CHAPTER II.
THE MOVING-PICTURE MAN MAKES A QUEER MOVE.
A little farther along the beach, and well out of the way of hightide, four heavy posts had been planted in the sand. This was themooring-place for the "Hawk," the famous air ship belonging to Matt andDick Ferral, and which the three chums had brought from South Chicago.
The boys had had the Hawk in Atlantic City for two weeks, making fourflights every day except on Sunday, or on days when high winds orstormy weather prevailed. There had been only one stormy day when ithad been found necessary to house the Hawk under the roof of one of thepiers, and only one other day when the wind had been so strong as tomake an ascent too risky.
Four passengers were carried aloft in each flight. Six persons were allMatt thought advisable to take up in the air ship, and of course hehad to go along to take charge of the motor, and with him went eitherDick or Carl to act as lookout and "crew." A charge of $25 was made foreach passenger, and the flights had so captured the fancy of wealthyresorters that the boys had advance "bookings" that promised to keepthem in Atlantic City all the summer. With $400 a day coming in, and avery small outgo for expenses, the chums were making money hand overfist.
On the afternoon when Carl was taking his dip in the ocean, andincidentally spoiling films for the moving-picture people, Matt andDick, with their usual four passengers, had been making their lastflight of the day over Absecon Island and the eastern coast of NewJersey.
One of the passengers on that trip was a Mr. Archibald Townsend, ofPhiladelphia. Passengers always showed a great interest in the airship, but Mr. Townsend had shown more curiosity and had asked morequestions than any of the others.
As Matt and Dick were bringing the Hawk down to the beach, they hadwitnessed the overturning of the Italian's "red-hot" outfit, and hadseen Carl get clear of the wreck and race on toward the steel pier.Leaving Dick to make the air ship secure in her berth, Matt had tumbledout of the car and hurried after Carl. As we have already seen, theyoung motorist reached his Dutch chum just as the officer had laid holdof him.
The officer's name was McMillan, and he was arrogant and officious toa degree. He had been on duty along that part of the board walk eversince the chums had reached Atlantic City, and he had interfered withtheir operations to such an extent that Matt had found it necessary,on one occasion, to report him. On this account, McMillan was not veryamiably disposed toward the young motorist and his friends.
"I don't care who this fellow is," growled the officer, nodding hishead toward Carl, "no one can come here an' raise hob on the beachwithout bein' jugged for it. I saw what happened. The Dutchman knockedover the dago's cart."
"Dot feller," and here Carl pointed to the moving-picture man, "set derdog on me. Oof I hatn't knocked ofer der cart, der dog vould haf got mesure. Vat pitzness he got setting der dog on me, hey? He iss to plame,yah, dot's righdt."
"What did you want to butt into our picture for?" demanded thephotographer.
"How I know you vas daking some mooting bictures?" demanded Carl. "Isee dot young laty on der peach, und she vas in some greadt drouples;den I see dem birate fellers in der poat, going afder her, und nopodyvould run mit demselufs to der resgue. Den I go. You bed my life, nolaty vat iss in tisdress can be dot vay ven I vas aroundt."
"We'll have to do our work all over again to-morrow afternoon," went onthe moving-picture man, "and I have to pay these actors more money foranother afternoon's work."
"How much will that be?" asked Matt, who saw very clearly that Carl hadmade a mistake and was in the wrong.
"There are six of 'em," replied the photographer, "and I pay them tendollars apiece."
"That makes sixty dollars," said Matt, "and I'll----"
"Just a minute, King." It was Mr. Townsend who spoke. He had hurriedtoward the scene of the dispute and had arrived in time to hear themoving-picture man's explanation and Matt's offer to foot the bill."This fellow's name is Jurgens," continued Mr. Townsend. "He comes fromPhiladelphia, and I happen to know that he gives these actors fivedollars apiece for their work. If you give him just half of what heasks, King, you will be treating him fairly."
Jurgens glared at Townsend.
"What business have you got interfering here?" he asked, angrily.
"I am merely interfering in the interests of justice, that's all,"replied Townsend, coolly, "and because I think you an all-aroundscoundrel, Jurgens. You and I have had some dealings already, youremember."
A black scowl crossed Jurgens' face.
"And our dealings are not finished yet, by a long shot," returnedJurgens.
Townsend tossed his hands contemptuously and turned his back on thephotographer.
"I'll have my sixty dollars," cried Jurgens, to Matt, "or there'll betrouble."
"You'll take thirty," said Matt, taking some money from his pocket andoffering it, "and not a cent more."
Jurgens struck aside the hand fiercely.
"This dago is the boy that interests me," said the officer. "He's apoor man an' can't afford to have his stock in trade ruined by thatDutch lobster."
At this, Carl fired up.
"Who you vas galling a Dutch lopsder?" he demanded, moving truculentlyin the direction of McMillan.
"You!" snorted the officer, dropping a hand on his club.
Carl let fly with his fist. Matt grabbed the arm just in time tocounter the blow.
"That's your game is it?" growled McMillan, jerking the club from hisbelt. "I'll take care of you, my buck! Come along to the station withme!"
"Wait a minute, officer," said Matt. "Stop making a fool of yourself,Carl," he added to his Dutch chum. "You made a mistake at thestart-off, but that was no reason Jurgens should have set the dog onyou. As for the Italian," and here Matt faced the officer again, "I'llpay him for the damage he has suffered."
"Fifty cents will probably settle that," laughed Townsend, "so if youthrow him a five, King, he will be glad the accident happened."
One of the bank notes Jurgens had refused Matt now gave the Italian.His grieved look at once faded into an expansive grin, and he grabbedthe money, thanked Matt in explosive Italian and ran back toward hisoverturned cart.
"That lets the dago out," said the officer, grimly, "but it don't letthe Dutchman out, not by a jugful. He'll get a fine, and if Jurgenshere wants to prefer charges----"
"I do," snapped Jurgens. "If I don't get that sixty dollars I'll makeit hot for all these balloonists. That's the kind of a duck I am."
"I know what kind of a duck you are, Jurgens," said Townsend, sternly,"and if you know when you're well off, you'll leave Motor Matt and hisfriends alone."
"Sixty dollars," cried Jurgens, hotly, "and this gang can take it orleave it."
"You go with me," declared McMillan, twisting his left hand in thecollar of Carl's bathing suit.
"Nonsense, officer!" said Townsend. "You're making a mountain out of amolehill. Let the boy alone."
"I know my business," snarled the officer, "an' I don't have to havestrangers blow in here an' tell me what to do."
He took a step toward the board walk, jerking Carl along after him.
"I'm not a stranger in Atlantic City, officer," went on Townsend. "Infact, I'm very well acquainted with the chief of police here. Just asecond until I show you my card."
The potent name of the chief brought McMillan to a halt. He had beenreported once, and if a man who had influence reported him again, theremight be a vacancy in the force.
"All I want is to do what's right," he mumbled.
Townsend had reached into his pocket and drawn out a handful of papers.While he was going over them, looking for his professional card,Jurgens made a lightning-like move. It was a most peculiar move and,for a moment, took everybody by surprise.
Throwing himself forward, Jurgens snatched a long, folded paper fromamong those Townsend held in his hands. Quick as a wink Jurgenswhirled, dashed for the steps leading up to the board walk and was awaylike a deer.
"Stop him, officer!" shou
ted Townsend. "That's the kind of a man he is!Stop him!"
McMillan now saw that a real emergency confronted him. Releasing Carl,he rushed away on the trail of the thieving Jurgens.
Motor Matt, however, had kept his wits, and he was halfway to the stepsbefore the officer had started.
When the young motorist bounded to the board walk, Jurgens was tearingthrough the crowd.
"Stop, thief! Stop, thief!" yelled Matt.
There were so many people thronging that part of the board walk that itseemed an easy enough matter to halt the rascally photographer. Yet,strange as it may seem, this was not the case. Men, who were escortingladies and children, made haste to get them out of the way; others, whohad no one depending on them, seemed bewildered, and pushed out of theway to watch. Fortunately, another officer appeared on the other sideof the entrance to the pier and headed Jurgens off in that direction.
Turning to the left, Jurgens struck the ticket taker out of his pathand raced onto the pier.
Matt followed, not more than a dozen feet behind.
The concert was over and, at that moment, there were not many peopleon the pier, and Matt had a straight-away chase through the littlepavilions.
He felt sure that he would capture Jurgens, for when the thief reachedthe end of the pier, the Atlantic Ocean would cut short his flight andhe would have to turn back.
But in this Matt was mistaken. Jurgens did not run to the end of thepier but climbed over the rail at the side and dropped from sight. WhenMatt reached the rail, he saw that Jurgens had dropped into a rowboat,that had been tied to the piles, and was bending to the oars. Heshouted a taunting defiance at Matt as he continued to put a wideningstretch of water between them.
At once Matt thought of the Hawk. In less than five minutes he andFerral could be in the air, following the rowboat wherever it went.With the officers to watch the shore and perhaps pursue Jurgens inother boats, Matt felt positive that he and Dick would be able tooverhaul Jurgens if other means failed.
Without loss of a moment, he started back toward the board walk.