BUYING THE "HAWK."
"An air ship's a hard thing to sell," observed Harris; "about as hard,
I should say, as a white elephant. Your offer, Jameson, is the best one
we've had, so far, and I shouldn't wonder if you'd get the Hawk. What
are you going to use her for?"
"For a pleasure craft," was the answer. "I'm a member of the Aëro Club
and I'm tired of just plain ballooning. I want to climb around through
the air wherever I take a notion, and not wherever the winds choose to
carry me."
"You won't make any mistake buying the Hawk at three thousand," said
Matt, a disappointed look on his face. "If I had that much to spare,
Mr. Jameson, you'd never get her."
"Vell, Matt," spoke up Carl, "oof you vant somepody to helup you oudt
mit more money, vy----"
Just then Carl caught an expressive look shot at him by Dick. The
sailor shook his head. Carl couldn't understand why he was saying more
than he ought to, but bit off his words.
Dick felt sure that if Jameson knew there was some one else to bid
over him, he would increase his bid, and run it up until it would be
impossible for Matt and Dick to consider the purchase.
Jameson was undoubtedly a man of wealth, and able to go any length in
gratifying his hobby for air ships. Matt, of course, did not know what
Ferral and Carl had at the back of their heads, for no mention had yet
been made of Ferral's desire to joint Matt in the purchase of the air
ship.
The return to South Chicago was quickly made, the wind being behind the
Hawk and helping her onward. The aëronauts descended at Brady's old
balloon house, in a swamp field in the outskirts of South Chicago. Two
police officers were constantly on guard at the balloon house to keep
anyone from tampering with the air ship.
After the craft had been safely stowed in its quarters, Matt, Carl,
Ferral, Harris, and Jameson set off toward town.
Carl and Ferral were in a sorry plight and in urgent need of dry
clothes and hats and shoes, but they were not thinking of their own
comfort. The danger of losing the air ship was causing them a vast
amount of worry.
"I'll take you fellows to a clothing store," said Matt, as they came
into the town, "and fix you out so you'll look respectable. Everybody
is looking at you as though you were a couple of freaks."
"Belay that--for awhile," returned Ferral. "Take us to a hotel, or
anywhere else where we can have a talk."
"You can talk better if you're in dry clothes," said Matt.
"Don'd you t'ink dot for a minid," palpitated Carl, with an
apprehensive look at Jameson.
The signs were plain enough to Matt that Ferral and Carl had something
they wanted to tell him. At the place where they left Harris to pursue
his way to police headquarters, Jameson likewise broke away.
"You'll hear from me sometime this afternoon, Harris," said Jameson,
"and when I come around I'll bring a certified check for three thousand
with me."
"You'll have to deal with the chief," answered Harris, "and he's acting
under instructions from the court. I suppose your offer will take the
Hawk, but I can't make any promises."
"People are not falling over themselves to buy the air ship," laughed
Jameson, "and I guess my offer is the best one you'll ever get. See you
later."
Matt took his chums to the hotel at which he had been stopping while in
South Chicago. As soon as Carl and Ferral got inside the hotel office,
they grabbed hold of Matt and hustled him toward some chairs in a
corner of the room where they could have a private talk.
"You fellows have got something on your minds," laughed Matt. "I've
seen that for quite a while. What is it?"
"How'd you like to own the Hawk yourself, mate?" asked Ferral.
"I'd like it fine," answered Matt, his gray eyes brightening. "If I had
more money than I knew what to do with, I'd buy the Hawk just to play
with it."
"Jameson offers three thousand," went on Ferral. "If you and I offered
thirty-five hundred, and hustled the deal right through before Jameson
had a chance to overbid us, we'd get the old flugee, eh?"
"Sure!" said Matt. "But where's the thirty-five hundred to come from?"
"Well, I've got two thousand damp dollars in this roll. If you can
scrape up the other fifteen hundred, pard, we'll go halvers on the buy
and own the Hawk together."
Matt started forward in his chair. No one knew how Motor Matt longed
to own that air ship. Carl thought he knew, but he didn't. It was a
passion with Matt, almost a mania, but he had held it under control by
his iron will.
Matt had his way to make in the world, and what little money he had in
the bank had come by hard knocks. Would it be wise to put it into such
a thing as an air ship?
"You've got a wealthy uncle, Dick," said the young motorist, "and I
don't suppose he cares a picayune what you do with your money. But it's
different with me. I've got to invest what little capital I have where
it will bring returns."
"It vill pring redurns oof you pud der money in der air ship, Matt,"
fluttered Carl. "You can make ascensions at shtate fairs, und a lod oof
t'ings like dot."
"And maybe we can sell the Hawk, when we are through with her," put in
Ferral, "to the United States government for a whole lot more than we
paid for her.
"Und oof der gofermendt don'd vant der Hawk," said Carl, "den meppy you
can sell her py some feller like Chameson for more as you pay."
"Keelhaul me!" exclaimed Ferral, struck by a sudden thought. "They're
offering all kinds of prizes now for air-ship flights. We can get into
some of them, mate, and make more money than we ever dreamed of! Come,
old ship! Don't look as though you'd lost half a sovereign and found a
sixpence. Say the word and we'll go navigating the sky for all there
is in it. It's a first-chop game, you take it from me."
"I thought you were going to Quebec?" queried Matt, with a twinkle in
his eyes.
"That's where I was bound for, but it makes no odds how long it takes
me to get to the place. Besides, when I'm ready to pull out for the
River St. Lawrence and the gulf, why can't I sail there in the Hawk?"
Matt was thoughtful. It was not his habit to jump into any new
undertaking blindly, and there was something mighty alluring about this
air-ship proposition.
"I'll have to give up my job with the Lestrange people," said he, "and
there's a future to that."
"Future?" repeated Ferral. "Aye, mate, there's a prospect that you'll
go into a smash, one of these days, and break your neck. Racing an
automobile is risky business."
"Maybe it's not so dangerous as running an air ship, at that," laughed
the young motorist.
"Vell, anyhow," said Carl, "you don'd make some collisions in a air
ship oxcept mit der clouds. Air ships ain'd so blendy like pubbles."
"I'll go you, Dick!" cried Matt suddenly, reaching out his hand to grab
Ferral's. "But," he added, "it will have to be an even thing. You put
in seventeen hundred and fifty and I'll put in the same amount. That
will make each of us a half owner."
"Three times three and a tiger!" exulted Ferral, pulling the roll
of bills out of his pocket and counting off the water-soaked notes.
"There's your seventeen hundred and fifty, matey," and he thrust the
money into his chum's hand; "now, slant away for the place where you
pay it over, and be sure you get ahead of Jameson."
"There's plenty of time for that," answered Matt, smiling at Ferral's
impatience. "Jameson said he would happen in on the chief sometime
during the afternoon. Why, it wasn't more than a half hour ago that we
left him."
"A whole lod oof t'ings can habben in haluf oof an hour," said Carl.
"Go on, bard, und finish oop der teal. I von't be easy in my mindt
ondil I know dot you und Ferral own der Hawk. Himmelblitzen, vat a
habbiness dot vill be. Captain Matt, oof you blease, oof der air ship
Hawk, sailing from eferyvere und going der same blace. Hoop-a-la! I vas
so gay mit meinseluf as I don'd know. Be jeerful, be jeerful!"
With that, Carl jumped up and began a war dance around the office. He
looked like a crazy man, shoeless and hatless, and with his tow hair
standing out all over his head like an albino's.
Ferral was every whit as delighted over the prospect as was Carl.
He had to do a little jubilating himself, so he got up and began a
hornpipe.
"I'll get out of here," laughed Matt, starting for the door, "before
you fellows are pinched for escaped lunatics. If I was around, the
officers might nab me, too. Get some decent clothes while I'm away."
With that, he started for the office of the chief of police. On his way
to headquarters, he passed a bank. Just before he reached the bank, he
saw Jameson come hastily out the front door and hurry to a cab that was
waiting beside the walk.
"Police headquarters," Matt heard Jameson call to the driver of the cab.
A suspicion darted through Matt's brain. Jameson, having secured his
certified check, was losing little time putting through his deal for
the Hawk. Had his remark about dropping in on the chief sometime during
afternoon been merely a "bluff"?
There was no other cab in sight, and several long blocks lay between
Matt and the chief's office. Jameson was bound to reach police
headquarters before Matt could possibly arrive there.
For a minute, Matt stood in front of the bank, racking his brains;
then, as a swift counterstroke came to him, he darted across the street
to a corner drug store.