A DASH FOR THE OPEN.
That visit of Matt, McGlory, and Lorry to the boathouse was worth all
the danger it had brought, even if it had resulted in nothing more than
opening Lorry's eyes to the duplicity of his supposed friend.
But other things had developed that were highly interesting, as well as
edifying.
Matt was astounded to learn that an anonymous letter had made the
elder Lorry so bitterly hostile. If Lorry had put so much faith in one
unsigned letter, surely he would have equal confidence in the second,
and might be expected to cross the lake on the following morning and
make his way to the cabin on the creek.
It was likewise refreshing to learn that Big John was intending to take
his two pals and return to the West. Matt was not forgetting that Ross
and Kinky had some three hundred dollars of his money, and before the
flight something must be done to recover the funds.
But just then a common danger suggested that the boys must get away
from the boathouse. There were four enemies against them, and at least
three of the enemies were armed.
"We've got to get out of here, Joe," whispered Matt.
"Why not lay low till _they_ get out?" returned the cowboy.
"It won't be possible. That hot lamp chimney is going to do the trick
for us. Big John will mention it and ask Ross and Kinky why they left
the boathouse and went out into the rain. Ross and Kinky will say they
didn't; then there'll be talk and a hunt for intruders. We've got to
make a dash for the open--and at once."
"You've got it right, Motor Matt," murmured Lorry. "The quicker I can
get away from here, the better I'll like it. I've learned a lot," and
there was bitterness in Lorry's voice as he finished.
"Let's heave over the boat and make a dash for the back door,"
suggested McGlory. "We're rushin' straight into the dark, and, if we're
quick, we can get clear before there's any shooting."
"That hits me," said Lorry.
"It's now or never, then," assented Matt. "Separate, just outside the
boathouse, and then come together again at the launch. We'll go up to
that cave you fellows found. You understand the plan, do you?"
"Yes," answered Lorry and McGlory.
"Then lay hold of the edge of the boat," went on Matt.
In their narrow quarters the three boys knelt, waiting for the word to
lift the boat's edge from the skids and throw the hulk entirely over.
It was not a large boat, and their strength was fully equal to the task
they had set for themselves.
"_Now!_" hissed Matt.
Over went the boat with a crash. Startled yells came from the sitting
room, followed by silence broken only by a rush of feet as Matt, Lorry,
and McGlory darted toward the rear door.
"Stop 'em!" roared Big John.
"Guns!" cried Ross; "use your guns!"
McGlory halted and whirled. At the side of the boat he had found a
small can of white lead, which was probably to do its part in giving
the hull a coat of paint. When starting to run the cowboy had taken the
can of lead with him.
He paused to hurl the can. Straight as a bullet it shot through the
air, crashed into the lamp, and plunged the interior of the boathouse
in darkness. Another moment and McGlory had hurled himself through the
door.
Acting upon Matt's suggestion, the three friends separated as soon as
they reached the outside air. Ten minutes later they were all together
again at the place where the _Sprite_ was moored.
There was a lull in the storm, and for a while, at least, the rain had
stopped.
Matt began ripping off the boat's tarpaulin cover.
"Cast off the painter, Joe," he called, as he worked. "You can help me
with this, George," he added. "Never mind the skiff--we can't bother
with that now."
Clearing a working space aft of the hood, Matt leaped into the boat
and began getting the motor into action. George finished removing the
"tarp," and McGlory scrambled aboard with the end of the painter.
From the direction of the boathouse sounds of pursuit could be heard.
"Tumble in, George," called Matt. "You can finish that from inside the
boat."
McGlory gave his cousin a hand and Matt started the propeller.
Taking the launch up the river on such a night was hazardous in the
extreme. But Matt had the bearings of the stream in his head, and he
urged the _Sprite_ boldly onward.
From behind them, somewhere, a revolver was fired. The leaden missile
caused no damage, and the launch rushed on into the gloom.
Lorry, who knew the river well, pushed to Matt's side to be of what
help he could.
"You never had a better chance to wreck a boat, Motor Matt," said
Lorry, "than you've got right now."
"I'm hoping for the best," returned Matt. "Instinct, more than anything
else, is guiding me. I don't know, but I seem to _feel_ it when we're
going wrong."
It was the same instinct, perhaps, which carries a horse over the right
road when the rider is lost, or that carries a bird miles and miles
through the air to the same nest in the same tree of the forest.
This was not the first time Matt had profited by that vague intuition.
It was almost like a sixth sense.
McGlory, time and again, held his breath, fearing that they were about
to run upon the rocks; but, just as surely, time and again, the king of
the motor boys turned the wheel and deep water remained under them.
"It's up to you fellows to tell me where to stop," said Matt.
"I'm watching for the place," replied Lorry, "but the shore line
looks like a solid blur of shadow. I can't distinguish one point from
another."
"Figure it out by dead-reckoning," suggested Matt. "You must have some
idea, George, how far the cave is from the lake."
"Two miles, I should say."
"Then, at this speed, we've covered the two miles," and Matt shut off
the power and let the boat's momentum carry her toward the bank.
The _Sprite_ came to a halt with a slight jar, which proved that she
had struck.
"That's all right," announced Matt, "and we're close enough to tie up.
Never mind if we do get our feet wet; we're in luck to get out of that
boathouse as well as we did."
"You can gamble the limit on that," answered McGlory, splashing ashore
with the painter. "I'm a Digger, too, if this place don't look familiar
to me, what little I can see of it."
"It's familiar to me, too," exulted Lorry. "Why, fellows, we're within
a hundred feet of the cave! Talk about luck, will you? This lays over
anything that ever came my way."
Matt replaced the tarpaulin, got over the side, and waded to the bank.
Lorry and McGlory led him upward for a dozen feet to a place where the
bank broke away in a sort of narrow shelf. Something like a hundred
feet along this shelf was the opening into the cavern. The entrance was
masked with hazels, but the boys crowded in, and soon found themselves
in dry quarters.
"Speak to me about that boathouse, please!" guffawed the cowboy,
stretching himself out on the uneven stone floor. "Were Big John and
his pals surprised! I rather guess they were."
"Tell us more about that attempt Big John and Merton made to rob you on
the Waunakee road," said Lorry. "It seems strange that Merton should
have a hand in anything like that, or that he should be mixed up with
this gang of scoundrels at all. Merton's folks are immensely wealthy.
They're traveling in Europe now, and Merton is in Madison attending the
university. Mert is a spender, all right, and all he has to do when he
wants money is to ask for it. Why should he help Big John try to get
that ten thousand from you, Matt?"
"Possibly it wasn't the money end of the deal that attracted Merton,"
answered Matt. "It may be that all he wanted, Lorry, was to make you as
much trouble as he could."
Lorry muttered angrily under his breath.
"I don't know how I ever let him pull the wool over my eyes," said he,
"but it's a fact that I considered Ollie Merton my best friend. It was
by his advice that I took that money and went to 'Frisco."
"That, alone," remarked Matt earnestly, "proves that Merton was not a
friend."
"I'm beginning to see it in that light myself," admitted Lorry. "It's
hard to have to say so, but it's the truth."
"Hard!" scoffed McGlory. "Why, pard, the way you're showin' up is sure
hard to beat. But don't hang fire with that yarn of yours, Matt. You've
got ours, and all George and I need is a statement of facts from you in
order to get the whole business straight in our own minds. Heave ahead
now, and be quick about it. I'm about ready to doze off."
Matt began with his start for Waunakee, related the attempted robbery,
and the manner in which he and Ethel Lorry had backed the runabout
along the Waunakee road and into Madison.
The part Matt dreaded to tell had to do with his interview with
Lorry's father; but Lorry had shown such a surprising change in his
whole manner of thought and action that Matt detailed the conversation
between himself and Mr. Lorry exactly as it had occurred.
A few days before, such a report would have sent George into a furious
tirade against his father, but he now listened quietly and without
comment.
Matt, highly pleased, proceeded to tell how he had taken the launch
from the express office, had engaged Pickerel Pete, and had run the
_Sprite_ into Fourth Lake and up the Catfish; then followed his visit
to the cabin, his failure to find McGlory and Lorry, his return to the
launch, his capture by a ruse on the part of Ross, and, finally, the
murderous attempt which Ross had made and which had come so near being
successful.
"That Ross must be bug-house!" growled McGlory angrily.
"He had been drinking," said Matt. "A man will do things when he's
partly intoxicated that he wouldn't think of doing when sober."
"You're out three hundred dollars, Matt," spoke up Lorry, "and I don't
think that money will ever come back to you. When we made that dash
from the boathouse, Big John and his pals knew we had been there long
enough to learn a whole lot about their plans. Ross and Kinky have
discovered that you were saved from the burning boat, even if they
didn't know it before, and all three of the rascals will not lose a
minute getting away from this part of the country. I doubt if it would
do any good for us to go to Madison and report to the police. Big John
and his pals are done with Madison, and with you. They'll make tracks
for where they came from, and they'll do it at once."
"That sounds like pretty good reasoning to me," observed Matt, "but I
guess that what we've accomplished is worth all it cost us. What are
your plans, Lorry?"
"I'm going home in the morning," declared Lorry. "If I'm to go to a
military school--well, there are worse places."
"Listen to George!" cried McGlory. "Oh, tell me about George! Ain't he
a surprise party, though?"
"Now," said Matt jubilantly, "I'm _sure_ that what we've accomplished
is worth the price. Good night, pards. I've found a soft stone, and
I've got material for pleasant dreams, so I'm going to sleep. In the
morning, we're for across the lake--and Aristocracy Hill!"