THE WOODS BY THE RIVER.

There was a wait on a siding, a little way out of town, for another car from Grand Rapids to pass on the single track of the trolley system. Five minutes were lost, and Ferral fretted and fumed.

"Take it easy, son," said Harris soothingly. "We're on the way, you know, and a little wait like this isn't going to make much of a difference."

"It might, matey," answered Ferral. "A whole lot can happen in five minutes."

At last the car got under headway again and rushed over the remaining distance.

"I'd better get off alone," suggested Dennison, just as the car began slowing up for the platform. "If Brady has anyone watching the platform, the fellow won't know but that I'm Ochiltree, or some one sent by Ochiltree and Harper. The rest of you go on a little way, get off, and double back. Show your badge to the conductor, Harris, and he'll let you off anywhere."

This was a good idea, and Dennison deserved credit for thinking of it at the last moment. The success of the whole plan might depend upon the ruse.

Dennison debarked on the platform, and, when the car pulled out, those still aboard saw him stepping off the planks and pushing into the timber that grew close up to the stopping place.

Matt and Ferral, as the car went on, saw the broken oak at the end of the platform. It was a plain enough landmark and not easily to be passed or mistaken.

"Harper is playing square with us, matey," remarked Ferral, pointing to the tree.

"It looks that way, Dick," agreed Matt.

"Here's where we get back our air ship," jubilated Ferral. "Sink me, though, but the loss of that flugee gave me a scare."

"We haven't got it back yet, old chap."

"I know that, but I feel in my bones that we're going to. I——"

Just then the car began to slow down. Harris had got out of his seat, with the other officer, and had gone back to the conductor. Evidently the badges worn by the two men had caused him to slow down the express car for a halt in defiance of rules.

The boys, heeding a call from Harris, got up and ran back along the aisle. They jumped off, after the two officers, and the car resumed its course to Grand Rapids. But there was a mighty curious conductor on the rear platform. As long as the car remained in sight of the four who had debarked, he looked back and wondered what was up.

"We'll go back quietly," said Harris. "The river is just over there, and the woods lie between it and the trolley line. We'll get to the river bank and follow it back. That ought to bring us out close to the place where the Hawk landed. Follow me, Twitchell," he added to the other officer, "and you boys," he finished, "come along behind Twitchell. Quiet's the word."

Harris darted into the timber, which bordered the track closely. The underbrush had evidently been cleaned out, so that the timber had the appearance of a grove. On one of the trees, near the track, Matt saw a big white sign bearing the words, "Lots for Sale."

The river, as it proved, was hardly more than a stone's throw from the trolley track. Turning along its bank, Harris led the way back toward the vicinity of the broken oak and the platform.

They all knew they had not far to go, but they were startled at the suddenness with which Harris turned on them before they had followed the river bank for more than two or three minutes.

"I can see the Hawk," whispered Harris. "She's just ahead. And Brady is there—and Dennison, too. They're talking. I can't see Pete or Whipple, and those rascals may be laying low to carry out some black plan of Brady's—but we'll see about that. Come along, and keep behind the trees as much as you can."

As Harris turned about, he drew his revolver. Twitchell likewise got out a weapon. Then the party separated, and each advanced from tree to tree.

It was not long before Matt and Ferral, who were advancing near each other, were able to get a good look at their air ship.

The Hawk had descended in a cleared space hard by the river, and seemed to be in good condition. She was moored to the ground with two ropes at the front and rear of the car, the ropes being tied to trees.

Coming a little closer, the boys were able to see Brady and Dennison.

Brady had his coat off and his shirt sleeves rolled up. He was holding a heavy wrench in his hand and had evidently been working with the motor when Dennison presented himself. The two men were talking, and Matt and Ferral were able to hear what passed between them.

"What did you say your name was?" inquired Brady, evidently distrustful.

"Gammon," answered Dennison. "I'm a pal o' Ochiltree's."

"Where's Harper?"

"He stayed behind at Ochiltree's house."

"Why was that? I told Harper to come and to bring Ochiltree with him."

"I'll tell ye the why of it, Brady. Ye see, the perlice are watchin' Ochiltree good and hard, an' if he was seen comin' here with Harper, the two of 'em might be follered. Ochiltree got word ter me ter come an' put the situation up to you, an' to tell ye that he an' Harper 'u'd be along when it got dark, as it wasn't safe ter come in broad day."

"I see," muttered Brady, studying Dennison with his gimlet eyes.

"Harper said ye had two more men with ye," went on Dennison, playing his game easily and evidently edging closer for a chance to lay hold of Brady and make him a prisoner. "Where are they?"

"They're off watching the platform. I reckon they'll be along in a minute. Prob'ly they followed you, and——"

At that precise moment, Pete and Whipple broke out of the timber. They came up directly behind Dennison and laid hands on him before he could make a move to defend himself.

"What you doing?" yelled Brady, leaping forward.

"Grabbing an officer," said Whipple, with an oath. "His name's Gammon, all right, an' the talk he was givin' ye, Brady, was pure gammon, an' nothin' else."

"How's that?"

Brady's voice, as he put the question, was hard and metallic, and he measured Dennison with glistening eyes.

"Why," explained Whipple, "when he got off'n the keer we seen some 'un else through a winder. I'm a sinner if it wasn't Matt King. Now, whatever was King doin' on that keer? By rights, he ort ter hev got shuffled out o' the game, across the lake in that balloon house. But he didn't, an' here he is, travelin' on the same keer with a feller as says his name is Gammon, an' that he comes from Ochiltree."

Dennison, as he was held helpless in the hands of Pete and Whipple, was studying the timber covertly, but none the less anxiously.

"What have you got to say for yourself?" cried Brady, advancing threateningly upon Dennison.

Matt and Ferral had been wondering why Harris and Twitchell had not shown themselves. Unable to hold back any longer, the boys dashed forward.

The noise they made drew the instant attention of Brady, Whipple and Pete.

"There's King now!" yelled Pete.

In a twinkling, Brady dropped the wrench and drew a revolver.

A sharp, incisive note echoed through the woods and across the river. Matt felt the wind of the bullet as it passed his face.

"Look out, matey!" bellowed Ferral. "Duck for a tree! You're not armed, and can't take any chances. He's going to shoot again."

But it was not necessary for Matt to get behind a tree. Before Brady could fire another shot in his direction, Harris and Twitchell rushed upon the scene.

"Drop your guns!" cried Harris sternly. "Stand right where you are! You're our prisoners!"

Brady, however, was made of sterner stuff. A prison cell was yawning to receive him, and he knew it.

Whipple and Pete, astounded by this sudden demonstration, paused undecided. Their fingers relaxed, and Dennison leaped away from them.

"Treachery!" roared Brady; "Harper has sold us out! Fight for it, boys!"

Dennison, being nearer Brady than any of the rest, jumped for him. He tried to draw his revolver, but it stuck in his pocket. Brady had leveled his weapon at point-blank range, and only Motor Matt's quickness, at that moment, saved the officer's life.

Matt, watching the fight breathlessly, had instinctively picked up a stone. Now, seeing Dennison's danger, he hurled the stone at Brady with all his strength.

The missile sped true, struck Brady's arm with terrific force and caused the revolver to drop. With wild yells, Harris and Twitchell rushed forward to capture Brady and his two men.

But Pete and Whipple, not knowing the extent of the forces against them, thought best to trust their liberty to their heels. Whirling around, they darted into the timber, leaping from tree to tree as they ran in order to screen themselves from any bullets that might be sent after them.

The bullets came fast and thick, but evidently without doing any damage, for Whipple and Pete did not slacken pace.

Brady, swearing like a pirate, turned on Dennison like a madman, grabbed him about the waist and, with a tremendous display of strength, held the officer in front of him. Still swearing, he began backing into the timber, with the intention of making his escape as Pete and Whipple had done.

Seeing that he would be likely to effect his purpose, Matt and Ferral doubled around behind him and suddenly hurled themselves upon him from the rear.

Brady fought like a tiger. Matt could not have believed that one man possessed so much strength. Dennison, whose temper was fiercely aroused by the turn events had taken, jerked loose from Brady and turned to help the boys.

Harris and Twitchell, seeing that Brady was as good as captured, took after Pete and Whipple.