MOTOR STORIES

Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1909, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C., by Street & Smith, 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York, N. Y.

Motor Matt's Daring Rescue;

OR,

THE STRANGE CASE OF HELEN BRADY.

By the author of "MOTOR MATT."

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. Dick Ferral, a Canadian boy who has served his time in the King's navy, and bobs up in the States where he falls into plots and counter-plots, and comes near losing his life. Hector Brady, a convict who breaks prison to wreak vengeance upon two members of his former band. Helen Brady, Hector Brady's daughter, who helps Motor Matt. Whipple and Pete, two members of Hector Brady's old band of air-ship thieves who are engineering a treacherous plot aimed at Brady. It is against them that Brady has vowed vengeance—and a queer twist of circumstances causes Brady to ask aid of Motor Matt in order that the scoundrels may be captured and Helen rescued. Hooligan and his wife, scoundrelly caretakers in charge of a mansion in River Forest.

Harris, a policeman of South Chicago who aids Motor Matt in his work against the Bradys. Burton and Sanders, two police officers from La Grange, Ills., who assist Harris and Motor Matt and his friends in the daring rescue of Helen Brady.

CHAPTER I.

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF HELEN BRADY.

"Your name King?"

"Yes."

"You de feller dey calls Motor Matt?"

"You've struck it."

"Chee! I seen yer mug in de poipers an' I t'ought yous must be de feller. I'm de kid wot woiks f'r Hagenmyer, an' here's a letter dat he told me t' give t' yous."

Motor Matt and Dick Ferral had been sunning themselves in front of the balloon house, a little way out of the town of South Chicago. A youngster of ten or eleven had climbed the roadside fence and made his way toward the big, shed-like building in the centre of the swampy meadow. Of the two boys, the youngster had instinctively picked out Matt, had halted in front of him, and had started the foregoing colloquy. He finished by taking a letter out of his pocket and passing it over to the young motorist.

"Yous has been doin' a lot o' t'ings here in dis little ole burg," grinned the youngster, as he started back toward the road, "an' I wants t' go on record as sayin' yous is Class A, an' all t' de good."

"Much obliged," laughed Matt.

The kid from Hagenmyer's waved his hand, then turned around and made his way briskly toward the fence.

"Who's this Hagenmyer, mate?" queried Ferral, drawing closer to his chum and looking at the latter curiously.

"He's the fellow that bought this balloon house from Brady," explained Matt. "That was before the police found out that Brady was a thief, but Brady knew the discovery was coming, so he got rid of everything he owned in South Chicago."

"What business has Hagenmyer got with you?"

"We'll know in a minute, Dick."

Matt tore off the end of the envelope and pulled out the enclosed sheet. He gave a low whistle as he read; then, after he had finished, he passed the letter over to Ferral. The communication ran as follows:

"Motor Matt: My workmen will begin tearing down the balloon house to-morrow morning. It will be necessary,[Pg 2] therefore, for you to remove your air ship sometime this afternoon or to-night. "Isidore Hagenmyer."

A look of satisfaction crossed Ferral's face.

"That means we've got to trip anchor and bear away," said he. "I'm not sorry. We've been hung up here for two weeks, old ship, and what good has it done us?"

"Not much, that's a fact," answered Matt discontentedly. "Hagenmyer has held off on tearing down the balloon house for that length of time, just to give us a safe place to keep the Hawk. We can't blame him for getting busy on the old shed to-morrow morning."

"Well, our movable canvas shelter is ready, and stowed in the car. We can use that, now that the shed is to be taken away from us."

"The canvas is not a safe shelter, by any means, Dick."

"It's the only one we can use on our fly from here to New York. You won't try to stay here any longer, will you?"

"I hate to leave without learning something about Helen Brady. That girl has done a lot for us, pard, and it looks kind of heartless for us to pull out without doing what we can to settle the mystery of her disappearance."

"But what can we do, mate, if the detectives are all aback and not able to find a trace of her? Miss Brady went to visit friends on Archer Avenue, Chicago; she was there three days while her father, Hector Brady, was being tried and railroaded to the penitentiary; then, the fourth day after Miss Brady goes to Archer Avenue, she suddenly vanishes, and not a trace of her can be found. No matter how you overhaul the situation, it's queer, and I'm inclined to think that the girl's brother, Hector Brady, Jr., has spirited her away. Either that, or else the girl went away with her brother of her own free will. If Brady, Jr., is mixed up in this, matey, what right have we got to interfere? Looks like a family affair."

Although Matt's brow wrinkled perplexedly, yet his eyes gleamed resolutely, as he replied:

"We know young Brady is a crook, just like his father, Dick, and if there wasn't something wrong, Helen would not have left her friends without giving some explanation. I don't care whether Brady, Jr., is mixed up in the affair or not, I intend to discover what's happened, and to give the girl help if she needs it. If it hadn't been for Helen, you and I would never have been able to chase Brady, Sr., over into Michigan, capture him, and get our air ship back. We mustn't forget what we owe Helen Brady, and that she's entitled to our aid if she needs it."

"Right-o, messmate!" returned Ferral heartily. "The girl helped us get back the Hawk, but that's the least of what she did. If it hadn't been for her, the pair of us would have gone to Davy Jones, right here in this old balloon house.[A] I'm for doing everything we can for her, but if the police can't do anything, I don't see where we come in."

[A] See Motor Matt Weekly No. 10, "Motor Matt's Hard Luck; or, The Balloon-house Plot."

Matt was gloomily silent for a little while, turning his helplessness over and over in his mind.

"Well, Dick," he finally answered, "something may turn up."

"But we can't wait for it. Hagenmyer will be jerking the old shed down over our heads if we don't slant away sometime between this and morning."

"I'm hoping that telegram from the Lestrange people may result in something. That letter they have for me may be from Helen Brady."

Matt took the message from his pocket and read it over again. It was from the people for whom he had been driving a racing automobile, and had been received about eleven o'clock that morning. It merely stated that they had received a letter for Matt, that it was marked "important," and that they would hold it until Matt told them what to do with it. The young motorist had immediately sent his Dutch pard, Carl Pretzel, to Chicago after the letter.

"Perhaps you're right, matey," said Ferral. "Anyhow, we'll know as soon as Carl gets back. He ought to be here by eight bells of the afternoon watch. Hello!" and here Ferral's eyes wandered to the road, "who's that steering this way? He's coming full and by, and seems to be in a hurry."

Matt stared in the direction indicated by his chum. Carl had not had time to get to Chicago and back, so he knew it could not be him.

As the hurrying figure drew closer, and became more distinct, it resolved itself into the form of a man in blue and brass buttons.

"Harris!" exclaimed Matt.

"That's right!" agreed Ferral excitedly; "Harris, or I'm a Fiji! He's got something mighty important stowed away in his locker, or he wouldn't be bearing down on us at that gait."

Harris was a member of the South Chicago police force, and was a good friend of Motor Matt.

"Perhaps he's got something to tell us about Helen Brady!" cried Matt, starting up. "If he has, then the news couldn't come at a better time."

While Harris was climbing the fence, both boys started across the swampy ground to meet him.

"Howdy, Matt!" called the officer, jerking a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his perspiring face. "Hello, Ferral. Pretty hot day for a fast walk, and I didn't let any grass grow under me."

"What's the trouble, Harris?" queried Matt.

"There's plenty, I'm telling you. I guess we'll have to put another detail of officers on guard at this balloon house; if we don't, you lads are liable to get done up and lose the Hawk."

"How's that?" demanded Ferral.

"Why, that pesky Brady has escaped from the 'pen' at Joliet, and——"

"Escaped?" echoed Matt.

"Well, sink me!" exclaimed Ferral. "Why, he made his brags that the 'pen' couldn't hold him."

"That fellow's as slippery as an eel," went on Harris. "He's been at large for two days, and the prison authorities have kept it quiet, hoping they'd be able to bag him; but they failed to catch him, and now it's got into the papers. I wonder if you understand what that means to you, Matt?" and here the officer fixed a significant look on the young motorist.

"Brady swore he'd get even with Matt," spoke up Ferral.

"That's it," said Harris, "and he's the sort of fellow that don't say things just to hear himself talk. He's been out of the 'pen' two days, and I'd like to bet something handsome he's been thinking of Motor Matt and the air ship ever since he got clear of the stone walls and the[Pg 3] iron bars. I rushed out here as soon as I could, to warn you boys to look out for yourselves, and for the Hawk."

"Brady will have enough to do keeping his liberty," remarked Matt; "he won't have any time to bother with me."

"That's where you're wrong, Matt, according to my notion. You know how anxious Brady has been, every time the law got after him, to get hold of the air ship. With the Hawk, he can snap his fingers at all the detectives and police officers, and it's a cinch he'll come this way. Some of the rest of the gang may be helping him. You know Pete, Whipple, Grove, and Brady, Jr., are still at large. You don't want to have another balloon-house plot worked on you, so I think you lads had better pull out, and go east, if that's where you're headed for."

"But I don't want to leave until I can learn something about Helen Brady!" protested Matt.

"You can't help the girl any," continued Harris. "Who knows but some of her father's gang are mixed up in her disappearance? If it comes to that, who knows but the girl is with her father now? You can't afford to have any more dealings with that gang, Matt. Besides, you owe it to the authorities to take the Hawk where there won't be any possibility of Brady's getting hands on her. If he gets the Hawk, he'll never be captured; if he doesn't get the air ship, he can't possibly keep from getting laid by the heels."

The officer's position was logical. Matt's disappointment on Helen Brady's account was keen, but events seemed to be shaping themselves so that he and his friends would have to leave South Chicago that afternoon, whether they wanted to or not.

CHAPTER II.

THE IMPORTANT LETTER.

"It looks as though we'd have to get away from here this afternoon, Harris," said Matt. "Hagenmyer just sent us word he's going to begin tearing down the balloon house in the morning."

"Good!" exclaimed the officer, with satisfaction. "This old roost can't be knocked to pieces any too quick. It has witnessed many a lawless act on the part of Brady and his gang, and if these old walls could speak they'd tell us of many a crime. Are you and your chums going to try to get to New York with the Hawk, Matt?"

"Yes."

"It's quite a long trip. I know, from experience, that the Hawk will do well on a short voyage, but will she hold out for such a long journey as that?"

"I don't see why she won't, if she's carefully handled."

"But in bad weather? You can't figure on having sunshine and mild breezes all the way, you know, Matt. I've never seen the Hawk tried out in a stiff gale."

"If the gale was too strong, we'd have to come down, anchor, and put up our canvas shelter."

"If anyone could make a success of such a flight, I guess you're the boy. Will you help out the authorities by taking the Hawk so far away that Brady can't have any designs on her?"

"Of course, Harris," said Matt, "we'll do whatever you think is right, but before we leave I think we ought to do something for Helen Brady."

"The Chicago police are hard at work on her case, and you can trust them to do whatever can be done."

"Well," went on Matt, "we'll have to stay here until Carl gets back from the city. He's gone there after an important letter, and I've a hunch it may be from Miss Brady."

Harris opened his eyes at this, and Matt explained about the telegram from the Lestrange people. The officer shook his head.

"There's not much ground for thinking that letter is from Miss Brady," said he. "Probably it's some one who has heard about your air-ship work, and wants to hire the Hawk, or to charter her. What you've been doing in the aeronautical line, Matt, has aroused a good deal of interest all over the country. It's the first time, so far as I know, that an air ship has ever been used practically. First, Brady used the Hawk in his thieving operations, and next you used her to bring two of the gang and some of their booty from Willoughby's swamp. Your last exploit, in which you made an air-ship trip across Lake Michigan in Jerrold's machine, the Eagle, captured the Hawk and returned safely with her, seems to have caused more talk than anything else you have done. No, you can take my word for it, that important letter is from some enthusiast who wants to buy the Hawk, or to hire her. If you lads wanted to sell the air ship, you could realize at least four times what you paid for the craft. Not a bad 'spec,' eh?"

"She ain't for sale, messmate," spoke up Ferral. "She may be for sale, after awhile, but we want to have a little fun with her first. Eh, Matt?"

"That's right, Dick," answered Matt. "Aside from the fun, too, I want to learn all I can about the air-ship business. You never can tell when knowledge of that kind will come handy."

"There you are!" laughed Harris. "You never saw a boy with such a grasping disposition whenever there's anything to be learned. I'm going to stay right here with you and make myself comfortable until Carl gets back from Chicago. You've got me all worked up about that letter, and I'll have to see what it amounts to."

The officer peeled off his long coat and made himself at ease on a box in the shade of the balloon house.

"It beats all," he remarked, after a pause, "how Brady ever succeeded in getting out of the 'pen.'"

"Haven't you heard how he accomplished that?" queried Matt.

"The details haven't been given out—even the newspapers haven't got them. If Brady ever got another chance at you, Matt, he wouldn't halt at any halfway measures. He's right in laying his capture, and most of his troubles, to you, and we all know that he has a disposition like a rattlesnake. You've got to look out for him."

Matt would have given a good deal to know just how much Harris was thinking of his safety, and just how much he was considering the help the authorities would receive by having the Hawk removed from that part of the country. He put the question point-blank, and the officer averred that he was thinking entirely of the recapture of Brady.

"Is the Hawk in shape for a get-away?" he asked.

"She's been ready for a week," replied the young motorist. "There's enough gasoline in the tank to carry her at least three hundred miles, and we have a reserve supply stowed in the car that will carry her that much farther. The bag is full of gas, and Mr. Jerrold has equipped us[Pg 4] with a balloonet, or inner bag, that will keep the buoyancy the same in any temperature. The balloonet is filled with something of his own invention—a vapor of some sort that contracts as the gas in the outer bag expands, and that expands as the gas contracts. Not only that, but Mr. Jerrold gave the bag a coat of some sort of varnish which makes it almost proof against leakage, and we figure that we could travel some thousands of miles before it would be necessary to visit a gas plant."

"Jerrold is a mighty good friend of yours, Matt," observed Harris. "It's not everybody he'd give the benefit of his own inventions."

"He's one of the greatest men of the age," declared the young motorist, with enthusiasm, "and he's doing more to put aëronautics on a commercial and practical basis than any other inventor in the country."

For an hour or two Harris and Matt talked on technical points connected with air ships, and the two finally went into the balloon house so that Matt could point out the improvements which his friend, Jerrold, had helped make in the Hawk.

Most of all this was worse than Greek to Ferral, and he yawned as he listened, and remained behind when his chum and the officer went inside the huge shed. Leaning against the board wall behind him, Ferral dozed, and it was only when a shout reached him from the road that he realized that Carl was coming.

When Ferral turned his gaze in the direction from which the shout had come, Carl was just clambering over the fence.

"Ahoy, Matt!" yelled Ferral, starting to his feet, and wide awake on the instant. "Here's our Dutch raggie! It's hard on the stroke of eight bells and he's made the round trip just as I thought he would."

In response to the hail, Matt and Harris came hurrying out of the shed. By that time Carl was half way between the road and the balloon house.

"Did you get the letter all right, Carl?" asked Matt, as soon as the Dutch boy had come close.

"You bed my life!" whooped Carl. "Don'd I chenerally ged vatefer I go afder, Matt?"

"It isn't often you fall down, and that's a fact."

"It wasn't much of a job, anyhow," laughed Ferral, "going after something that was waiting for you."

"I vent so kevick as I got pack," continued Carl, drawing the letter from his pocket, "und dot's vere I shine. Motor Matt say for me to do somet'ing, und I do him like chain lighdings. Dere you vas. He's atressed to Misder Motor Matt, care oof der Lestrange Garage, und down in vone gorner iss der vort 'imbortant.' My nerfs vas all in some flutters to know vat iss on der insite."

Matt took the letter and tore it open; then, for the benefit of Harris and Ferral and Carl, he read it aloud.

"'Motor Matt: You are a friend of Helen Brady's, and the writer knows that she is in grave peril. She can be rescued, but it can only be by means of your air ship, the Hawk, and the work will have to be done quietly. I am one of the detectives from headquarters, and my attention is so completely taken up with the case that I can't leave where I am to call and see you personally, but if you want to help rescue the girl, you will follow these instructions: "'Between La Grange and the town of Gary, not many miles from South Chicago, there's an abandoned stone quarry. You can't miss it, as it is on the Drainage Canal, and the limestone in the bottom of the quarry will look like a white patch on the earth from the air ship. Bring the Hawk to the quarry at ten o'clock to-night, descending on the edge of the Canal. I will be there to meet you. Don't come before night, for, if the Hawk is seen, we will have all our trouble for our pains. And keep mum about what you are doing, for if you were to talk, the information might reach those who have the girl in

charge and thus prevent our success. Can I count on you? I am figuring that you will receive this letter Tuesday, and come to the quarry Tuesday night; but, if you don't receive this until Wednesday, come Wednesday night. Dave Glennie.'"