A WARY FOE.
Matt reached the beach without mishap. Beyond the white stretch of sand
grew a chaparral of bushes and low trees, covering the slope which
ended at a ridge forming the backbone of the point to the southward.
The young motorist took his way in this direction, halting at the edge
of the brush for a moment to turn and give a reassuring wave to his
comrades on the _Grampus_.
Carl was just securing the end of a rope to the iron ring at the stern
of the boat, Glennie was half inside the conning tower, and Dick had
the rifle across his knees. All three answered Matt's parting salute,
and he faced about and hurried into the chaparral.
Matt's course carried him up the side of the ridge. Once at the crest
he would be able to look down on the Japs and take note of their
operations. He would thus be able to determine whether the bold scheme
which he had at the back of his brain would be feasible or not.
The crest of the ridge was not more than fifty feet above sea level,
and the king of the motor boys was not long in reaching it. There,
screened by a thicket of bushes, he was able to look down on the other
cove, and make a leisurely examination of the _Pom_ and the Japs.
The _Pom_, as Dick had said, was lying within a short distance of the
shore. She was an odd-looking craft, being of a much smaller diameter
than the _Grampus_, and having a flat deck built over the rounded
plates of her hull. The conning tower was only about half the height
and diameter of that of the _Grampus_, and seemed to have a solid top
without any hatch opening. The hatch was forward, on the flat deck, and
the cover was pushed back.
From the submarine, Matt's eyes wandered to the shelving beach.
The torpedo was there, rolled up beyond the reach of the lapping waves,
and two of the Japs were busy about the conical end of the tube. Matt
chuckled as he thought of how he had tampered with the firing pin.
Before they could make the pin serviceable, the Japs would have to rig
another of the little propellers; and, while their ingenuity was no
doubt equal to the job, yet it would take time to finish it.
The two men who were at work were clad only in their trousers, and had
clearly reached the shore as Matt had done, by swimming. They went
about their work steadily and with an application which indicated that
they had little attention for anything else.
From their manner, it seemed a fair inference that the rifle shot, or
Dick's yell, from the other side of the point, had failed to reach them.
But where were the other two Japs? Had they returned to the _Pom_?
It might be that the two on the beach were in need of more tools and
had sent the others out to the boat after them.
Matt, thinking of his plans, measured the distance from the end of the
point to the _Pom_.
"The _Grampus_ can do it!" he muttered, with an undernote of exultation
throbbing in his voice. "A quick dash, and then a hustle seaward--and
the trick is done. But those other two Japs--I wish they would leave
the boat and come ashore. They form the danger point in the carrying
out of the scheme."
There was something else Matt noticed as he peered out from behind his
thicket, and that was that two rifles lay on the sand within easy reach
of the Jap mechanics.
"Those guns are another danger point," he said to himself. "The _Pom_,
however, will be between the _Grampus_ and the beach, and will act as a
sort of barricade. Anyhow, nothing venture, nothing win."
For five minutes longer Matt waited, watching for the other two Japs to
reappear through the _Pom's_ hatch. But they did not come, and he felt
that he could wait no longer.
Arising from his crouching position, he turned to retrace his course
down the hill. He had not taken a dozen steps, however, when, dodging
around a clump of bushes, he came face to face with the two missing
Japs!
From the actions of the two men, it was plain that they were as much
surprised as was Motor Matt.
The cause of this unexpected meeting flashed through Matt's brain like
lightning.
The rifle shot had been heard, and these two Japs had been told to
cross the ridge and investigate. Matt had gained the shore before the
Japs had cleared the bushes and were able to see him. As they descended
the slope, he was going up, and fortune had decreed that they give each
other a wide berth. But fortune had taken another tack, for she was
now bringing Matt and the Japs altogether too close to each other for
comfort.
These Japs, like the two at work on the torpedo, were stripped of all
unnecessary clothing; and, fortunately for the young motorist, they
carried no weapons.
For an instant Matt and the two yellow men stared at each other; then
the Japs gave vent to a yell, and prepared to keep Matt from continuing
on down the hill.
Matt, remembering the two rifles he had seen on the beach, had no
intention of waiting for the other two Japs to reach the scene. He
saw the men before him preparing to lay him by the heels in the most
approved ju-jutsu style, but that did not keep him back.
He leaped forward, apparently aiming to pass directly between the two
men. They jumped to get in his way, whereupon he dodged to the right.
But, if he was quick, so were the Japs. No sooner had he changed his
course than they also had faced the new direction.
As Matt went flying down the hill, one of them made a dive for him. The
king of the motor boys struck out with his right fist--and he had a
"right" about which Carl Pretzel was wont to sing praises.
The fist accomplished its work, so far as that one Jap was concerned.
A sharp breath was jolted from the yellow man and the hands he had put
out dropped limply, the while his whole body slumped backward.
But something happened to Matt, just what he had not the least idea.
All he knew was that he was lifted high and sent crashing headfirst
into a thicket of bushes.
The second Jap had put into practice one of the wrestling tricks he had
learned in Nippon.
Matt, however, was not sorry he had been thrown in that unceremonious
fashion, for, just as he dropped into the bushes, the sodden _whang_
of a rifle spoke from the crest of the ridge and a bullet flew whining
over the very spot where he had been running.
The other two Japs had lost little time in coming to the aid of their
comrades.
Matt was up almost as soon as he was down. His superb physical training
rendered him proof against any such fall as that he had just received.
Both Japs were reaching for him as he ducked clear of the bushes, but
he slipped out from under their gripping fingers and flashed down
the slope like a streak, screening his flight with every particle of
tangled undergrowth that got in his way.
The rifles behind him continued to cough and splutter. The unarmed
Japs, however, were between Matt and the marksmen, and the care the
latter had to use sent their bullets wide.
The Japs were no match for Matt when it came to sprinting. Matt had
learned the game from a half-breed friend, the best "miler" in Arizona,
and he now showed the Japs how an American boy can run when he has his
heart in it.
Before the yellow men had cleared the fringe of bushes at the edge of
the beach, Motor Matt was in the water; and when the Japs emerged, Dick
plowed up the ground at their feet with bullets from the Marlin, and
drove them back.
Matt could not have swum faster if there had been a whole school of
sharks after him, but before he got to the _Grampus_ lead from the
shore was pounding a merry tattoo against the submarine's steel plates.
Dick, exposing himself recklessly, was answering with the Marlin.
Neither side was damaging the other, but the firing spurred Matt to
superhuman exertions.
When the young motorist reached the boat, Carl ducked out from behind
the conning tower and gave him a hand up the slope of the deck.
"Now's the time," panted Matt, falling at full length across the curved
plates. "Start her--full speed."
"Where are we to go?" demanded Glennie.
"Around the point and take the _Pom_ in tow," Matt answered. "All
four of the Japs are ashore, in this cove. Before they can cross the
ridge and interfere with us, we ought to be able to pick up the other
submarine and make off with her. Look alive, now! We can't turn the
trick if you don't hustle."
The daring nature of Matt's scheme dawned on the lads with something
like a shock. And it appealed to them, too! It was just such a scheme
as they might have expected Motor Matt to set going.
"Hoop-a-la!" jubilated Carl, as Glennie punched the motor-room jingler.
"Vat do you t'ink oof dot? Modor Matt goes ashore mit himseluf und
coaxes der Chaps to shace him mit rifles, schust to ged dem oudt oof
der vay so ve can shteal pack der _Pom_. Vat a feller he iss!"
"You're giving me altogether too much credit, Carl," expostulated Matt.
"I ran onto those Japs by accident, and would have gone a good ways to
keep clear of them."
"Vell, vat's der odds aboudt der tifference? Der modor poys iss on dop
und----"
A bullet from the shore slapped against the side of the conning tower
and whistled off into space, passing so close to Carl's head in its
flight that he stopped his glorying and fell flat on the deck.
"They'll not stay long on the beach there when they see where we're
going," remarked Matt grimly.
"They've stopped their firing now, old ship," cried Dick, "and are
rushing back into the bushes as fast as they can scramble."
"It has probably dawned upon them that we're planning to run off with
the _Pom_," said Matt. "Quick work, now, and we'll win the day, and cut
these Sons of the Rising Sun out of our future calculations."
The propeller was churning the waters like mad, and Glennie was laying
a safe course to round the point and bring the _Grampus_ close to the
_Pom_.