CONCLUSION.

Doctors are not infallible, and the post doctor was no exception in this respect. All his experience and skill in diagnosing the ills of humanity, made him certain that Prebbles was booked for the other world. But there was an error—and, more than likely, that error was due to the arrival of Newt, who, it will be remembered, the doctor had wired it would be useless to send.

Prebbles was singing his Salvation Army hymns when Newt stepped into the sick room. All night he was marching the streets, in his disordered mind, pounding the cymbals and exhorting. Occasionally there crept into the oral wanderings a reference to the young man watching at the bedside.

Most unexpectedly—most unaccountably, to the doctor—a lucid moment came to Prebbles in the early morning. He saw his son, he recognized him, and he felt his handclasp. There was a smile on the old man's lips as he drifted back into his sea of visions.

But, from that moment, there was a noticeable change. There seemed more resisting power in the wasted body of the old clerk, as though hope for better things had grown up in him and was giving him strength.

To Matt, Newt Prebbles told what he knew about the accident to poor Harry Traquair.

Siwash Charley, under agreement with Murgatroyd, had tampered with Traquair's machine before the fatal flight, just as he had tampered with Matt's machine before the official trials at Fort Totten. But Traquair had not been so fortunate as the king of the motor boys.

Newt had learned of this villainous work through Siwash Charley, and had received from Siwash, at a time when the ruffian was under the influence of liquor, an incriminating note from the broker, signed with his alias, "George Hobbes."

Prebbles had made use of this document, holding it over Murgatroyd's head and extorting money from him on account of it.

This, of course, formed a sad commentary on the character of young Prebbles. But Motor Matt, in "advancing the spark of friendship," so played upon the facts in the case, and showed up the broker's duplicity, that the old clerk's illness formed the turning point in his son's career.

Such transformations are not so rare as it would seem.

Cameron, Matt, Ping, and Roscoe arrived at the post in the afternoon following the arrival of Matt and young Prebbles. Murgatroyd, of course, accompanied them.

Murgatroyd was tried, not on the Traquair charge, but on the later one of conniving, with Siwash Charley, to injure the aËroplane at the government trials, thus endangering the life, not only of Motor Matt, but of Lieutenant Cameron as well.

His sentence was commensurate with the evil he had attempted, and he followed Siwash Charley to the Leavenworth prison.

After a few days the post doctor was as certain Prebbles would recover as he had been positive, at the time he sent his message to Cameron, that he had not many hours to live.

The reward paid by the government for the capture of Murgatroyd was made over to the old clerk. On this, he and his son were to begin life anew.

One of the first things Matt did, after reaching the post with Newt Prebbles, was to write to Mrs. Traquair, at Jamestown, settling a mystery which had long puzzled every one who knew of Murgatroyd's attempts to secure the Wells County homestead.

There was coal under the soil of the quarter-section, and the railroad company wanted it. That was the secret, and Mrs. Traquair profited handsomely by the knowledge of it.

The mortgage was paid, and the homestead passed into the hands of the railroad company.

In a country so barren of trees as North Dakota, coal is a valuable commodity.

Matt still kept the aËroplane, and still persistently refused to put it in storage at the post, to be called for later.

"The Comet," said Matt, one evening when he and McGlory were again with Cameron, "has got to earn something for Joe, and Ping, and myself."

"Ping comes in on the deal, does he?" laughed Cameron.

"Share and share alike with the rest of us," averred Matt. "That Chinese boy is loyalty itself. Down in that shelter tent, below the post trader's, he spends his nights and days watching the aËroplane."

"And talking to it, and singing about it, and burning rice-paper prayers to the heathen josses, asking them to keep it carefully and not let it go broke while up in the air," put in McGlory. "Oh, he's a freak, that Ping boy; but, as Matt says, he's a mighty good sort of a freak at that. Look how he ran off with the rifles when we fooled the Tin Cup punchers on the hill! And remember how he slammed that stone through the window when Murgatroyd had drawn a fine bead on me and was about to press the trigger. Share and share alike? Well, I should say."

"You're still determined to go into the show business, Matt?" asked Cameron anxiously.

"I don't see why we shouldn't," said Matt. "Five hundred a week isn't to be sneezed at. Joe's agreed, and so has Ping. When the first favorable day arrives, we're going to fly to Fargo."

Two days later the favorable moment was at hand. All the soldiers at the post were out to witness the start, and even the gruff post trader was present to say good-by to the king of the motor boys and his friends.

Matt's last call, at the post, was made on Prebbles. The old man was practically out of danger, but his recovery would take time, and for a long while yet he would have to remain in bed.

He was not able to say much, but what little he did say Matt considered an ample reward for the strenuous adventures that had befallen him and his chums on their flight to the upper Missouri.

Newt had become his sworn friend. Whenever Matt wanted any help, in any way that was within Newt's power to grant, he was surely to call on young Prebbles.

When finally Motor Matt took his way down the post hill for the last time, he was in an exceedingly thoughtful mood.

He remembered when he had first come to Devil's Lake, knowing nothing about aËroplanes, and had practiced with the June Bug until he had acquired the knack of flying the machine and had made good and sold the machine to the government for enough to give large profit to himself and his friends, and, what pleased him most, to place Mrs. Traquair above want.

He remembered, too, how he had sailed away alone into Wells County on a fool's errand, had become entangled in a losing cause, and had experienced a sharp reverse.

But, best of all, in his estimation, was the night journey back to the post from the Missouri River, bringing Newt Prebbles to his father's bedside.

Down into the cheering throng below the post trader's store went the king of the motor boys, shaking hands with every one he met, Indians, whites, or "breeds," receiving good wishes from all and heartily returning them.

For the last time the aËroplane was dragged from the shelter tent, given a strong start along the old familiar roadway, and then watched as it climbed up and up into the air and winged swiftly eastward, carrying Motor Matt, and Joe McGlory, and Ping into untried ventures and fresh fields of endeavor.

THE END.

THE NEXT NUMBER (27) WILL CONTAIN

Motor Matt's Engagement;

OR,

ON THE ROAD WITH A SHOW.

"On the Banks of the Wabash"—In the Calliope Tent—An Eavesdropper—Queer Proceedings—Motor Matt Protests—A Blaze in the Air—Was it Treachery?—A Call for Help—Black Magic—The Mahout's Flight—The Paper Trail—Carl Turns a Trick—The Lacquered Box—The Hypnotist's Victim—"For the Sake of Haidee"—The Rajah's Niece

NEW YORK, August 21, 1909.

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