THE MANDARIN WINS.
"Listen, honorable friends," said Tsan Ti, "while I talk to you
instructively. In the words of the great Confucius, 'the cautious man
seldom errs.' When I departed from you, amiable ones, on recovering the
Eye of Buddha, I said that I was returning to my country by way of San
Francisco. Such was my intention, of the moment, but further reflection
dissuaded me. I decided to go to New York and proceed to China by the
longer, but perhaps the safer, way.
"In the great city I discovered that I was being pursued and spied
upon, and a great fear overcame me. Immediately I thought of Motor
Matt. Should I visit him with possible dangers, I besought of myself,
in order that I might preserve the precious relic from the temple at
Honam? I thought of your bravery, never sufficiently to be praised, and
I decided to make the risk. The cutter of precious stones was sent for,
and I showed my ruby and asked that he make a counterfeit of it that
would deceive any but a dealer in jewels. This was done, and quickly. I
sent this comparatively valueless replica to you, Motor Matt, and told
Charley Foo to let Grattan's man know what I had done. Also, the man
was to be informed of my desire that Motor Matt should carry the stone
about with him continually.
"What would happen? I inquired of myself. Most certainly, reflection
made answer. Grattan will be upon the brave youth's track, and he will
never rest until he secures the gem. This is as I desired, although I
dared not so express myself in my letter which accompanied the false
gem.
"After the package had left me, my heart failed. I feared I had exposed
you to dangers which might cause your undoing. Hence, without lingering
further, Sam Wing and I took this train for Catskill, I being of the
intention to tell you what I had planned, and to let it be known,
through Charley Foo, that the real gem was in my hands and not yours.
"And see, I have come too late. Grattan, the wise and unscrupulous,
has taken the counterfeit ruby and is pleased to think he has cheated
me, and that I shall pass by means of the yellow cord. All is well,
and my plans are maturing most successfully. The five hundred gods of
good fortune are smiling upon me. While Grattan goes his course, firmly
believing he has the Eye of Buddha, I travel mine, knowing he has been
justly deceived."
There was a little resentment in Matt's heart as he listened to the
mandarin's explanation of his crafty ways and means for circumventing
Grattan. Tsan Ti had thrown upon Matt the weight of the whole
proceeding, and had not taken means to inform him of the true state of
affairs. The king of the motor boys, had he understood the nature of
the mandarin's scheme, could have worked out his part of it even more
successfully than he had done while being kept in ignorance.
"You're a keen one, Tsan," grunted McGlory, "but I'm a Piute if I
admire the free-and-easy fashion you have of making dupes of your
friends."
"It is that which has pained me," admitted the mandarin, "and it is my
regret which was carrying me speedily to Catskill to tell my widely
known friend the exact truth. Fate was quicker in the race than I.
Events have come swiftly to pass, and out of them rises Grattan with
the false ruby. I have been fortunate, and while he goes to parts
unknown, I shall hope to reach China before he discovers his error."
"Queer that Grattan, who knows the great ruby so well," said Matt,
"could be fooled with a piece of glass of the same shape and size."
"And likewise of the exact color," returned Tsan Ti. "The color was
most important of all. That Grattan was fooled shows how admirably the
cutter of precious stones has done his work."
"You're really going to China this time, are you, Tsan Ti?"
"Of a certainty," declared the mandarin. "Now that you have been met
most wonderfully on this train, I shall not get off at Catskill, but
will accompany the cars to Buffalo. From there, without delay, I shall
go on to Chicago, from there to Denver, and so to San Francisco, where
I will embark on the first ship that will carry me across the Pacific."
Tsan Ti leaned over in front of Matt and called out something in
Chinese to Sam Wing. Sam Wing lifted his nodding head with a start,
and from his blouse produced a small sack of alligator skin, which he
handed to his master.
The sack was stuffed with banknotes, and from the lot the mandarin
extracted three five-hundred-dollar bills.
"Will you consider it of an insulting nature if I offer you these?"
inquired the mandarin of Matt.
"I won't, if he does," chimed in McGlory.
"I think I'm entitled to the money, Tsan Ti," said Matt. "The way you
Chinamen do business doesn't make much of a hit with me. Your little
plot wouldn't have been hurt in the least if you had just mentioned in
the letter you sent with that supposed ruby that the gem was false, and
that you sent it to me hoping Grattan would get it and keep off your
trail. I could have helped you even more in achieving your purpose."
"It is to be regretted deeply that I did not," answered the mandarin
humbly. "In my own country I would not have given two thoughts to the
troubles I caused another, so long as my aim was just and wise; but
here, in America, different standards rule, and that I brought dangers
upon your head I shall never forget."
The door of the coach opened and a brakeman thrust in his head to call
out the station of Catskill.
"That means us, pard," said McGlory. "Grab your money and let's hike."
Matt took the money and slowly placed it in his pocket.
"You bear no ill will, worthy one, and friend whose memory will always
blossom in the gardens of my recollections?" asked Tsan Ti.
"It's all right, Tsan Ti," returned Matt, getting up. "You win, and
are off for the Flowery Kingdom with the Eye of Buddha. Grattan loses,
and he'll find it out sooner or later. As for Joe and me, we'll call
accounts square. Good-by, and good luck to you." He took the mandarin's
hand cordially.
"May the five hundred gods of good luck smile continually upon you,"
said Tsan Ti.
With that, Motor Matt and McGlory left the coach and dropped off the
train.
"Back in Catskill!" said the cowboy, "and after being fooled by Bunce,
and Grattan, and Tsan Ti!"
"We've fooled Grattan twice where he has fooled us once, Joe," returned
Matt.
"Right you are, pard; and there's plenty of chance for Tsan Ti to run
into a snag between here and China."
"I'm hoping he makes the trip without any trouble."
"I don't know but I hope the same thing, although I get a trifle hot
under the collar every time I think of the way we fretted over a piece
of colored glass."
They stood on the platform until the tail lights of the train had
vanished from sight up the track.
"The mandarin is getting a good start on the home trail, anyhow,"
remarked McGlory, as he and Matt turned away to climb the slope that
led to their hotel. "He's bound west by train, while Grattan is fooling
around, somewhere on the Hudson, with the _Iris_. I wouldn't turn over
my hand, after what Tsan Ti told us, to put the kibosh on Grattan, or
even Bunce."
"Grattan and Bunce have got their deserts," asserted Matt. "They'll be
punished enough when they discover that they've had all their trouble
and taken so many chances for nothing more than a bogus ruby."
"Fine business," chuckled McGlory; "and yet," he added, with a
perceptible change in his voice, "there's something about that Philo
Grattan that makes a hit with me. Maybe I've got a yellow streak in
my make-up, somewhere, and that it's wrong for me to own up to such a
notion, but it's the truth."
"If Grattan was honest," said Matt, "he'd be a fellow any one could
like. But his ideas are all wrong. He can't see where the harm comes in
removing a valuable ruby from an idol in a heathen temple, but if he'd
step into Tiffany's, in New York, and extract a gem like that from the
show case and make off with it, his crime wouldn't be any the less."
"A heathen has got property rights," agreed the cowboy, "just the same
as you or me--or Grattan, himself. Where do you suppose Grattan, and
that choice assortment of tinhorns he has with him on the _Iris_, are
going?"
"I don't know, pard, and what happens to them now doesn't bother me
much. We're rid of them all, and I'm thankful for it. We've had too
much of Tsan Ti, as well as of Grattan and Bunce."
"That's what you say now, but just let the mandarin write you one of
those embroidered letters of his, asking for help, and you'll head in
his direction just a-smoking."
"Not again, Joe. I know what the Yellow Peril is, now, and I'm going to
fight shy of it."
"Amen to that, pard, and I hope you stick to it."
"I will."
"And there's nothing more between us and a high old time in Manhattan?"
"Nothing but a stretch of river--or of railroad track, Joe, if you'd
rather go by train."
"Hooray!" jubilated McGlory.
THE END.
THE NEXT NUMBER (32) WILL CONTAIN
Motor Matt's Double-trouble;
OR,
THE LAST OF THE HOODOO.
The Red Jewel--Another End of the Yarn--Shock Number
One--Shocks Two and Three--A Hot Starter--McGlory is Lost, and
Found--"Pocketed"--Springing a Coup--Motor Matt's Chase--The Chase
Concluded--A Double Capture--Another Surprise--Baiting a Trap--How
the Trap was Sprung--Back to the Farm--Conclusion.
MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION
NEW YORK, September 25, 1909.
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JERRY STEBBINS' HOSS TRADE.
At a recent interview with one Jeremiah Stebbins, he freed his mind in
the following choice language:
"Everybody I've saw lately has ben a-winking and a-smirking, and
a-laughing, and a-saying, 'How de dew, Jerry? how's the hoss trade?'
and sich like, and I've got tired on't; and I'm a going to tell the
hull story to you newspaper fellers, and let you print it and done with
it.
"You see, the way on't was this. I live up in Bucks County,
Pennsylvania, and once in a while I takes a trip down to Philadelphia
to see the sights, do some dickering, buy some store things, and so on.
"I've al'ays considered myself pooty cute, and have gi'n lots o' advice
to them that's around me, telling 'em about the city, and its big
shows, and its cheating scamps, and what to do when they goes there,
and how not to get took in, and all sich; and I 'spect it's jest
because I've done all this ere that the laugh comes in agin me pooty
rough-like.
"You see there's a feller living right nigh me, named Jim Smithers,
who's been down to Philadelphia four times, and every time so'thing's
happened to him in the way o' getting fooled by some o' them confounded
scamps what don't 'pear to do nothing for a living but lay around, like
nasty spiders, watching for flies, to ketch some o' us country chaps
by some dirty trick or other, and git hold o' some o' our hard-earned
dollars to loaf around on. I ain't afeared to speak my mind about 'em,
and I don't keer a goll darn if you print it, nuther, and let 'em know
that I think they're just about as mean as mean kin be.
"Waal, about Jim Smithers. He's pooty green yit; but the first time he
went down to the big city he was as raw as a new cabbage, and he got
took in fifteen dollars' worth on what you newspaper fellers calls the
drap game.
"In course you know all about that ere. A feller comes up behind the
country chap, and, all unbeknown to him, drops a pocketbook, picks it
up, and tells him it's hisn. But it ain't, you know, and the country
feller says so. Then the city scamp opens it a lettle, and it 'pears to
be stuffed full o' bank bills; and he says it's a pity that some honest
man has got to lose it, 'cause he hisself's a stranger in town, and
is jest a-going out ag'in, and he can't stop to advertise it, and git
the big reward that's sartin to be offered for it; but if the country
feller's a mind to take it, give him fifteen or twenty dollars or so,
he'll let him have his chance, and so on.
"Waal, Jim Smithers was ketched in this way, and he gin the other
feller fifteen dollars--nigh all the money he had--and when he went to
put so'thing into the _Public Ledger_ about it, and handed over one o'
the bills to pay for 't, the grinning clerk told him as how he'd ben
'sold,' and the money wa'n't wo'th as much as white paper. Wa'n't Jim
mad, then? and didn't us fellers plague him peskily about it arter he
got home?
"Waal, the next time Jim went to the city he got ketched in some keerd
trick, and lost a twenty-dollar bill afore he knowed it. The third time
he spent five dollars, a-buying prize packages that didn't have no
prizes in 'em 'cept brass rings; and the last time some scamp ketched
him ag'in on a hoss affair.
"'Jim Smithers,' says I, arter he'd told me all about it, 'if I's you I
wouldn't go down to Philadelphia ag'in alone--I swon I wouldn't. Jest
as like as not some critter, a-running loose in the streets, will take
you fer a green pumpkin, and eat you all right up, so's you won't never
git back to your mar any more,' says I.
"'Oh, you think your darn smart, Jerry Stebbins, don't ye?' says Jim
back ag'in. 'Jest you look out that you don't git ketched some day your
own self.'
"'They've all tried me, and found me too smart for 'em,' says I.
"'We'll see in the end,' says Jim.
"'Bout a week or so arter that, I went down ag'in to Philadelphia.
I had some arrants to do for some o' my neighbors; and I'd a notion
to tend a auction sale of hosses, and if I could see any going right
cheap, I thought mebbe I might buy one on a spec--for, though I says
it myself, I'm pooty cute in a hoss trade, and have made a good many
dollars afore now in fatting up some old critter and then swapping him
off and gitting boot.
"Waal, I went to town, and, arter gitting through with my other
business, I started right over to the bazaar, where they sells
hosses--for I'd been there afore and knowed exactly where it was.
"Jest as I was a-going in, I met a dressy-looking chap a-coming out;
and he says to me, says he:
"'Mister, kin you tell me where I kin buy a right good hoss pooty
cheap?'
"'I couldn't, less it's in here,' says I 'for that's jest what I wants
to do myself.'
"'Waal, I shan't buy in this here cheating place,' says he, 'for I
done that once afore, and paid a hundred dollars for a critter that I
arterward had to sell for thirty-five; and right glad I was to git that
much, and only lose sixty-five on the trade. If I's you I wouldn't risk
no money in here.'
"'I knows a hoss when I sees him,' says I, pooty proud, feeling my
oats, 'and if anybody makes anything off o' Jerry Stebbins in a hoss
trade, I hope they'll let me know.'
"'S'pose you could pick out a good nice critter for me, Mr. Stebbins,
and not get cheated in the price?' says he.
"'I s'pose I could if I'd try,' says I.
"'And would five dollars make you try?' says he.
"'I guess it would,' says I.
"'Wal, then,' says he, 'I'll give you a five-dollar bill to do it,'
says he.
"He rammed his hand into his pocket to git the money; but afore he'd
drawed it out, a slick-looking feller comes riding up on hossback, and
says to my chap, says he:
"'Do you know anybody what wants to buy a right good hoss dirt cheap?'
"'I dew,' says my man.
"'How high be you willing to go?' says the hossback chap.
"'I don't keer a darn, so's the critter's wo'th the money,' says
t'other, and he gin me a sly wink.
"'Then I'll take you to a place where I know you'll be suited,' says
the hossback chap.
"'Fur from here?' axes t'other.
"'Not more'n a mile at the outside,' says him on the hoss.
"'Will you jest go along, 'arn the five, and see that I ain't
cheated?' says the foot feller to me, in a tone so low that t'other
couldn't hear.
"I said I would; and then my man axed the man on the hoss for his
keerd, which he gin him and rid away.
"While we was a-going to the place, my feller told me that his name was
John Jenkins; that he'd got as much money as he keerd about having, and
if he could only git a hoss to suit him, and not pay more for't than
'twas wo'th, he'd be mighty pleased.
"''Tain't 'cause I ker a darn for the money, Mr. Stebbins,' says he
to me, confiding-like; 'but it's 'cause I knows as how all these
racehoss-jockey fellers takes a pride in gitting the best of everybody
they deals with, and I hates to be beat in that are way. Now I sees by
your eyes, Mr. Stebbins, that you ain't a chap to be took in in a hoss
trade, and I wants you to use 'em for me; and if things comes out all
right, I won't stop to put another ten or twenty a-top of the five, you
know.'
"'I'll do my best, Mr. Jenkins,' says I; 'and I guess you'll find my
best right up to the handle.'
"When we got to the place we seen a stable, in a little, back, dirty
street, and in it was two men and three hosses.
"Two of these 'ere hosses wan't o' no great account, but t'other one
was a pooty slick smart-looking critter.
"'How much for this 'ere one?' says Mr. Jenkins, putting his hand onto
the beast.
"Waal, really,' says the dealer, 'we don't keer about selling that are
critter.'
"'I was recommended to come here for a place where I could buy a good
hoss cheap,' says Mr. Jenkins.
"'We really hain't got nothing to sell 'cept the other two critters,'
says the jockey. 'We'll sell you them cheap.'
"'I don't want 'em,' says Jenkins, 'but only this 'ere one. Hey,
Stebbins! what d'you say?' he says, speaking to me.
"'Waal, the critter you've picked out is pooty likely,' says I, 'but I
don't think much of t'others.'
"He called me out one side, and axed me what the best hoss was really
wo'th.
"'A good hundred and twenty-five,' says I.
"'How about a hundred and fifty?' says he.
"'I wouldn't go a mite over a hundred and forty,' says I.
"'I'll have him, though, at some price, for I've sot my mind on't,'
says he, in a determined way.
"Then he went back to the jockey, and offered him a hundred dollars for
that critter.
"The jockey chap laughed right in his face at fust, and then he 'peared
to get mad, and said, says he:
"'You're either a dealer yourself, or else you wants to insult me; and
no matter which it are, I ain't a-going to trade with you at no price.'
"'I'll give you a hundred and twenty-five,' says Jenkins.
"'Pshaw!' says jockey.
"'A hundred and fifty,' says Jenkins.
"'No,' says t'other.
"'A hundred and seventy-five, then.'
"'No.'
"'I'll give you two hundred.'
"'You can't buy him at no price,' says the hoss dealer, looking awful
mad.
"'Then let us go to a more decenter place, Mr. Stebbins,' says Jenkins
to me.
"We started off together, and as soon as we'd got out of sight of the
stable, Jenkins says to me, says he:
"'Friend Stebbins, I wants that are hoss right bad, 'cause he's jest
the critter to suit me. I wonder if you couldn't buy him for me?'
"'I don't 'spect I could,' says I, 'for the feller that owns him has
got his Dutch up, and won't sell him to neither of us.'
"'Would you mind going back by yourself and trying?' says he.
"'To obleege you I'll dew it,' says I. 'But the hoss ain't wo'th what
you offered, and nothink like it.'
"'I don't keer for that, Mr. Stebbins,' says he; 'it a'nt making a
spec' I'm arter; I wants the hoss for hisself, 'cause I've sot my mind
on't, and money ain't no object with me. I'll tell ye what I'll dew. If
you'll buy that are hoss and fetch him round to my stable, I'll jest
plank down two hundred and fifty dollars cash for him, and you may make
what profit you kin. I don't keer what you give for him, but I'll give
you two hundred and fifty dollars jest the minute he reaches my stable,
and I'll go right down there now and wait for you.'
"I told him I'd try my luck, and he writ down the direction for me to
come to.
"Waal, I went back and found the two hoss fellers talking with the chap
that had fust told us about the place.
"The minute this chap seen me, he come for'ard and said he was right
down sorry that his pardners had got mad at my friend--and if he'd been
there it wouldn't have turned out so--though it was a insult for him
to offer only a hundred dollars for a hoss like that are, which nobody
could find his match nowhere for a cent less than three hundred dollars
in gold.
"'Tell you what 'tis, mister,' he says, 'I know your friend, John
Jenkins--though he don't recollect me--and I know he's mighty rich, and
a right down good customer where he likes to deal, and I hate like fury
that he went away disapp'inted. Now if you'll find him, and fetch him
back, and git him to trade with us, I'll give you a five-dollar bill.'
"I thought I'd got a good chance for a spec, so I says, says I:
"'I don't think I could git him back; but if you folks here wants to
sell that are hoss, and will take what he's wo'th, I don't mind buying
him for my own self.'
"'You kin have him for two hundred and twenty-five dollars, and not a
cent short,' says he.
"'That's more'n I'd give my old daddy for him,' says I.
"Then we began to talk, and palaver, and hile, and at last I got him
down to two hundred and ten, and him to give in a old saddle and
bridle, so's I could ride him off.
"Waal, I paid down the money, and then rode off for Jenkins' stable
feeling pooty proud and happy that I'd made a clean forty dollars by my
barg'in.
"But, somehow or other, I couldn't find Jenkins' stable, nor Jenkins
nuther, and I hain't found 'em since.
"To git right down to the gist on't, I'd been awfully fooled, and
tricked into paying two hundred and ten dollars for a hoss that I
didn't want myself, and that I's glad to git rid on, arterwards for one
hundred and five, jest one-half the critter cost me.
"Waal, mister, that's the story that all the folks round my way is
a-grinning and a-snickering over, and I s'pose I've got to grin and
bear it till the hull darned thing dies out and be darned to it.
"It's l'arned me for one thing, that them slick-looking, slick-talking
city fellers kin lie and cheat like thunder; and for another thing,
that it don't dew for a country chap to butt his brains ag'in them city
scamps and al'ays 'spect to git the best on't."
THE PHANTOM ENGINEER.
"Whenever I tell the story," said Alf Whitney, throwing away his
half-smoked cigar, and putting his long legs on the top of the table,
in a way some men have when a story is to be forthcoming, "everybody
winks at everybody else, as much as to say, 'Alf had taken too much
whisky that time,' or 'Alf was asleep and dreamed the whole thing.'
But I tell you, comrades, though you are at liberty to disbelieve
what I tell you, it is true; and that's all I know about it. I'm no
long-headed metaphysician to reason it all out--I only know what
happened, and it's that I'm going to tell."
We gathered closer around the red-hot stove in the bar-room of the
Anderson House, for it was a biting cold night, and the snow was too
much for our train, destitute as we were of a snowplow, and we had
given up the attempt to push through to C---- that night, and retaken
ourselves to the hospitalities of the Arlington.
It had often been whispered among the railway employees that Alf
Whitney had once had something strange happen to him. He was a
young man yet, though the oldest and most skillful engineer on the
road--noted for his skill and judgment, no less than for his sturdy
endurance and his bravery, which nothing ever overcame.
I suppose you people who ride in Pullman cars, rocked in velvet
cushions, and look at the scenery rushing past, through plate glass
windows, heavy with gilt and rosewood mouldings, never think much of
the man upon whom your safety depends--the man who, with his hand
upon the lever which controls the monster that is bearing you along,
stands tireless at his post, through cold and heat, through storm and
sunshine, smutty, grimy with smoke, greasy and weather-hardened, but
oftentimes the bravest and noblest man among you all. But this is a
digression.
We all hastened to assure Alf that we were ready to believe whatever he
might say; and he, smiling a little, as if he doubted the sincerity of
our assurances, began his story. I give it in his own words, which are
much better than mine would be.
"Six years ago, one dark stormy night, Jack Horton lost his life in a
smash-up at Rowley's Bend. Jack was an engineer, and as fine a fellow
as ever trod the ground. He was handsome, too, and notwithstanding his
dirty occupation, a great favorite with the ladies; for when he was
off the machine long enough to get the oil and cinders washed off,
and his other clothes on, he was the best-looking, as well as the
best-mannered, young man anywhere in this vicinity.
"He was engaged to marry Esther Clay; and Esther was a beauty without
anything by way of art to help her--a sound-looking, wholesome, healthy
young girl--none of your die-away kind, fainting at the sight of a
spider, and going into tantrums over a cow a mile off. She was just the
kind of woman I could worship, and not put myself out any to do it,
either!"
"Why didn't you go for her after Jack was dead?" asked Tom Barnard
carelessly.
"Hush! she is dead!" said Alf, in a subdued voice; and the unwonted
pallor that settled round his mouth gave me a slight clue to the reason
he had never married. And afterward I knew that Esther Clay, dead,
and pledged through all eternity to another, was more to him than any
living woman!
After a little he went on.
"When Jack was killed, it was the breaking of an axle that caused the
mischief; and, of course, this axle broke on just the worst part of the
road. They always do. You all know Rowley's Bend? You all know just how
high the grade is there, and just how rough and jagged the rocks lie
all along the embankment, clear down to the river. No need to dwell
on this. The train pitched down into the dark, head first, and Jack,
true to his duty, never stirred from his post. It was a good while
before we could get to him, the broken timbers of the piled-up cars so
completely caged him in. She came there before we had taken his body
out, and I shall never forget how she went down into the ruins where
even the bravest of us hardly dared to venture, so insecure was the
footing, and worked with her white, slender hands, until the blood ran
from their wounds. She never minded it a particle, but worked on, with
a face as pale and rigid as marble. But I am making a long story, and
dwelling too much on details. Jack was dead when they found him, and
she lived just a month afterward. And, though everybody lamented at her
funeral, and said it was 'so sad,' I do not think it was sad, for when
two people love each other, truly and loyally, and one of them dies, it
seems to me Heaven's special mercy if the other is suffered to go along.
"Jack and I had always been great friends; and once when we were
talking about the supernatural nonsense that so many believe in, Jack
said to me laughingly:
"'If I die first, I'll keep a watch over you, old fellow; and when
I see you running into danger, I'll whistle the brakes down. Now
remember!' After he died these careless words of his kept coming back
to me, and try as I would not to remember them, the more they were
present to my mind.
"It was nearly two years after Jack's death that I was taking the
ten-fifty accommodation out to L----. It was a dark, drizzly night, and
the headlight on the front of the engine pierced but a short distance
into the gloom and fog ahead of us. I was running carefully, as I
always run on such nights, and had nearly reached Carney's Ford when I
saw something on the track before us. I whistled to down brakes, and
reversed the lever. The train slackened, and I could see distinctly
ahead of us the tall figure of a man. But we got no nearer to him, for
though he seemed to be only walking, his speed was fully equal to ours.
We should never overtake him. A cold shiver ran through me as I noted
this fact. No mortal man could walk like that.
"'Richards,' said I to the fireman, who, ghastly and trembling with
fear, was gazing at the strange apparition, 'it must be Old Nick
himself, with the seven-league boots on!'
"As I spoke, the figure turned toward us, and then I saw that in his
hand he carried a red lantern, the well-known signal of danger. He
lifted it, swung it slowly round his head once, and, as he did so, the
blood-red light fell full on his face--the face of Jack Horton. For
a moment he stood motionless, then he was enveloped in a pale, azure
flame, which died out instantly, and left--nothing!
"All this, which it has taken me so long to describe, took place in an
instant of time, and by the time the phantom had vanished Richards and
I had managed to stop the train. We got off and went ahead. The red
lantern had not signaled 'danger' for nothing. A heavy stick of timber
was spiked across the track, and, had we gone on at full speed, it
would have sent us to swift destruction.
"The company ferreted out the rascal who had done this vile thing, and
he is serving out a long term in the State prison now. I have seen him
and talked with him, and he swore to me, with a voice that trembled
even then with horror, that after he had spiked down the timber and had
hidden in some bushes near by to watch the result, he had seen a tall
man, with a red lantern in his hand, start up in front of the engine
and walk, as nothing human could walk, until he reached the very spot
where the danger lay.
"'And then,' said the miscreant, 'he changed into a blue flame, and
vanished, and I knew that my plan was upset, and that for once Satan
had gone back on them as he'd set to work.'"
"Well," said Tom Barnard, "what else?"
"That is all," said Alf, lighting another cigar.
"But what was the fellow's object in seeking to disable the train?"
"Plunder. He had ascertained that a carrying company would have a large
sum of money on board that night, and he was not averse to turning an
honest penny."
"But the phantom--how do you explain it?" persisted Tom.
"I don't explain it," said Alf quietly.
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342--Through the Earth; or, Jack Nelson's Invention. By Fred Thorpe.
343--The Boy Chief; or, Comrades of Camp and Trail. By John De Morgan.
344--Smart Alec; or, Bound to Get There. By Weldon J. Cobb.
345--Climbing Up; or, The Meanest Boy Alive. By Harrie Irving Hancock.
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347--A Young Snake-charmer; or, The Fortunes of Dick Erway. By Fred
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30--Motor Matt's Mandarin; or, Turning a Trick for Tsan Ti.
31--Motor Matt's Mariner; or, Filling the Bill for Bunce.
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694--Dick Merriwell in Utah; or, The Road to "Promised Land."
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697--Dick Merriwell's Ranch Friends; or, Sport on the Range.
698--Frank Merriwell at Phantom Lake; or, The Mystery of the Mad
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699--Frank Merriwell's Hold-back; or, The Boys of Bristol.
700--Frank Merriwell's Lively Lads; or, The Rival Campers.
701--Frank Merriwell as Instructor; or, The Skill of the Wizard.
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Every boy who reads one of the splendid adventures of Motor Matt, which
are making their appearance in this weekly, is at once surprised and
delighted. Surprised at the generous quantity of reading matter that we
are giving for five cents; delighted with the fascinating interest of
the stories, second only to those published in the Tip Top Weekly.
Matt has positive mechanical genius, and while his adventures are
unusual, they are, however, drawn so true to life that the reader can
clearly see how it is possible for the ordinary boy to experience them.
_HERE ARE THE TITLES NOW READY AND THOSE TO BE PUBLISHED_:
1--Motor Matt; or, The King of the Wheel.
2--Motor Matt's Daring; or, True to His Friends.
3--Motor Matt's Century Run; or, The Governor's Courier.
4--Motor Matt's Race; or, The Last Flight of the "Comet."
5--Motor Matt's Mystery; or, Foiling a Secret Plot.
6--Motor Matt's Red Flier; or, On the High Gear.
7--Motor Matt's Clue; or, The Phantom Auto.
8--Motor Matt's Triumph; or, Three Speeds Forward.
9--Motor Matt's Air Ship; or, The Rival Inventors.
10--Motor Matt's Hard Luck; or, The Balloon House Plot.
11--Motor Matt's Daring Rescue; or, The Strange Case of Helen Brady.
12--Motor Matt's Peril; or, Cast Away in the Bahamas.
13--Motor Matt's Queer Find; or, The Secret of the Iron Chest.
14--Motor Matt's Promise; or, The Wreck of the "Hawk."
15--Motor Matt's Submarine; or, The Strange Cruise of the "Grampus."
16--Motor Matt's Quest; or, Three Chums in Strange Waters.
17--Motor Matt's Close Call; or, The Snare of Don Carlos.
18--Motor Matt in Brazil; or, Under the Amazon.
19--Motor Matt's Defiance; or, Around the Horn.
20--Motor Matt Makes Good; or, Another Victory for the Motor Boys.
21--Motor Matt's Launch; or, A Friend in Need.
22--Motor Matt's Enemies; or, A Struggle for the Right.
23--Motor Matt's Prize; or, The Pluck that Wins.
24--Motor Matt on the Wing; or, Flying for Fame and Fortune.
25--Motor Matt's Reverse; or, Caught in a Losing Game.
26--Motor Matt's "Make or Break"; or, Advancing the Spark of
Friendship.
27--Motor Matt's Engagement; or, On the Road With a Show.
28--Motor Matt's "Short Circuit"; or, The Mahout's Vow.
To be Published on September 6th.
29--Motor Matt's Make-up; or, Playing a New Role.
To be Published on September 13th.
30--Motor Matt's Mandarin; or, Turning a Trick for Tsan Ti.
To be Published on September 20th.
31--Motor Matt's Mariner; or, Filling the Bill for Bunce.
To be Published on September 27th.
32--Motor Matt's Double-trouble; or, The Last of the Hoodoo.
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Transcriber's Notes:
Added table of contents.
Italics are represented with _underscores_, bold with =equal signs=.
Page 5, added missing quote before "Tsan Ti expressly stipulates."
Page 9, corrected "qundary" to "quandary."
Page 11, changed "thrown" to "throw" in "throw the speeder off the
rails."
Page 12, added missing apostrophe to "if ye ain't?"
Page 13, changed "anl" to "and" in "and he's got shy." Changed "or" to
"of" in "vicinity of the sharp curve."
Page 14, changed "declarel" to "declared" after "I don't believe it."
Changed "her" to "here" in "a dozen miles from here."
Page 15, corrected double quote to single quote before "Eye of Buddha."
Page 16, corrected double "man" in "third man took it."
Page 27, corrected "countefeit" to "counterfeit" ("asked that he make a
counterfeit").
Page 29, retained error ("your darn smart") from original on assumption
it is intended as part of dialect.
Page 30, corrected "pickel" to "picked" ("critter you've picked").
End of Project Gutenberg's Motor Matt's Mariner, by Stanley R. Matthews