CHAPTER XVI.
CONCLUSION.
Doctors are not infallible, and the post doctor was no exception inthis respect. All his experience and skill in diagnosing the ills ofhumanity, made him certain that Prebbles was booked for the otherworld. But there was an error--and, more than likely, that error wasdue to the arrival of Newt, who, it will be remembered, the doctor hadwired it would be useless to send.
Prebbles was singing his Salvation Army hymns when Newt stepped intothe sick room. All night he was marching the streets, in his disorderedmind, pounding the cymbals and exhorting. Occasionally there creptinto the oral wanderings a reference to the young man watching at thebedside.
Most unexpectedly--most unaccountably, to the doctor--a lucid momentcame to Prebbles in the early morning. He saw his son, he recognizedhim, and he felt his handclasp. There was a smile on the old man's lipsas he drifted back into his sea of visions.
But, from that moment, there was a noticeable change. There seemed moreresisting power in the wasted body of the old clerk, as though hope forbetter things had grown up in him and was giving him strength.
To Matt, Newt Prebbles told what he knew about the accident to poorHarry Traquair.
Siwash Charley, under agreement with Murgatroyd, had tampered withTraquair's machine before the fatal flight, just as he had tamperedwith Matt's machine before the official trials at Fort Totten. ButTraquair had not been so fortunate as the king of the motor boys.
Newt had learned of this villainous work through Siwash Charley, andhad received from Siwash, at a time when the ruffian was under theinfluence of liquor, an incriminating note from the broker, signed withhis _alias_, "George Hobbes."
Prebbles had made use of this document, holding it over Murgatroyd'shead and extorting money from him on account of it.
This, of course, formed a sad commentary on the character of youngPrebbles. But Motor Matt, in "advancing the spark of friendship,"so played upon the facts in the case, and showed up the broker'sduplicity, that the old clerk's illness formed the turning point in hisson's career.
Such transformations are not so rare as it would seem.
Cameron, Matt, Ping, and Roscoe arrived at the post in the afternoonfollowing the arrival of Matt and young Prebbles. Murgatroyd, ofcourse, accompanied them.
Murgatroyd was tried, not on the Traquair charge, but on the laterone of conniving, with Siwash Charley, to injure the a?roplane at thegovernment trials, thus endangering the life, not only of Motor Matt,but of Lieutenant Cameron as well.
His sentence was commensurate with the evil he had attempted, and hefollowed Siwash Charley to the Leavenworth prison.
After a few days the post doctor was as certain Prebbles would recoveras he had been positive, at the time he sent his message to Cameron,that he had not many hours to live.
The reward paid by the government for the capture of Murgatroyd wasmade over to the old clerk. On this, he and his son were to begin lifeanew.
One of the first things Matt did, after reaching the post with NewtPrebbles, was to write to Mrs. Traquair, at Jamestown, settling amystery which had long puzzled every one who knew of Murgatroyd'sattempts to secure the Wells County homestead.
There was coal under the soil of the quarter-section, and the railroadcompany wanted it. That was the secret, and Mrs. Traquair profitedhandsomely by the knowledge of it.
The mortgage was paid, and the homestead passed into the hands of therailroad company.
In a country so barren of trees as North Dakota, coal is a valuablecommodity.
Matt still kept the a?roplane, and still persistently refused to put itin storage at the post, to be called for later.
"The _Comet_," said Matt, one evening when he and McGlory were againwith Cameron, "has got to earn something for Joe, and Ping, and myself."
"Ping comes in on the deal, does he?" laughed Cameron.
"Share and share alike with the rest of us," averred Matt. "ThatChinese boy is loyalty itself. Down in that shelter tent, below thepost trader's, he spends his nights and days watching the a?roplane."
"And talking to it, and singing about it, and burning rice-paperprayers to the heathen josses, asking them to keep it carefully andnot let it go broke while up in the air," put in McGlory. "Oh, he's afreak, that Ping boy; but, as Matt says, he's a mighty good sort of afreak at that. Look how he ran off with the rifles when we fooled theTin Cup punchers on the hill! And remember how he slammed that stonethrough the window when Murgatroyd had drawn a fine bead on me and wasabout to press the trigger. Share and share alike? Well, I should say."
"You're still determined to go into the show business, Matt?" askedCameron anxiously.
"I don't see why we shouldn't," said Matt. "Five hundred a week isn'tto be sneezed at. Joe's agreed, and so has Ping. When the firstfavorable day arrives, we're going to fly to Fargo."
Two days later the favorable moment was at hand. All the soldiers atthe post were out to witness the start, and even the gruff post traderwas present to say good-by to the king of the motor boys and hisfriends.
Matt's last call, at the post, was made on Prebbles. The old man waspractically out of danger, but his recovery would take time, and for along while yet he would have to remain in bed.
He was not able to say much, but what little he did say Matt consideredan ample reward for the strenuous adventures that had befallen him andhis chums on their flight to the upper Missouri.
Newt had become his sworn friend. Whenever Matt wanted any help, in anyway that was within Newt's power to grant, he was surely to call onyoung Prebbles.
When finally Motor Matt took his way down the post hill for the lasttime, he was in an exceedingly thoughtful mood.
He remembered when he had first come to Devil's Lake, knowing nothingabout a?roplanes, and had practiced with the _June Bug_ until he hadacquired the knack of flying the machine and had made good and sold themachine to the government for enough to give large profit to himselfand his friends, and, what pleased him most, to place Mrs. Traquairabove want.
He remembered, too, how he had sailed away alone into Wells Countyon a fool's errand, had become entangled in a losing cause, and hadexperienced a sharp reverse.
But, best of all, in his estimation, was the night journey back to thepost from the Missouri River, bringing Newt Prebbles to his father'sbedside.
Down into the cheering throng below the post trader's store went theking of the motor boys, shaking hands with every one he met, Indians,whites, or "breeds," receiving good wishes from all and heartilyreturning them.
For the last time the a?roplane was dragged from the shelter tent,given a strong start along the old familiar roadway, and then watchedas it climbed up and up into the air and winged swiftly eastward,carrying Motor Matt, and Joe McGlory, and Ping into untried venturesand fresh fields of endeavor.
THE END.