Chapter VIII: A Bullet From Below

The boys were stunned. Could it be possible that this was a "straight tip," and not a hoax?

The letter was written on a scrap of paper taken from a notebook; and the envelope in which it was inclosed had been used twice. The first time it had been addressed to "Hubert Bangs, General Delivery, New Orleans, La." The "Hubert Bangs" had been scratched off with a lead pencil and Motor Matt's name written in its place. The ragged end of the envelope had been folded over and secured with a pin.

"A drick!" muttered Carl. "Dot feller Pangs iss vone oof Jurgens' gang."

"Strike me lucky," put in Dick, "but that's the sizing I give it, Matt."

"You're wrong," averred Matt. "If a trick was intended, Bangs would never have used an old envelope bearing his name. Be sure of that. Even if a trick _was_ intended, it would be a ruse to get us into the vicinity of the gang of thieves. The gang wouldn't do that, being too anxious, just now, to keep out of sight. But, supposing that was Jurgens' game, wouldn't it be a good thing for us to come close to the thieves? They have the diamonds, and they are what we want."

"Right-o!" exclaimed Dick. "Hoax or no, our move is to slant away for Bayou Yamousa, where we intended to go in the first place. We'll not find Yamousa there, but luck of another kind may be waiting for us."

"Vy von't ve findt Yamousa?" inquired Carl, his face brightening a little.

Dick showed him the paragraph in the paper and Carl spelled it out, his face continuing to clear as he read.

"I don'd vish der olt foodoo voman any hardt luck," breathed Carl, "aber I vas gladder she ain'd dere as dot she vas. It vill be pedder for us. Are ve going to hit der air route?"

"Just as quick as we can," answered Matt briskly, hurrying to the car.

There was no wind to speak of, but it required manoeuvring to guide the _Hawk_ out from under the high roof and to the edge of the dock. The boys, after stowing the mooring ropes by which they had hauled the air ship into the open, got aboard the car and Matt started the engine.

A moment later the propeller took the push, and the _Hawk_ glided up her airy path until she swung high over the City of New Orleans. People below could be seen running about and looking and pointing upward.

"We're causing quite a stir, mates," remarked Dick. "We'd cause more of a stir, though, if those people down there knew what we had in our noodles."

Carl ran out the American flag to the rear end of the air ship, and waved his cap. A cheer arose, weirdly distinct and inspiring.

"I feel in my pones," said Carl, "dot somet'ing iss going to habben. It's der olt hunch come pack. I hafen't felt dot for some leedle time. Aber I'd like to know," the Dutch boy added, as he floundered back to his post forward, "who it vas sent dot ledder."

"One of the gang may have weakened, or have been left out in the division of the booty," said Matt, laying his course calmly, and feeling very much at home and contented, now that he was running his beloved motor again. "The house in Prytania Street, you know, was watched night and day. It was spied upon yesterday afternoon and night while Jurgens, Whistler, and Bangs must have been laying their plans. It's my idea that there is another member of the gang, and perhaps it is this fourth man who wrote the letter."

"One guess is as good as another, mate," replied Dick. "We'll know who the fellow is, maybe, when we get to the bayou."

"Und meppy nod," said Carl. "Meppy dose fellers haf a drap all sed for us, und dot ve vill trop indo it und mix oop mit all kindts oof oxcidement."

"That's right, Carl," growled Dick. "You're the original wet blanket. Why don't you square away and look on the bright side? The job that's set for us is hard enough without any of your croaking."

"I don'd vas croaking!" protested Carl. "I look on der plack site, und den, ven der pright site shows oop ve like him pedder pecause ve don't oxbect it. I am jeerful all der dime. Ask Matt aboudt dot."

"Carl's intentions are good, Dick," said Matt. "You must give him credit for that. We both know the prospect ahead of us isn't any too pleasing. We're going it blind and trusting to luck. The more I think about that letter, however, the more confidence I have in the good intentions of the writer. Whistler, you know, used to work on a plantation near Bayou Yamousa. It's easy to suppose that he has a knowledge of the country in that section, and that knowledge will stand the gang in hand, now that they're looking for a place to lay low."

"That's a fact," agreed Dick. "We'll get alongside those duffing beach combers, and then it will be up to us to lay them aboard and grab the diamonds. We'll do it," he added stoutly. "Motor Matt's along, and Motor Matt's luck is with us."

Light as the bird after which she was named, the _Hawk_ skimmed through the sunlit air, five hundred feet above the "Father of Waters." Boats below, bound for New Orleans or outward to the Gulf, were passed, many a glass being trained on the air ship and its passengers.

Matt and his chums had gone over this route once before, and now, while they were taking the back track, they remembered the landmarks and guided the _Hawk_ accordingly.

After two hours of sailing over the river, Dick sighted their turning point and gave the order for an easterly course. The _Hawk_ swung around, answering the steering rudder easily. The motor worked perfectly, and the air ship swerved and shifted with the slightest touch on the guiding lever.

"And that swab who belongs to the Aëro Club wants to buy the _Hawk_!" scoffed Dick. "We'll never sell her, Matt. If it's money we want, we can make more with the air ship than we could in any other line of business. Besides, who'd change this air flying for anything else under heaven? I'd flog the cat all the days of my life if we were ever foolish enough to let go of this craft."

"I'll go on record in the same way, Dick," said Matt.

"Me, too," chanted Carl. "Vile ve haf der _Hawk_ ve can be vay oop in G, all der time. Yah, you bed my life, I like dis pedder as anyt'ing."

That flight was the very poetry of the lads' air-ship experience. Fate was lowering over the _Hawk_--destruction was skulking just ahead in the heavy timber below--and Motor Matt and his chums were to look back on that flight to Bayou Yamousa as their last.

Mile after mile of tree tops sped rearward under the car. The boys knew that they were drawing close to the bayou, and Carl and Dick were attending strictly to their work as lookouts.

"I t'ink I see der rifer vat der bayou iss on," announced Carl suddenly, pointing ahead and a little to the left. "Vat you t'ink, Tick? Vas I righdt?"

"Come down a little, Matt," called Dick; "I think I'm beginning to recognize this country, and that Carl has called the turn."

Matt tilted the rudder and the _Hawk_ swooped downward. Before Matt brought the air ship to a level, they were less than twenty feet above the tops of the tallest trees.

"Two points to port, mate," shouted Dick. "There," he added, "hold her so. Very well done. We're coming to the bayou, cap'n and----"

Dick's words were bitten short by a sharp, incisive note from below. This was followed instantly by a smashing sound, a spiteful _slap_, and a wild hissing.

Cries of alarm came from Dick and Carl.

The motor stopped with an impotent gurgle, the propeller slowed down, and the _Hawk_ began to pitch forward and backward and to swerve sideways dangerously.

"Some one shot at us!" yelled Dick excitedly. "The bullet came from among the trees, down there!"

"Py shinks," roared Carl, in a panic, "ve're done for. Ged her down on der groundt, Matt! Be as kevick as vat you can! Ach, himmeblitzen, I bed you ve vas all goners."

"Steady, pards!" came the calm, unruffled voice of Motor Matt. "Hang on! Don't jump or let yourselves be thrown out. There's plenty of gas in the bag yet and it may be I can find a landing. Do you see an opening anywhere among the trees, Dick? Look sharp and speak quick!"

"I can't see the first sign of a clearing," Dick answered.

Just then the _Hawk_ went into the wildest contortions. She seemed like a living thing, wounded to the death and plunging about in fierce agony.

First the car would be tilted until it was almost perpendicular in the air; then it would swerve to the same position, with the other end of the car downward; and, all the time it was leaping upward and downward in this hair-raising way, it was jerking violently right and left.

It was impossible for the boys to do anything more than to hang on for their lives. Occasionally they were swinging out of the car, above the tree tops, and again they would be hurled fiercely against the iron framework.

Matt, in this desperate plight, continued to keep his head. He knew that the bullet fired from below had struck and damaged the motor, and had then passed on through the gas bag.

The gas was pouring out, but Matt was hoping that enough buoyancy would remain to give them a safe landing on the surface, even if it must be a rough one.

In this he was disappointed. Suddenly there came a tearing sound from the bag, and all in the car knew that the bullet hole had widened into a rent under pressure of the gas.

Then, like so much lead, the doomed air ship swooped downward and crashed into the top of a tree.