Chapter XIV: How the Trap Was Sprung

Matt remembered that Martin had said the New York man who owned the stolen car had sent telegrams and telephone messages all through the hills. Perhaps, if there was any wonderment to be indulged in, it should have been because McGlory had escaped the officers as long as he had.

The king of the motor boys opened the tonneau door and stood on the footboard, facing Banks.

"You've made a slight mistake, Mr. Banks," said Matt.

"From your point of view," answered the sheriff, "I guess maybe I have. There happens to be five hundred dollars in this for me an' Gridly, though, and we ain't takin' your word for it that there's a mistake. This car answers the description of the one that was stolen, right down to the number."

"This is the car, all right," proceeded Matt, "but we're not the fellows who stole it."

"Caught with the goods," jeered Gridly, "an' then deny the hull job! Nervy, but it won't wash."

"Where'd the car fall into your hands if you ain't the ones that stole it?" asked Banks.

"My chum, there, got it away from the thieves."

"Oh, that's what your chum did, eh?"

"You're to get five hundred dollars for recovering the car?" said Matt.

"_And_ capturin' the thieves," returned Banks.

"Was one of the thieves supposed to be a sailor with a green patch over one eye?"

Gridly and Banks must have experienced something of a shock. For a moment they gazed at each other.

"Somethin' _was_ said in that telegraft about a sailor with a green patch over one eye, Banks," observed Gridly.

"That's a fact," admitted Banks reflectively. "But we've got the car and there ain't no sailor with it. I guess that part of the telegram must have been a mistake."

"There's no mistake about it," said Matt. "We have captured the sailor, and he's at the farm of Mr. Boggs, here."

Matt drew to one side so the officers could see the farmer.

"Well, if it ain't Boggs!" exclaimed Banks, startled.

"Zeke Boggs an' his brindled bulldog!" added Gridly.

"What the young feller says is straight goods, Banks," declared the farmer. "The sailor with the patch over his eye is up to my place in the barn. Josi's watchin' 'im."

"What're you doin' here? That's what I want to know,' said Banks.

"Come out to help these young fellers spring a trap."

"What sort of a trap?"

"Why," put in Matt, "a trap to catch two pals of the sailor--one of them is the man who helped the sailor take this car from Martin's garage."

Banks helped himself to a chew of tobacco.

"Jest for the sake of bein' sociable, an' gettin' at the nub of this thing," he remarked, "you might tell us who you are, young feller, an' what you happen to be doing in this part of the hills?"

"My name's King, Matt King----"

"Otherwise," cut in McGlory, "Motor Matt. Maybe you've heard of Motor Matt?"

"I have," said Banks; "he's been doing things around Catskill for the last few days."

The sheriff passed his shrewd eyes over the king of the motor boys as he balanced himself on the footboard. There was nothing in the lad's appearance to indicate that he was not telling the truth.

"I'm not doubting your word at all, young feller," remarked Banks, "but I'll feel a lot more like believing you if you tell me about this trap you're arrangin' to spring."

Matt told how McGlory had run away from the pocket, and how Grattan and Pardo had followed him. He finished by describing the manner in which Grattan and Pardo were to be lured into the vicinity of the blue automobile and captured.

"That sounds like a play of Motor Matt's, right enough," said Gridly.

"Anyhow, I don't think it'll work," announced Banks.

"Why not?" asked Matt.

"You can't be sure Grattan and Pardo are follerin' the car; an', if they _are_ follerin', maybe they've got off the track."

"That's possible, of course; but the chances for success, though slight, are worth waiting and working for, don't you think? If the plan fails, we'll be out nothing but our time."

"Two boys, a farmer, an' a dog ain't enough to make the play if it should come to a showdown," declared Banks. "Gridly and I will be in on it, I guess. I'll take this machine up the road and tuck it away in the bushes, then I'll come back, an' Gridly an' I will crowd into the tonneau with the rest of you. If the game works, I'll be capturin' one of the men I'm arter; if it don't work, then, as you say, all we'll be out is a little time. I'll be back in a minute. Pull the crank, Gridly."

The roadster flashed up the road, and Matt could see Banks forcing the machine into the bushes at the roadside. In a little while the sheriff was back at the touring car.

"The back part of that machine will be a little crowded," said he, "but we'll have to stand it if we make the play you've laid out, Motor Matt."

"Suppose you and Gridly get into the tonneau," suggested Matt, "and leave Boggs, and me, and the dog to hide in the bushes at the edge of the marsh? We'll be close enough to help if anything happens, and won't interfere with you if you should have to work in a hurry."

There remained in the sheriff's mind a lingering suspicion that this idea was launched with some ulterior purpose in view, but a look into Motor Matt's face dispelled the unworthy thought.

"That's a good suggestion," said Banks. "Get in here with me, Gridly."

"You'd better turn the car around, Joe," went on Matt, as soon as the officers were in the car.

McGlory started the engine and threw on the reverse, backing the blue car until he had it headed the other way.

"Now we're ready for whatever's to come," said Banks.

"And it can't come too quick, either," supplemented Gridly.

Matt, Boggs, and the dog retired to the edge of the marsh and made themselves comfortable among the bushes.

The king of the motor boys was well pleased with the way the encounter with the sheriff had turned out. There had been, for a few moments, the promise of a serious complication, but Banks had proved reasonable and there was nothing more to worry about.

Matt's hope now was that Grattan and Pardo would fall into the trap that was laid for them. If they did, the motor boys' account with the unscrupulous Grattan would be settled for all time. They would always have some regrets on account of the poor old mandarin, but after they had looked carefully over the course of Sam Wing's flight, they would have done everything possible to help Tsan Ti.

"By gum," remarked Boggs, while he and Matt were waiting, "I never knowed yew was Motor Matt!"

"I didn't suppose you'd ever heard of Motor Matt, Mr. Boggs," answered the young motorist.

"I take a Gardenville paper, and that had a lot to say about what yew been doin' down to Catskill. Yew've given things quite a stirrin' up in that town. Is that fat chink the one that come from Chiny to get holt of the idol's eye?"

"He's the one."

"Well, I'm s'prised; I am, for a fact! Jest to think all this took place right on my farm! Josi' won't hardly know what to think, and the----"

"Quiet in there, pard!" came the low voice of McGlory. "They're coming."

"Grattan and Pardo?" returned Matt.

"Sure, and they walk as though they were tired. Now I've got to rustle around and pretend to be so busy I don't see 'em."

The cowboy opened the hood and fell to tinkering with the wrench. All was quiet in the tonneau, but there was a load of danger for Grattan and Pardo in that blue car had they but known it!

Peering from the bushes, Matt and Boggs saw the two men come swiftly and silently along the road. McGlory, with steady nerves, kept at his work.

Pardo crept up behind the cowboy and caught him suddenly about the shoulders.

"I guess that puts the boot on the other leg!" exulted Pardo, drawing McGlory roughly away from the machine.

"The fellow that laughs last," cried Grattan, "laughs best. You've given us a good hard run of it, McGlory, but we just _had_ to have this car. It means everything to Pardo and me. What's the trouble with it?"

"Loose burr," answered the cowboy, with feigned sullenness. "It's been bothering me ever since I left the pocket. If it hadn't been for that, you'd never have caught me."

"Probably not," said Grattan. "Small things sometimes lead to big results. Show me the loose burr and I'll tighten it. After that, McGlory, we'll bid you an affectionate farewell and show these mountains our heels."

"The wrench I've got isn't large enough," went on McGlory. "You'll have to get another out of the tool box."

This was a clever ruse on the cowboy's part to draw the thief to the footboard of the car--placing him handily for Banks and Gridly.

The tool box was open. Grattan, entirely unsuspicious, went back around the side of the car and stooped over to get the wrench.

The next moment Banks had thrown himself on top of him, Gridly had dropped out the other side of the car, McGlory had whirled on Pardo, and Matt, Boggs, and Tige were rushing out of the bushes.

The trap had been sprung, and sprung so neatly that neither Grattan nor Pardo had the slightest chance of getting out of it or of using their firearms.