INTO THE SWAMP.
Needham, Pete, Grove and Brady had not been long carrying out their
work of recovering the cached goods. They were returning from the edge
of the bushy timber, ascending the slight elevation of the "island" on
their way to the Hawk, each bearing an armful of plunder.
In his stealings, Brady had not bothered with bulky articles but had
confined himself to "lifting" smaller and richer loot. The stuff was
all in small sacks.
As the men walked past the "roost" on their course to the air-ship,
Matt and the girl withdrew from the door to avoid being seen. Through a
crack in the wall, however, they were able to keep close track of what
went on.
On reaching the Hawk, the bundles were deposited on the ground.
Whipple, leaning on his rifle, stood watching while the bags were
heaped up at the side of the air-ship.
For a few moments the villainous crew had their heads together in close
and earnest conversation. Now and again their eyes were lifted aloft,
evidently on the alert for some sign of the Eagle. Brady, it could
be seen, did most of the talking. Suddenly, after a sharp scrutiny
overhead, Brady whirled around and started for the hut.
"He's coming after you!" half sobbed the girl.
"What's the reason I can't escape through that window in the rear
wall," asked Matt, hurriedly, "and take refuge in the swamp?"
The idea seemed to electrify the girl.
"I hadn't thought of that," she whispered, catching his arm and
starting for the window. "The back of the hut is close to the trees and
bushes on this side of the island, and I know something about the reefs
of dry ground running through the swamp in the vicinity of this place.
Come!" she added; "we must hurry."
Her despair had vanished in a flash, and her steadiness and resolution
had all come back. She climbed through the window and, as Matt
followed, she was picking up a small bag that had stood close to the
rear wall.
Without speaking, and once more clasping his arm, she hurried him into
the tangled bushes that came up to within a few feet of the hut. There,
screened by a dense thicket, they paused to note further developments.
Their position, of course, rendered it impossible for them to see the
front of the hut, but they were so close they could hear Brady's oath
of astonishment and alarm when he discovered that Matt was missing.
The next moment Brady could be seen rushing around the side of the hut
and a little way in the direction of the group standing beside the Hawk.
"He's gone!" roared Brady. "The cub's got loose and skipped!"
The rest were roused into frantic activity.
"I'll sw'ar he didn't git out while I was watchin' the Hawk," cried
Whipple. "Anyways, he can't be fur off."
"Hustle around!" fumed Brady. "Get into the swamp, every man-jack of
you, and find that whelp wherever he is. I wouldn't have him get clear
for a thousand, cold!" All the gang forthwith became exceedingly busy.
They darted off in various directions, and Brady himself, accompanied
by Grove, started for the side of the island from which Matt and the
girl were watching.
"We'll have to get away from here!" breathed the girl, turning. "Follow
me, Matt, and be careful where you step. If you're not careful, you may
find yourself mired in the swamp."
"Trust me for that," answered Matt. "I'll carry this," he added, taking
the bag from the girl's hands.
The swamp, into which they were now headed, presented a matted tangle
of undergrowth growing among the trees. Through the bushes could be
seen a glimmer of stagnant water, and the whole place seemed as dank
and loathsome as a tropical jungle.
The girl picked her way carefully, parting the bushes ahead of her and
stepping from hummock to hummock. Finally they reached a little bare
uplift of dry earth, and halted to listen. They could hear nothing of
pursuit, and the girl drew a long breath of relief.
"Dad don't know that I've explored this swamp," said she. "I have lived
on the island for nearly six months--dad used to keep me here while he
was doing his thieving in South Chicago, so I wouldn't be able to tell
what I know and give him away, I guess."
She sank down on the flat piece of turf for a few moments' rest. The
ground, although dry, shivered under them as they moved, and seemed
every moment as though about to give way beneath their weight and let
them down into the morass.
"This is a treacherous-looking place," remarked Matt, peering off into
the trees and bushes that hemmed them in on every side.
"It's all of that," replied the girl.
"It would be easy for a person to get lost."
"Not easy for me, as I know it too well."
"If I can get away in the Hawk," went on Matt, after a brief silence,
"this will make it necessary for you to go with me."
"Why?" she queried, lifting her wide, dark eyes to his.
"Can't you understand? Your father and his men will discover that you
are not on the island, and they will suspect that you helped me out of
the hut. What will your father do when he finds that out?"
A shiver swept through the girl's slight form.
"I suppose he will half kill me," she answered. "But I shall stay with
him. I am his daughter, and it's my duty to be with him to the end."
"You mustn't be foolish," said Matt, inclined to get out of patience.
"You're carrying your idea of duty to your father altogether too far."
"I've thought it all out," she answered firmly, "and my mind is made
up. Please don't try to argue with me. It may not be possible for you
to get away in the air-ship now," she added, with a sigh of regret.
"If you can't, I will try and get you through the swamp. I don't know
anything about it, though, after we get a little away from the island."
"Then," proceeded Matt, not giving up his argument that Helen Brady
should go away with him, "your father will be madder than ever when he
finds out you have taken the goods stolen from Hartz & Greer."
"That's what I expect, but it's right that the stuff should be
returned. A person ought to have principles, Matt, and I don't think a
person amounts to much if he or she can't stand a little suffering on
account of their principles."
"That's right, too," muttered Matt.
"There's fifteen thousand dollars' worth of diamonds and jewelry in
that bag," Helen went on, "and Hartz & Greer have offered a reward of
twenty-five hundred to any one who will return the property."
"That money will go to you," said Matt, promptly. "It's right that it
should. Look at the risks you're taking to have it put into the hands
of its rightful owners again! Some time, Helen, you will be rid of your
father, and then the money will come handy."
She was gazing at him steadily, and there was something of rebuke in
her eyes.
"You don't mean that, Matt," said she, quietly.
"Why not?" he demanded.
"Would it be right for me to take a reward for returning property my
own father had stolen?"
Matt was amazed by the simple directness of the girl's reasoning.
And she was right, entirely right. Nevertheless it took one of fine
character to reason and to act as the girl was doing.
"If you succeed in getting away with the bag," Helen continued, "I want
you to give it back to the rightful owners. Tell them it comes from
Hector Brady's daughter, and that she hopes they will not be too hard
on her father."
"You bet I'll tell them," said Matt. "What's more, I'll get through
this swamp on foot, if I have to, and I'll consider it a mighty fine
thing to lug the bag along and turn it over to Hartz & Greer."
"I felt sure you'd help me," murmured the girl. "There was something in
your face that told me you could be depended on the moment I looked at
you at the door of that Hoyne Street house."
"Then the impression was mutual," said Matt. "If I hadn't read honesty
in your face, along with a desire to help me, I'd have made a rush out
of that room in the Hoyne Street place the moment I read your warning
on the fly leaf of the book."
"It was well you didn't do that. You'd have been caught. Pete was
behind the window curtain all the time. That was why I had to write
what I wanted you to know, and call your attention to it indirectly. If
you had----"
The girl was interrupted by a distant rustle of bushes. Stifling the
words on her lips, she sprang erect.
"Dad's coming this way," she whispered. "I don't think he has the least
idea where we've gone, but he seems to be blundering in the right
direction. We'll have to hurry on."
Once more they resumed their flight, Matt carrying the bag and
carefully following in his companion's footsteps.
The way became increasingly difficult, and the bushes even denser than
they had been at the point where they had entered the swamp. Then, too,
the hummocks which offered them foothold became farther apart so that
it was necessary to leap almost blindly through the brush in getting
from one to another.
Occasionally they halted and listened, but were unable to hear any
sound behind them to indicate that Brady and Grove were still on the
right track.
Just as Matt was congratulating himself that they had again eluded
their pursuers, a cry from the girl, muffled but full of distress,
reached him.
Between him and her a screen of bushes intervened, and the cry had come
a moment after she had taken a headlong plunge through the leafy tangle.
Not knowing what could have happened, and fearing the worst, Matt
shifted the bag to his other arm, drew his leather cap well down over
his forehead so that the visor would protect his eyes, and leaped
boldly after the girl.
By good luck, rather than by any calculation on his part, he landed on
a shaking hummock, and found that Helen had plunged into the watery
morass.
Dropping the bag, he reached down, grasped her about the waist and
dragged her from the clutching grip of the swamp.
"We'll have to go back," were the girl's first words, as he held her on
the narrow foothold.
"Why?" he asked.
She waved her hand in the direction toward which they were going.
An open space, clear of trees and bushes, lay before them--a veritable
quagmire with not a place in all its extent where they could set their
feet.
They would have to go back! With Brady and Grove on one side of them,
and this impassable bog on the other, it looked as though they had been
caught between two fires.