Ping will stay at the boathouse all the time. That will make quite a
respectable force. Then, too, the machinist will be with us during the
day. Whenever I have to cross the lake to the shop, he and Joe can look
after things here."
"I want to do my share, you know," protested Lorry; "I can't let you
fellows do it all."
"You'll have plenty to do, George," laughed Matt. "There's a telephone
at the asylum, and we can always get word to you if it's necessary. As
for----"
Matt was interrupted by a shrill yell. It came from outside the
boathouse and had plainly been raised by Ping. On the instant, all
three of the boys jumped for the door.