Originally published: May 8, 1909
Genres: Adventure, Children's
Goodreads link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/199575849-motor-matt-s-daring-rescue-or-the-strange-case-of-helen-brady
Gutenberg link: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48252
Chapters: 16
Warning: This may include outdated and derogatory language and attitudes.
CHAPTER I
THE DISAPPEARANCE OF HELEN BRADY
"Your name King?"
"Yes."
"You de feller dey calls Motor Matt?"
"You've struck it."
"Chee! I seen yer mug in de poipers an' I t'ought yous must be de feller. I'm de kid wot woiks f'r Hagenmyer, an' here's a letter dat he told me t' give t' yous."
Motor Matt and Dick Ferral had been sunning themselves in front of the balloon house, a little way out of the town of South Chicago. A youngster of ten or eleven had climbed the roadside fence and made his way toward the big, shed-like building in the center of the swampy meadow. Of the two boys, the youngster had instinctively picked out Matt, had halted in front of him, and had started the foregoing colloquy. He finished by taking a letter out of his pocket and passing it over to the young motorist.
"Yous has been doin' a lot o' t'ings here in dis little ole burg," grinned the youngster, as he started back toward the road, "an' I wants t' go on record as sayin' yous is Class A, an' all t' de good."
"Much obliged," laughed Matt.
The kid from Hagenmyer's waved his hand, then turned around and made his way briskly toward the fence.
"Who's this Hagenmyer, mate?" queried Ferral, drawing closer to his chum and looking at the latter curiously.
"He's the fellow that bought this balloon house from Brady," explained Matt. "That was before the police found out that Brady was a thief, but Brady knew the discovery was coming, so he got rid of everything he owned in South Chicago."
"What business has Hagenmyer got with you?"
"We'll know in a minute, Dick."
Matt tore off the end of the envelope and pulled out the enclosed sheet. He gave a low whistle as he read; then, after he had finished, he passed the letter over to Ferral. The communication ran as follows:
"Motor Matt: My workmen will begin tearing down the balloon house tomorrow morning. It will be necessary, therefore, for you to remove your airship sometime this afternoon or tonight." Isidore Hagenmyer."
A look of satisfaction crossed Ferral's face.
"That means we've got to trip anchor and bear away," said he. "I'm not sorry. We've been hung up here for two weeks, old ship, and what good has it done us?"
"Not much, that's a fact," answered Matt discontentedly. "Hagenmyer has held off on tearing down the balloon house for that length of time, just to give us a safe place to keep the Hawk. We can't blame him for getting busy on the old shed tomorrow morning."
"Well, our movable canvas shelter is ready, and stowed in the car. We can use that, now that the shed is to be taken away from us."
"The canvas is not a safe shelter, by any means, Dick."
"It's the only one we can use on our flight from here to New York. You won't try to stay here any longer, will you?"
"I hate to leave without learning something about Helen Brady. That girl has done a lot for us, pard, and it looks kind of heartless for us to pull out without doing what we can to settle the mystery of her disappearance."
"But what can we do, mate, if the detectives are all aback and not able to find a trace of her? Miss Brady went to visit friends on Archer Avenue, Chicago; she was there three days while her father, Hector Brady, was being tried and railroaded to the penitentiary; then, the fourth day after Miss Brady went to Archer Avenue, she suddenly vanished, and not a trace of her can be found. No matter how you overhaul the situation, it's queer, and I'm inclined to think that the girl's brother, Hector Brady, Jr., has spirited her away. Either that or else the girl went away with the brother of her own free will. If Brady, Jr. is mixed up in this, matey, what right have we got to interfere? Looks like a family affair."
Although Matt's brow wrinkled perplexedly, yet his eyes gleamed resolutely, as he replied:
"We know young Brady is a crook, just like his father, Dick, and if there wasn't something wrong, Helen would not have left her friends without giving some explanation. I don't care whether Brady, Jr. is mixed up in the affair or not, I intend to discover what's happened and to give the girl help if she needs it. If it hadn't been for Helen, you and I would never have been able to chase Brady, Sr. over into Michigan, capture him, and get our airship back. We mustn't forget what we owe Helen Brady, and that she's entitled to our aid if she needs it."
"Right-o, messmate!" returned Ferral heartily. "The girl helped us get back the Hawk, but that's the least of what she did. If it hadn't been for her, the pair of us would have gone to Davy Jones, right here in this old balloon house. I'm for doing everything we can for her, but if the police can't do anything, I don't see where we come in."
Matt was gloomily silent for a little while, turning his helplessness over and over in his mind.
"Well, Dick," he finally answered, "something may turn up."
"But we can't wait for it. Hagenmyer will be jerking the old shed down over our heads if we don't slant away sometime between this and morning."
"I'm hoping that telegram from the Lestrange people may result in something. That letter they have for me may be from Helen Brady."
Matt took the message from his pocket and read it over again. It was from the people for whom he had been driving a racing automobile and had been received about eleven o'clock that morning. It merely stated that they had received a letter for Matt, that it was marked "important," and that they would hold it until Matt told them what to do with it. The young motorist had immediately sent his Dutch pard, Carl Pretzel, to Chicago after the letter.
"Perhaps you're right, matey," said Ferral. "Anyhow, we'll know as soon as Carl gets back. He ought to be here by eight bells of the afternoon watch. Hello!" and here Ferral's eyes wandered to the road, "who's that steering this way? He's coming full and by, and seems to be in a hurry."
Matt stared in the direction indicated by his chum. Carl had not had time to get to Chicago and back, so he knew it could not be him.
As the hurrying figure drew closer and became more distinct, it resolved itself into the form of a man in blue and brass buttons.
"Harris!" exclaimed Matt.
"That's right!" agreed Ferral excitedly; "Harris or I'm a Fiji! He's got something mighty important stowed away in his locker, or he wouldn't be bearing down on us at that gait."
Harris was a member of the South Chicago police force and was a good friend of Motor Matt.
"Perhaps he's got something to tell us about Helen Brady!" cried Matt, starting up. "If he has, then the news couldn't come at a better time."
While Harris was climbing the fence, both boys started across the swampy ground to meet him.
"Howdy, Matt!" called the officer, jerking a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his perspiring face. "Hello, Ferral. Pretty hot day for a fast walk, and I didn't let any grass grow under me."
"What's the trouble, Harris?" queried Matt.
"There's plenty, I'm telling you. I guess we'll have to put another detail of officers on guard at this balloon house; if we don't, you lads are liable to get done up and lose the Hawk."
"How's that?" demanded Ferral.
"Why, that pesky Brady has escaped from the 'pen' at Joliet, and—"
"Escaped?" echoed Matt.
"Well, sink me!" exclaimed Ferral. "Why, he made his brags that the 'pen' couldn't hold him."
"That fellow's as slippery as an eel," went on Harris. "He's been at large for two days, and the prison authorities have kept it quiet, hoping they'd be able to bag him; but they failed to catch him, and now it's got into the papers. I wonder if you understand what that means to you, Matt?" and here the officer fixed a significant look on the young motorist.
"Brady swore he'd get even with Matt," spoke up Ferral.
"That's it," said Harris, "and he's the sort of fellow that don't say things just to hear himself talk. He's been out of the 'pen' two days, and I'd like to bet something handsome he's been thinking of Motor Matt and the airship ever since he got clear of the stone walls and the iron bars. I rushed out here as soon as I could, to warn you, boys, to look out for yourselves, and for the Hawk."
"Brady will have enough to do keeping his liberty," remarked Matt; "he won't have any time to bother with me."
"That's where you're wrong, Matt, according to my notion. You know how anxious Brady has been, every time the law got after him, to get hold of the airship. With the Hawk, he can snap his fingers at all the detectives and police officers, and it's a cinch he'll come this way. Some of the rest of the gang may be helping him. You know Pete, Whipple, Grove, and Brady, Jr. are still at large. You don't want to have another balloon-house plot worked on you, so I think you lads had better pull out, and go east if that's where you're headed for."
"But I don't want to leave until I can learn something about Helen Brady!" protested Matt.
"You can't help the girl any," continued Harris. "Who knows but some of her father's gang are mixed up in her disappearance? If it comes to that, who knows but the girl is with her father now? You can't afford to have any more dealings with that gang, Matt. Besides, you owe it to the authorities to take the Hawk where there won't be any possibility of Brady's getting hands on her. If he gets the Hawk, he'll never be captured; if he doesn't get the airship, he can't possibly keep from getting laid by the heels."
The officer's position was logical. Matt's disappointment on Helen Brady's account was keen, but events seemed to be shaping themselves so that he and his friends would have to leave South Chicago that afternoon, whether they wanted to or not.
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