WILLOUGHBY'S SWAMP.
Pete kept his weapon prominently displayed, and through the gloom
Matt could see the ruffian's arm partly lifted as though ready on the
instant to bring the firearm into use. This alert attitude on Pete's
part, however, was more for show than for anything else--at least, Matt
so regarded it. Brady was not anxious to go to desperate extremes with
Matt, especially since he wanted him as driver for the air-ship.
Brady, taking up a position where he could peer ahead, was scanning the
dim landscape sharply.
"Swing her to the left!" he called.
Matt instantly applied the steering lever. Instead of swinging to the
left, however, the Hawk made a half-turn to the right.
Up came the revolver. With a sharp cry, the girl reached up and caught
Pete's arm.
"To the _left_, I said!" roared Brady.
"You'll have to give me the chance to learn the machine," answered
Matt, coolly, as he continued working the lever and brought the Hawk
around to the proper course. "These levers are new to me. When we steer
an auto we do it with a wheel."
"I thought ye knowed all about motors," jeered Pete.
"I know something about motors," replied Matt, "but not the first thing
about air-ships."
As near as Matt could judge, they were proceeding at a speed of
something like thirty miles an hour. He speeded up the engine a little
and was surprised at the smoothness with which it worked. The propeller
hummed in a low, husky drone that was quite different from the song of
the cylinders.
He moved the steering lever backward a couple of notches. Immediately
the rudder was tilted and the Hawk began to climb upward.
"Stop that!" yelled Brady. "We're high enough. What are you trying to
do?"
"Learning the machine," answered Matt, and threw the lever forward.
The front end of the gas-bag tipped downward, and the air-ship slid
toward the earth with a suddenness that almost threw Brady over the
rail.
"That'll do you!" he whooped. "Get her on a level again, and be quick
about it. You can handle the machine, all right, and I don't want you
to do anything but what you're told."
"All right," said Matt quietly.
For five minutes longer they continued to swim onward through the air.
A long string of lights shot across the gloomy landscape below them,
and a whistle came upward from the earth with startling distinctness.
"There goes a train, whistlin' fer Lake Station," remarked Pete.
"We'll be over the town in a minute," said Brady, "and then it won't be
long until we get to the swamp."
"What swamp?" asked Matt.
"Never ye mind," was Pete's surly rejoinder. "Ye're here to obey orders
an' not ask any fool questions."
"I don't think it very foolish for a fellow to ask where he's being
taken."
"Mebby not, but ye ain't findin' anythin' out, see?"
Matt had been doing a good deal of guessing about Carl. What would his
chum do? What was he doing then? He felt pretty sure that Carl would
get into the house and go through it from cellar to roof.
But Matt knew that Carl had a good sensible head in cases of emergency.
Now and again the Dutch boy's temper was apt to make trouble with his
reasoning, but in the long run Carl could always be counted on to do
the right thing.
So Matt was not worrying very much about his chum. Carl would take good
care of the blue prints and ultimately they would find their rightful
owner.
"Ha!" exclaimed Brady, suddenly, "there's the signal! I'll go back and
take charge of the motor while we make the landing, Pete, and you take
the lookout."
Matt gave place to Brady and then stood at the rail, watching
developments curiously.
Below the air-ship was a great splotch of black shadow, stretching away
on all sides as far as the eye could reach. Evidently this was the
swamp. The Hawk was sailing across the swamp toward a big fire that
glowed in the distance.
With Brady steering and Pete directing, the Hawk approached closer and
closer to the fire.
"Drop 'er, Brady!" Pete presently called; "we're close on the island."
The nose of the air-ship ducked downward and, for perhaps twenty
seconds, she raced earthward; then Brady diminished the speed of their
descent by slow degrees.
Matt, braced on the sloping floor of the car, watched the fire
apparently come up toward them. A little later he was able to make out
three human figures against the firelit background below, and a bare
little plateau took vague form under his eyes.
He watched the landing keenly, and noted how Brady suddenly shifted
the steering rudder so as to bring the Hawk on an even keel, the lower
supports of the car just grazing the ground.
The three figures by the fire ran close.
"How's everything, Brady?" cried a voice.
"Finer than silk," called back Brady. "Stand by to catch the ropes, you
fellows."
The murmur of the motor ceased, the revolving propeller came to a stop,
and Pete flung out two ropes, one on each side of the car.
The ropes were caught by the men on the ground, a bight of each was
thrown around a stout stake driven into the earth at an angle, and the
air-ship was drawn down and safely moored.
Matt was now able to understand why Brady had taken his place as driver
for the landing. Not only was the method of making a landing new to
Matt, but there was also danger, unless one was familiar with the
place, of scraping the trees that covered the swamp and hemmed in the
cleared space called the "island."
Matt started to spring over the rail of the car.
"Stop, King!" cried Brady. "You don't want to make a bolt for the
timber and get mired in the swamp, do you? Just remember you're still
under orders. Take him to the roost, Needham, you and Whipple. Better
tie him up until he gets used to the place and to our society. He's a
bit strange, here, and none too willing to stay."
"Did you bring the loot, Brady?" called one of the men.
"Sure! This is moving-day with us and you didn't think I was going to
leave all that stuff on Hoyne Street, did you? Get out of the car,
King," he went on, to Matt. "Whipple and Needham will take care of you."
Two of the three men had stepped to the side of the car. In the light
of the fire, which was blazing at a safe distance from the air-ship,
Matt discovered that Needham and Grove had been the two aeronauts who
had had such hard luck with the Hawk during the preceding day.
Needham, who, with Whipple, was facing Matt and waiting for him to get
over the air-ship's rail, gave a husky laugh.
"We got out of that scrape, all right," said he, "even if we did lose
our drag-rope."
"And you got me into another scrape," said Matt. "You fellows will pay
for this!"
"Chirp low, young feller," warned Whipple, catching him by the arm as
he gained the ground; "your cue is to make friends with us an' not
bluster about what ye're goin' ter do. There's five husky men here, an'
we're all surrounded by a swamp that would mire ye up ter the eyes if
ye tried ter git through it. Oh, I reckon ye won't git away ter make
any of us pay fer anythin'! This way, an' step lively."
With Needham and Whipple on each side of him and hanging to an arm,
Matt was led across the open space, past the fire, and to the door
of a small, roughly built shanty. A little way off there was another
building, fully as small but apparently somewhat better built.
"This here's the roost," announced Whipple, "an' it's where ye're ter
pass the rest o' the night. Come in, an' come peaceable."
It was part of Matt's plan, hastily formed on the air-ship just after
the girl had spoken to him, to accept passively whatever came his
way--at least for a time. The girl had said that she would help him
escape, and there was that about her which had awakened his confidence.
Not only that, but there was also something in the girl's face that
had aroused his sympathy. She had a history, he was sure, and one that
was far from pleasant.
There were five cots in the "roost," and Matt was told to lie down on
one of them.
"Harper used to sleep there," remarked Needham, as Matt stretched
himself out on the hard bed, "and the deuce only knows where poor old
Harper is now. You're taking his place, King, and so it's only right
you should have his cot."
It was on Matt's tongue to say that Needham had another guess coming,
but he held his peace. He would not show too much of the hostile side
of his feelings until he had had a chance to talk with the girl.
"What's the use of tying me," expostulated Matt, as ropes were being
put in place around his wrists and ankles, "if it's impossible for me
to get away?"
"Orders," answered Whipple, curtly.
After Matt was made secure, Whipple and Needham went out of the
hut. The young motorist had had a trying day, and even his exciting
situation was powerless to keep the sleep from his eyes. He dozed off,
while his thoughts were trying to straighten out the queer tangle
in which events had bound him. He roused up for a moment when Pete,
Whipple, Needham and Grove came into the hut and dropped down on their
cots, but almost immediately he went to sleep again.
It seemed as though he had hardly closed his eyes the second time
before he was awakened by a light hand pressed upon his forehead. The
other cots in the room were empty, it was morning, and the girl was
standing beside him.
"I have brought your breakfast," said she, in a low voice. "We can talk
a little, but will have to be quick. Dad, or some of the men, may come
in here at any second! There's a lot that you've got to know, and----"
She was interrupted by the sharp explosion of a firearm outside.
Stifling a cry, she whirled from the cot and ran to the open door.