THE MAHOUT'S FLIGHT.
When Matt and McGlory, hurrying to the aëroplane to make inquiries
concerning Carl, came within sight of Ping, they saw him calmly
occupied twirling a set of jackstones.
"Ping!" called Matt.
"Awri'!" answered Ping, slipping the jackstones into a pocket of his
blouse and immediately getting up.
"Where's Carl?"
"Dutchy boy no good. Him lun away."
"Run away?" echoed McGlory. "Here's a slam! When and how, Ping?"
"Ben Ali dlive 'lound in wagon. Him say to Dutchy boy, 'You come.'
Dutchy boy makee come chop-chop. Ben Ali shuttee do', put on Melican
coat, Melican hat, makee dlive off. Woosh! Dutchy boy no good."
This offhand description of what had happened to Carl was received with
startled wonder by Matt and McGlory.
"When was this?" demanded Matt.
"Plaps fi' minit, plaps ten minit. No gottee clock, Motol Matt; no
savvy time."
"You say Ben Ali drove up in a wagon?"
"Dlive up in monkey wagon. Put Dutchy boy in monkey wagon."
"And then he locked Carl inside?"
"Allee same."
"And took off his turban and embroidered coat and replaced them with
another hat and coat?"
"Melican hat, plenty long coat."
"Wouldn't that rattle your spurs, pard?" murmured McGlory.
"What did Ben Ali do?" went on Matt, resolved to get at the bottom of
the matter, if possible.
"Him makee funny look with eye," replied Ping. "By Klismus! him blame'
funny look. One piecee devil shine in eye."
"Hypnotized!" grunted McGlory.
"You can't easily hypnotize a person against his will," averred Matt.
"It's not hard to guess that Carl was a good way from being willing to
go with Ben Ali."
"What the dickens did Ben Ali want to run off Carl for?" queried
McGlory.
"This business gets more and more mysterious, Joe," returned Matt, "the
farther we go into it."
"And that yell we heard!"
"That certainly came from Carl. Ben Ali must have driven past the
calliope tent while we were talking inside. The fact that Carl gave a
yell for help proves that he wasn't wholly hypnotized."
"He may have come out from under the influence just long enough to give
a whoop," suggested the cowboy.
"Let's go back and hunt up Burton," said Matt. "He'll want his monkey
wagon, and, of course, we've got to get hold of Carl."
"It's news to discover that Ben Ali is a hypnotist," observed McGlory,
as he and Matt whirled and started to retrace the ground over which
they had just passed.
"I told you these Hindoos were a crafty set," answered Matt.
The doors were open and the crowd was vanishing inside the big tents.
The grounds were not so congested with people as they had been, and it
was easier to get about and hunt for Burton.
As it chanced, they ran plump into the manager just as they were
rounding the dressing tent at the end of the circus "top."
Burton was red and perspiring, and there was wrath in his face.
"I've been looking all around for you fellows," he cried. "You can run
one of these here buzz-wagons, can't you, Matt?"
"Yes," replied Matt, "but----"
"Come along," interrupted Burton, grabbing Matt by the arm, "we haven't
any time to spare."
"Wait!" protested Matt, drawing back. "Have you seen----"
"Can't wait," fumed Burton. "I've hired a chug-car; and there's a race
on. Haidee has skipped. Aurung Zeeb, one of the other Hindoo mahouts,
has helped her get away. They've taken my runabout. Confound such
blooming luck, anyhow!"
Here was news, and no mistake. Ben Ali running off with Carl, and
Aurung Zeeb taking to the open with the showman's Kentucky cob and
rubber-tired buggy!
"Do you know where Aurung Zeeb and Haidee went?" asked Matt.
"I haven't the least notion," was the wrathful answer, "but we've got
to find them. I don't care a straw about Zeeb, or the girl, but that
runabout rig is worth six hundred dollars, just as it stands."
"Well, if you don't know which way the rig went," argued Matt, "it's
foolish to go chasing them and depending on luck to point the way."
"We've got to do something!" declared Burton.
"Where's Ben Ali?"
"Oh, hang Ben Ali! I haven't seen him since he flashed that knife in my
face."
"We've just discovered," proceeded Matt, "that he has skipped out, too,
and taken your monkey wagon along."
"Sure of that?"
"Ping just told us. Not only that, Burton, but he took my Dutch
pard--the lad that came this morning--with him. Carl was locked in the
cage."
"Worse and worse," ground out Burton. "How'd Ben Ali ever manage to do
that?"
"On the face of it, I should say that Ben Ali had hypnotized Carl."
"Nonsense! What does an elephant driver know about hypnotism? Still,
this begins to look like a comprehensive plan to steal a monkey wagon
and a runabout and leave me in the lurch. What do you think of that
Haidee girl to do a thing like this? She seemed mighty anxious to earn
money, yet here she skips out with about a hundred in cash to her
credit."
"It's hard to understand the turn events have taken," said Matt. "But I
wouldn't blame Haidee too much until you know more about her--and about
Ben Ali."
"I want my horses and my rolling stock," fretted Burton. "The rest of
the outfit can go hang, if I get back the plunder."
"You said something about an automobile," said Matt.
"There's a car here, and the man that owns it is seeing the show. He
said I could have the use of the car all afternoon for fifty dollars.
He thought I was an easy mark, and I let him think so. He's got the
money and I've got the car. After he'd gone inside, I happened to
remember that I couldn't run the thing, so I chased off looking for
you. Here we are," and the three, who had been walking in the direction
of the road, came to the side of a large automobile.
It was a good machine, with all of six cylinders under the hood.
"If you're a mind reader, and can tell where we ought to go, Burton,"
said Motor Matt, "I'll get you there. I feel right at home when I'm in
the driver's seat of a motor car."
"Wait till I ask somebody," and Burton whirled and flew away.
"Gone to have some fortune teller read his palm," laughed McGlory. "Oh,
but he's wild when he gets started."
"I don't blame him for worrying," said Matt. "He was offered four
hundred, spot cash, for that Kentucky cob, in Indianapolis. Shouldn't
wonder if he stood to lose a thousand dollars if the runaways can't
be overhauled. And he hasn't much time to overhaul them, either, Joe.
The three sections of the show train have got to be on the move toward
South Bend by three in the morning. I'm worried some myself, on Carl's
account. What has that crafty mahout got at the back of his head? I
wish I knew. You and I are going to stay right here in Lafayette until
we can find out something about Carl."
"Sure we are," agreed the cowboy heartily. "But here comes Burton, and
he looks as though he'd found out something."
"One of the canvasmen," announced Burton breathlessly, as he came up
with the boys, "says that he saw the monkey wagon heading south into
the country. Can't find out which way the runabout headed, but we'll
take after the other outfit. Get in and drive the machine for all
you're worth."
Matt passed around in front, and was pleased with the business-like
manner in which the motor took up its cycle.
"Here's where we throw in the high-speed clutch and scoot," said Matt,
settling into the driver's seat with a glad feeling tingling along his
nerves. It had suddenly occurred to him that he would rather motor in
a high-powered car than do anything else that had so far claimed his
attention. In such a machine, "miles were his minions and distance his
slave." "Here we go," he finished, and away bounded the car.
Matt took time to wonder at the nature of a plutocrat who, for fifty
dollars, would trust such a beautiful piece of mechanism in the hands
of a showman. But the fact was accomplished, and guesses at the reason
were futile.
They came to a hill--a steepish kind of a hill, too--and they went over
it without a change of gear. Motor Matt laughed exultantly.
"Took it on the high speed!" he cried. "A car that can do that is a
corker."
On the opposite side of the hill, as they were scorching down with the
speedometer needle playing around the fifty-eight mark, a team and
wagon containing a farmer and his family were almost backed off the
road. Matt tampered with the brakes, but the car was going too fast to
feel the bind of the brake grip.
"Never mind!" cried Burton, from his place at Matt's side. "That outfit
is going to the show to-night. If I see 'em, I'll pass 'em all in
with fifty-cent chairs. Now, boy, hit 'er up. I've got to recover my
property before night sets in, and this may be a long chase."
"Long chase!" yelped McGlory derisively from the tonneau. "How can
it be a long chase when we're going like this? Hang on to your hair,
Burton! Mile-a-minute Matt's at the steering wheel."