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MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING ADVENTURE
MOTOR FICTION
NO. 5 MAR. 27, 1909
FIVE CENTS
MOTOR MATT'S MYSTERY
OR FOILING A SECRET PLOT
"That's Motor Matt!" yelled the man in the automobile,"Get him, Spangler!"]
MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION
_Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered according toAct of Congress in the year 1909, in the Office of the Librarian ofCongress, Washington, D. C., by_ STREET & SMITH, _79-89 Seventh Avenue,New York, N. Y._
No. 5. NEW YORK, March 27, 1909. Price Five Cents.
Motor Matt's Mystery;
OR,
FOILING A SECRET PLOT.
By the author of "MOTOR MATT."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. A DUTCHMAN IN TROUBLE. CHAPTER II. THE RUNAWAY AUTO. CHAPTER III. THE MAN AT THE ROADSIDE. CHAPTER IV. THE MYSTERY DEEPENS. CHAPTER V. MATT GETS A JOB. CHAPTER VI. CONCERNING THE LETTER. CHAPTER VII. THE TWO HORSEMEN. CHAPTER VIII. ON THE ROAD. CHAPTER IX. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY. CHAPTER X. A SHIFT IN THE SITUATION. CHAPTER XI. A SURPRISE. CHAPTER XII. ESCAPE. CHAPTER XIII. THE HUT IN THE HILLS. CHAPTER XIV. BACK TO THE CAR. CHAPTER XV. A RACE AND A RUSE. CHAPTER XVI. IN ASH FORK. A YOUNG MARINER'S PERIL. SWANS CARRIED OVER NIAGARA FALLS. PARA RUBBER AND ITS GATHERING. QUEER CALIFORNIAN TRADERS. BURROWING FISHES. TURN RIVER TO MINE ITS BED.
CHARACTERS THAT APPEAR IN THIS STORY.
=Matt King=, concerning whom there has always been a mystery--a lad of splendid athletic abilities, and never-failing nerve, who has won for himself, among the boys of the Western town, the popular name of "Mile-a-minute Matt."
=Carl Pretzel=, a cheerful and rollicking German lad, who is led by a fortunate accident to hook up with Motor Matt in double harness.
=James Q. Tomlinson=, the jeweler from Denver, who seems to have troubles of his own, and about whose identity there is more or less confusion.
=Trymore=, } a trio of sporting gentlemen who believe in hunting big =Hank=, } game, and who consider themselves experts in the line =Spangler=,} of choice gems.
=Pringle=, once honest Carl's pardner in vaudeville, but latterly engaged in a far less honorable business.
=Gregory=, a chauffeur.
=Hop Loo=, } =Charley Sing=,} the two eccentric laundrymen of Ash Fork.
CHAPTER I.
A DUTCHMAN IN TROUBLE.
Whiz, bang!
"Dutchee boy no good! Have gotee mon, no makee pay. Whoosh! Allee samecheap skate!"
Whiz, _bang_, clatter, _bang_!
"Vat's der madder mit you, hey? You vas grazier as I can't tell! Pyshiminy grickets, oof you hit me mit a flad-iron I vill mad be as somehornets. Shtop a leedle, und I vill----"
There followed a wild yell, a pandemonium as though Bedlam had beenturned loose, and then a heavy fall and sudden quiet.
Motor Matt, just turning into the yard of a small adobe house, heardthe tremendous uproar and came to a startled halt.
Hop Loo, a Chinese laundryman, lived in the house, and Matt was justcoming after his week's wash.
Under a cotton-wood tree in the yard, some fifteen feet from the house,was a wash-tub mounted on a couple of chairs. Between the tree and acorner of the house, and running thence to a post set at right angleswith the adobe wall, was a line strung with clothes.
Charley Sing, who worked for Hop Loo, was at the tub, up to his elbowsin hot suds.
The racket in the house had claimed Charley's attention just as it hadcaught Matt's. Pulling his hands out of the wash-water, Charley driedthem on his kimono, jerked the wash-board out of the tub, and, holdingit by one leg for use as a weapon, stole toward the open door of theadobe.
Matt had been so situated that he could look into the house and catcha restricted view of what was going on. The thumping had been causedby flat-irons striking against the inner walls, each one being nimblydodged by a fat youth of decidedly odd appearance. Hop Loo, who wasironing, had shrilly piped his denunciation of the fat boy; the latterhad replied; and Hop Loo, failing to make a bull's-eye with theflat-iron, had sprung at the boy. The latter, with an astonishinglyquick move, considering his size, had grabbed a rack of ironedclothes and hurled it in Hop Loo's way. Thereupon Hop Loo had turneda somersault over the clothes, and was now standing on his head veryquietly in a wood-box.
"Meppy you t'ink I vas a Vandefeller, or Rockybilt," cried the fatboy, breaking the silence, "but you bet my life you got anodder guesscoming. You make me some drouples, by shinks, und I don'd like dot.Goot-py, Hob Loo! Sorry dot I can't vait undil you ged right-site-oop,aber I haf pitzness in some odder blaces, und vill broceed to fly mykite!"
The fat boy turned and wabbled through the door. Matt, now that he hada good look at him, began to laugh.
"Dutchman" was written all over the boy's face. He had a mop of carrotyhair, and on top of it was a little plaid cap that looked as though itwas lost in the wilderness. His ample dimensions were covered with asuit whose pattern consisted of a very "loud" plaid, and under the opencoat could be seen a crimson vest that made even more noise than therest of his apparel.
As this ponderous vision ambled through the door, it was met by CharleySing and the wash-board.
"Ged oudt oof my vay!" yelled the fat Dutch boy. "Oof you don'd, pyshiminy, somet'ing is going to take blace vat is nod on der pills."
Charley, grimly determined, whirled the wash-board and let drive withit. The strength he put into the blow caused the board to leave hishands. The Dutchman dropped, the wash-board flew over his head and hitHop Loo, who had up-ended himself and was just returning to the attack,in the pit of the stomach.
"Wow!" gurgled Hop Loo, catching his middle with both hands and doing awild dance in his straw sandals.
Charley Sing was now thoroughly aroused. Jabbering in frantic "pidgin,"he proceeded to make front on the Dutchman.
The latter, continuing to display his surprising agility, duckedsideways between Hop Loo and Charley Sing, and rushed in the directionof the cottonwood. Charley followed him with such speed that hispigtail stood straight out behind him, and the sandals flew right andleft from his rapidly moving feet.
The German boy circled around the wash-tub. Charley would have circled,too, only his toes caught in a wringer that was lying on the ground,and he pitched heavily against the chairs that held the tub.
A catastrophe followed.
The tub went down, and Charlie turned a handspring in the hot suds andcame up covered with foam and wet clothes.
"Whoosh!" he spluttered; "killee Dutchee boy! Allee same debble! Makeego topside!"
Falling over against the tree, he began clearing the soap-suds out ofhis eyes and throat. He looked like an animated drying-post, and theDutch boy, in spite of his troubles, began to haw-haw wildly.
By that time, however, Hop Loo had recovered his wind, grabbed up astick of stove-wood, and was bearing down on the fat Teuton with bloodin his eye.
The youth saw him coming, whirled, and ran into the clothes-line. Hisweight ripped the line from the tree and the house-corner, and when hewent on he carried it with him, the dried clothes flapping like so manydistress-signals.
Perhaps the boy traveled a dozen yards. At the end of that distance, hegot tangled in the rope, went down and rolled over and over, completelywrapping himself up in a choice as
sortment of laundry.
It is hard to tell what Hop Loo would have done when he came up withthat fluttering heap that was twisting and writhing on the ground. Hehad the stick of wood in his hand and much bitterness in his heart, butif he struck too hard he would make a bad matter worse by damaging someof the linen. Besides, when Hop Loo got ready to take revenge, Matt wasstanding between him and the helpless Dutchman.
"Easy there, Hop Loo!" cried Matt.
"You no stopee China boy!" howled Hop Loo, dancing all around Matt andtrying to get at the bundle. "Dutchee boy spoilee heap washee, makeeplenty tlouble. Me sendee topside, you bettee!"
Grabbing Hop Loo's waving arm, Matt deftly relieved the yellow fist ofthe billet of wood.
"Hold up, Hop Loo," said he soothingly; "let's get down to cases onthis thing and find out what's wrong."
"By jim' Klismus," shrilled Hop Loo, "he tly beatee China boy! No makeepay fo' launly! Kickee up plenty lumpus. No likee!"
"Vell, der olt rat-eader! I vas drying to tell him some t'ings und hevouldn't lis'en. He made me more drouples as you can guess, und pegandrowing me at all der flad-irons in der blace."
Matt looked around. The Dutch boy had managed to scramble to his feetand paw his head free of the clothes. A red undershirt was drapedgracefully over his right shoulder, and he was completely swathed inother garments and clothes-pins.
Matt grinned. The sight was too much for him.
"Meppy id's funny," said the Dutch boy, with a wink, "aber der Chinkain't enchoying himseluf so as any vone can nodice."
"Who are you?" asked Matt.
"Carl is der lapel vat I tote, Carl Pretzel."
"Do you owe the Chinaman money?"
"Vell, I vas pusted, und I vanted him to vait undil I get some chobs,und he got mad und pegun drowing t'ings. He vould haf drowed derkitchen stof ad me, only it vas hotter as he could hantle. My, my, vata grazy Chink id iss."
"How much does he owe you, Hop?" inquired Matt.
"Fittyfi' cent fo' launly," answered the Chinaman, "two dol' fo'spoilee clothes," and he waved a discouraged hand at the garments onthe ground and at the overturned wash-tub. "Two fittyfi', you savvy?Him one piecee bad Dutchee boy."
"How much is my laundry?" asked Matt.
"Fortyfi'."
"That makes three dollars," said Matt, pulling some money from hispocket. "Take it, Hop, and call the account square. Now run in and getCarl's laundry and mine while I'm getting him out of his tangle."
The three silver dollars soothed the Chinaman's injured feelings, andhe turned and vanished into the house.
"Say," cried Carl, "you vas a pooty goot feller! Vat's your name, hey?"
"Matt King."
"You lif in Ash Fork?"
"No; I'm just here waiting for a man I'm anxious to see."
"Vell, dot's my fix. I'm likevise vaitin' for a man dot I vant do seemit a club. He's aboudt my size, only not kevite so goot looging as me,und pigger oop an' down as I am der odder vay. His name iss Pringle. Hevas a pad egg, I tell you dot. Can you tell me vere dot feller iss?"
Matt shook his head.
"Never heard of him, Carl," he answered.
"Chonny Hartluck has been hitting me like anyt'ing," sighed Carl, asMatt stripped away the last of the clothes-line, "und you peen derfairest friendt I haf hat since I don'd know. Shake vonce."
Carl put out his hand, and Matt grasped it cordially.
"How you t'ink I efer pay you pack dot money, Matt?" asked Carl.
"I'm not thinking much about it, one way or the other," said Matt. "Nogreat loss, Carl, if you never pay it back."
"You vas a fine feller, und ve vill go some place und I vill tell yousomet'ing."
Just then Hop Loo showed himself with two bundles of laundry. Matt tookone, and Carl the other, and they left at once for the main part of thetown.
There was joy in the faces of Hop Loo and Charley Sing as the Dutchboy departed, and they immediately began bringing order out of theirdemoralized "plant."
When they were out of the yard, and bound along the road, Carl Pretzelthrew back his head and began to laugh.
"You seem to get a good deal of fun out of your troubles, Carl,"remarked Matt, who had developed a deep interest in his odd companion.
"Dot's me!" guffawed Carl. "Id iss easy to be jeerful ven luck iscomin' your vay, aber you bed you it takes a pooty goot feller to bejeerful ven it ain't. So dot's vy I laff mit meinseluf. I peen morejeerful now, schust pecause I vas blayin' in der vorst luck vat eferhabbened, und I bed you someding for nodding it ain't eferypody vatcould do dot. Now, oof I----"
Carl never finished his remark. The boys had been walking in the centerof the road, and Matt suddenly heard a sound behind them and almost ontheir heels.
"Look out!" he yelled, grabbing Carl by the arm and giving him a jerktoward the roadside.