THE MOVING-PICTURE MAN MAKES A QUEER MOVE.
A little farther along the beach, and well out of the way of high
tide, four heavy posts had been planted in the sand. This was the
mooring-place for the "Hawk," the famous air ship belonging to Matt and
Dick Ferral, and which the three chums had brought from South Chicago.
The boys had had the Hawk in Atlantic City for two weeks, making four
flights every day except on Sunday, or on days when high winds or
stormy weather prevailed. There had been only one stormy day when it
had been found necessary to house the Hawk under the roof of one of the
piers, and only one other day when the wind had been so strong as to
make an ascent too risky.
Four passengers were carried aloft in each flight. Six persons were all
Matt thought advisable to take up in the air ship, and of course he
had to go along to take charge of the motor, and with him went either
Dick or Carl to act as lookout and "crew." A charge of $25 was made for
each passenger, and the flights had so captured the fancy of wealthy
resorters that the boys had advance "bookings" that promised to keep
them in Atlantic City all the summer. With $400 a day coming in, and a
very small outgo for expenses, the chums were making money hand over
fist.
On the afternoon when Carl was taking his dip in the ocean, and
incidentally spoiling films for the moving-picture people, Matt and
Dick, with their usual four passengers, had been making their last
flight of the day over Absecon Island and the eastern coast of New
Jersey.
One of the passengers on that trip was a Mr. Archibald Townsend, of
Philadelphia. Passengers always showed a great interest in the air
ship, but Mr. Townsend had shown more curiosity and had asked more
questions than any of the others.
As Matt and Dick were bringing the Hawk down to the beach, they had
witnessed the overturning of the Italian's "red-hot" outfit, and had
seen Carl get clear of the wreck and race on toward the steel pier.
Leaving Dick to make the air ship secure in her berth, Matt had tumbled
out of the car and hurried after Carl. As we have already seen, the
young motorist reached his Dutch chum just as the officer had laid hold
of him.
The officer's name was McMillan, and he was arrogant and officious to
a degree. He had been on duty along that part of the board walk ever
since the chums had reached Atlantic City, and he had interfered with
their operations to such an extent that Matt had found it necessary,
on one occasion, to report him. On this account, McMillan was not very
amiably disposed toward the young motorist and his friends.
"I don't care who this fellow is," growled the officer, nodding his
head toward Carl, "no one can come here an' raise hob on the beach
without bein' jugged for it. I saw what happened. The Dutchman knocked
over the dago's cart."
"Dot feller," and here Carl pointed to the moving-picture man, "set der
dog on me. Oof I hatn't knocked ofer der cart, der dog vould haf got me
sure. Vat pitzness he got setting der dog on me, hey? He iss to plame,
yah, dot's righdt."
"What did you want to butt into our picture for?" demanded the
photographer.
"How I know you vas daking some mooting bictures?" demanded Carl. "I
see dot young laty on der peach, und she vas in some greadt drouples;
den I see dem birate fellers in der poat, going afder her, und nopody
vould run mit demselufs to der resgue. Den I go. You bed my life, no
laty vat iss in tisdress can be dot vay ven I vas aroundt."
"We'll have to do our work all over again to-morrow afternoon," went on
the moving-picture man, "and I have to pay these actors more money for
another afternoon's work."
"How much will that be?" asked Matt, who saw very clearly that Carl had
made a mistake and was in the wrong.
"There are six of 'em," replied the photographer, "and I pay them ten
dollars apiece."
"That makes sixty dollars," said Matt, "and I'll----"
"Just a minute, King." It was Mr. Townsend who spoke. He had hurried
toward the scene of the dispute and had arrived in time to hear the
moving-picture man's explanation and Matt's offer to foot the bill.
"This fellow's name is Jurgens," continued Mr. Townsend. "He comes from
Philadelphia, and I happen to know that he gives these actors five
dollars apiece for their work. If you give him just half of what he
asks, King, you will be treating him fairly."
Jurgens glared at Townsend.
"What business have you got interfering here?" he asked, angrily.
"I am merely interfering in the interests of justice, that's all,"
replied Townsend, coolly, "and because I think you an all-around
scoundrel, Jurgens. You and I have had some dealings already, you
remember."
A black scowl crossed Jurgens' face.
"And our dealings are not finished yet, by a long shot," returned
Jurgens.
Townsend tossed his hands contemptuously and turned his back on the
photographer.
"I'll have my sixty dollars," cried Jurgens, to Matt, "or there'll be
trouble."
"You'll take thirty," said Matt, taking some money from his pocket and
offering it, "and not a cent more."
Jurgens struck aside the hand fiercely.
"This dago is the boy that interests me," said the officer. "He's a
poor man an' can't afford to have his stock in trade ruined by that
Dutch lobster."
At this, Carl fired up.
"Who you vas galling a Dutch lopsder?" he demanded, moving truculently
in the direction of McMillan.
"You!" snorted the officer, dropping a hand on his club.
Carl let fly with his fist. Matt grabbed the arm just in time to
counter the blow.
"That's your game is it?" growled McMillan, jerking the club from his
belt. "I'll take care of you, my buck! Come along to the station with
me!"
"Wait a minute, officer," said Matt. "Stop making a fool of yourself,
Carl," he added to his Dutch chum. "You made a mistake at the
start-off, but that was no reason Jurgens should have set the dog on
you. As for the Italian," and here Matt faced the officer again, "I'll
pay him for the damage he has suffered."
"Fifty cents will probably settle that," laughed Townsend, "so if you
throw him a five, King, he will be glad the accident happened."
One of the bank notes Jurgens had refused Matt now gave the Italian.
His grieved look at once faded into an expansive grin, and he grabbed
the money, thanked Matt in explosive Italian and ran back toward his
overturned cart.
"That lets the dago out," said the officer, grimly, "but it don't let
the Dutchman out, not by a jugful. He'll get a fine, and if Jurgens
here wants to prefer charges----"
"I do," snapped Jurgens. "If I don't get that sixty dollars I'll make
it hot for all these balloonists. That's the kind of a duck I am."
"I know what kind of a duck you are, Jurgens," said Townsend, sternly,
"and if you know when you're well off, you'll leave Motor Matt and his
friends alone."
"Sixty dollars," cried Jurgens, hotly, "and this gang can take it or
leave it."
"You go with me," declared McMillan, twisting his left hand in the
collar of Carl's bathing suit.
"Nonsense, officer!" said Townsend. "You're making a mountain out of a
molehill. Let the boy alone."
"I know my business," snarled the officer, "an' I don't have to have
strangers blow in here an' tell me what to do."
He took a step toward the board walk, jerking Carl along after him.
"I'm not a stranger in Atlantic City, officer," went on Townsend. "In
fact, I'm very well acquainted with the chief of police here. Just a
second until I show you my card."
The potent name of the chief brought McMillan to a halt. He had been
reported once, and if a man who had influence reported him again, there
might be a vacancy in the force.
"All I want is to do what's right," he mumbled.
Townsend had reached into his pocket and drawn out a handful of papers.
While he was going over them, looking for his professional card,
Jurgens made a lightning-like move. It was a most peculiar move and,
for a moment, took everybody by surprise.
Throwing himself forward, Jurgens snatched a long, folded paper from
among those Townsend held in his hands. Quick as a wink Jurgens
whirled, dashed for the steps leading up to the board walk and was away
like a deer.
"Stop him, officer!" shouted Townsend. "That's the kind of a man he is!
Stop him!"
McMillan now saw that a real emergency confronted him. Releasing Carl,
he rushed away on the trail of the thieving Jurgens.
Motor Matt, however, had kept his wits, and he was halfway to the steps
before the officer had started.
When the young motorist bounded to the board walk, Jurgens was tearing
through the crowd.
"Stop, thief! Stop, thief!" yelled Matt.
There were so many people thronging that part of the board walk that it
seemed an easy enough matter to halt the rascally photographer. Yet,
strange as it may seem, this was not the case. Men, who were escorting
ladies and children, made haste to get them out of the way; others, who
had no one depending on them, seemed bewildered, and pushed out of the
way to watch. Fortunately, another officer appeared on the other side
of the entrance to the pier and headed Jurgens off in that direction.
Turning to the left, Jurgens struck the ticket taker out of his path
and raced onto the pier.
Matt followed, not more than a dozen feet behind.
The concert was over and, at that moment, there were not many people
on the pier, and Matt had a straight-away chase through the little
pavilions.
He felt sure that he would capture Jurgens, for when the thief reached
the end of the pier, the Atlantic Ocean would cut short his flight and
he would have to turn back.
But in this Matt was mistaken. Jurgens did not run to the end of the
pier but climbed over the rail at the side and dropped from sight. When
Matt reached the rail, he saw that Jurgens had dropped into a rowboat,
that had been tied to the piles, and was bending to the oars. He
shouted a taunting defiance at Matt as he continued to put a widening
stretch of water between them.
At once Matt thought of the Hawk. In less than five minutes he and
Ferral could be in the air, following the rowboat wherever it went.
With the officers to watch the shore and perhaps pursue Jurgens in
other boats, Matt felt positive that he and Dick would be able to
overhaul Jurgens if other means failed.
Without loss of a moment, he started back toward the board walk.