Originally published: Aug. 14, 1909
Genres: Adventure, Children's
Goodreads link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/200518055-motor-matt-s-reverse-or-caught-in-a-losing-cause
Gutenberg link: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51343
Chapters: 16
Warning: This may include outdated and derogatory language and attitudes.
CHAPTER I
PLOTTERS THREE
"There's no use talkin', Siwash," and Pecos Jones leaned disgustedly back against the earth wall of the dugout; "he's got one o' these here charmed lives, that feller has, and it ain't no manner o' use tryin' to down him."
Siwash Charley was cramming tobacco into the bowl of a black pipe. He halted operations long enough to give his companion an angry look out from under his thick brows.
"Oh, ye're the limit, Pecos!" he grunted, drawing a match across the top of the table and trailing the flame over the pipe bowl. "The cub's human, an' I ain't never yet seen a human bein' that couldn't be downed—purvidin' ye went about it right."
Pecos Jones scowled discontentedly.
"Then I opine," said he, "ye ain't got sense enough to know how to go about it. That last attempt at Fort Totten wasn't nothin' more'n a flash in the pan. What did ye accomplish, huh? Tell me that. Here y' are, holed up in this dugout an' not darin' to show yer face where it'll be seen an' reckernized. The sojers want ye, an' they want ye bad. Ye come purty nigh doin' up a leftenant o' the army, an' that's why the milingtary is on yer trail, but if they knowed as much o' yer hist'ry as I do, they'd be arter ye a lot worse'n what they—"
"Stow it!" roared Siwash Charley, leaning toward his companion and bringing a fist down on the table with force enough to make the flame leap upward in the chimney of the tin lamp. "Ye'll hush arbout my past hist'ry, Jones, or thar'll be doin's between you an' me."
The place where this conversation was going forward was a hole in the hillside—an excavation consisting of a single room with a door and a window in the front wall. A shelf of earth running around three walls offered a place to sit, as well as a convenient ledge for the stowage of food supplies and cooking utensils.
The window was darkened with a blanket so that the light would not shine through and acquaint any chance passers with the fact that the interior of the hill was occupied.
Pecos Jones was a little ferret of a man. His face had "undesirable citizen" written all over it.
Siwash Charley was larger, and on the principle that there can be more villain in a large package than in a small one, Siwash was the more undesirable of the two.
He banged the table and scowled so savagely that Pecos Jones pulled himself together with a startled jerk. Before he could say anything, however, a set of knuckles drummed on the door.
Pecos gasped, and stared in affright at Siwash. The latter muttered under his breath, grabbed up a revolver that was lying on the table, and stepped to the door.
"Who's thar?" he demanded huskily.
"Murg," came a muffled reply from the other side of the door.
Siwash laughed, shoved a bolt, and pulled the door wide.
"Come in, Murg," said he. "I was sorter expectin' ye."
A smooth-faced man, wearing gauntlets, a long automobile coat, and goggles pushed up above the visor of his cap, stepped into the room. He carried a rifle over his arm, and for a moment he stood blinking in the yellow lamplight.
Siwash Charley closed the door.
"Got yer ottermobill fixin's on, eh?" said he, facing about after the door had been bolted; "an' by jings, if ye ain't totin' of er Winchester. Them fellers at Totten arter you, too, Murg?"
Murgatroyd's little, gimlet-like eyes were becoming used to the lamplight. They shot a reproving glance at Siwash, then darted to Pecos Jones.
"Who's that?" he asked curtly.
"Him?" chuckled Siwash. "Oh, he's the Artful Dodger. I reckon he does more dodgin' across the international boundary line than ary other feller in the Northwest. Whenever things git too hot fer Pecos Jones in North Dakotay, he dodges inter Manitoby and vicer verser. Hoss stealin' is his line."
"Never stole a hoss in my life!" bridled Pecos Jones.
"Thunder!" snickered Siwash. "Why, I've helped ye."
"How does Pecos Jones happen to be here?" demanded Murgatroyd.
"He got ter know this place o' mine while we was workin' tergether. Arter that flyin' machine was tried out at Fort Totten, o' course I had ter slope ter some quiet spot whar I could go inter retirement, an' this ole hang-out nacherly suggested itself. When I blowed in hyer, lo! an' behold, hyer was Pecos."
Murgatroyd appeared satisfied. Standing his rifle in one corner, he pulled off his gauntlets and thrust them in his pockets, sat down on the earth shelf, and hooked up one knee between his hands. For a while, he sat regarding Siwash reflectively.
"Is Pecos Jones known at Fort Totten?" he asked.
"Bet yer life I ain't," said Pecos for himself. "What's more," he added, nibbling at a slab of tobacco, "I don't want ter be."
"He works mostly around Turtle Mounting," explained Siwash Charley. "Why?"
"I think he can be useful to us," answered Murgatroyd. "Those other two fellows who helped you at Totten—where are they, Siwash?"
"They was nigh skeered ter death, an' made a beeline fer Winnipeg."
"That was a bad bobble you made at Totten," resumed Murgatroyd. "Motor Matt, in spite of you, put Traquair's aëroplane through its paces, met the government's requirements in every particular, and the machine was sold to the war department for fifteen thousand dollars."
"Things didn't work right," growled Siwash. "I tampered with that thar machine the night before the trials—loosened bolts an' screws an' filed through the wire guy ropes—but nothin' happened till the flyin' machine was done sailin' an' ready ter come down; then that cub, Motor Matt, got in some lightnin' headwork an' saved the machine, saved himself, an' likewise that there Leftenant Cameron of the Signal Corps."
"The boy's got a charmed life, I tell ye," insisted Pecos Jones. "I've heerd talk, up around Turtle Mounting, about what he's done."
"Think of a full-grown man like Pecos Jones talkin' that-a-way!" exclaimed Siwash derisively.
"Motor Matt is clever," said Murgatroyd musingly, "and I made a mistake in sizing him up. But there's a way to get him."
"What do you want to 'get' him fer?" inquired Pecos Jones.
Murgatroyd drew three gold pieces from his pocket and laid them in a little stack on the table, just within the glint of the lamplight.
"Pecos Jones," said he, "Siwash, here, has vouched for you. In the little game I'm about to play we need help. You can either take that money and obey orders, or leave it and get out."
There was a silence, while Pecos eyed the gold greedily. After a little reflection, he brushed the coins from the table and dropped them clinking into his pocket.
"I'm with ye," said he. "What's wanted?"
"That's the talk," approved Murgatroyd. "Our plans failed at the aëroplane trials, but I've got another scheme which I am sure will win. You know, Siwash, and perhaps Pecos knows it as well, that Motor Matt was demonstrating that aëroplane for Mrs. Traquair, who lives in Jamestown. Motor Matt came meddling with the business which I had with the woman, and the fifteen thousand, paid by the government for the aëroplane, was divided between Mrs. Traquair and Matt. Half—"
"We know all that," cut in Siwash.
"Well, then, here's something you don't know. Mrs. Traquair has a quarter section of land near here, on which her husband borrowed one thousand dollars of me while perfecting his aëroplane. After Traquair was killed by a fall with his flying machine, I felt sure I could get that quarter section of land on the mortgage. Now Motor Matt, by helping Mrs. Traquair, has made it possible for her to pay off the mortgage. She hasn't done it yet, because I haven't been in Jamestown since your failure to wreck the aëroplane at Fort Totten. I've been traveling around in my automobile with my niece, who is in poor health. She is in Sykestown now, while I am making this night trip out here. I visited this place once before, you remember, and I kept its location so well in mind that I was able to find it without much trouble. I felt fairly certain, Siwash, that you would be here, so—"
"Well, what's your scheme?" interrupted Siwash Charley.
"I'm getting to that," went on Murgatroyd. "Motor Matt and his friend Joe McGlory, together with the Chinese boy, Ping Pong, have been at Fort Totten ever since the aëroplane was sold to the government. The war department will take another of the Traquair aëroplanes at the same price paid for this one in case it can be finished and delivered by the first of the month, in time to go to Washington for trials of dirigible balloons and other devices at Fort Myer. Motor Matt is building an aëroplane for this order, and it is nearly completed. I don't care anything about that. What concerns me is that quarter section of land. For reasons of my own, I want it—and I am going to have it, if not in one way, then in another."
"What's yer scheme?" asked Siwash Charley impatiently.
"My scheme is to give Motor Matt such a reverse that Mrs. Traquair will have to come to his rescue and buy his safety with the quarter section."
"Ye never kin do it!"
"I believe that I can." Murgatroyd took a letter from his pocket and laid it on the table. "That," said he, nodding toward the letter, "is to be delivered to Motor Matt at Fort Totten by Pecos Jones, and Jones is to tell a story which will run substantially like this."
Thereupon Murgatroyd entered into a more lengthened review of his crafty scheme, Siwash Charley's eyes gleaming exultantly as he proceeded.
"It's goin' ter win!" declared Siwash, thumping a fist down on the table to emphasize his declaration. "I've got ter saw off even with that young cub, an' I'm with ye, Murg, chaps, taps, an' latigoes! So's Pecos. Ye kin count on the two of us."
"Very good," responded Murgatroyd, getting up and drawing on his gauntlets. "Succeed in this, Siwash, and I'll not only secure the quarter section, but you and Pecos will get more money and, what's better, a promise from the government not to trouble you because of what happened at Fort Totten—or what's going to happen. You understand what you're going to do, so no more need be said. I'll get away before my absence from Sykestown arouses any remarks. So long."
The door closed, and presently the two in the dugout heard the muffled "chugging" of a distant motor car fading into silence in the direction of Sykestown.
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