Motor Matt's Make-and-Break; or, Advancing the Spark of Friendship Read online

  CHAPTER III.

  BRINGING THE SKELETON OUT.

  The old clerk was so wrought up over the business he had in hand thathe had given scant consideration to himself. All his life--ever sincehe had been cast adrift to make his own way in the world--he had been aclerk. The only outdoor exercise he had ever taken consisted in walkingfrom his sleeping quarters to his boarding place, and thence to theoffice, back to the boarding place for lunch, then back once more forsupper and to his lodgings for sleep. During the last few months, sincejoining the "army," he had had evening exercise of a strenuous nature,but it came at a time of life when it merely ran down the physicalorganism instead of building it up.

  It was a bedraggled and shattered Prebbles that completed the trip bywagon from Minnewaukon to the post. This lap of the journey was througha driving rain, the old man being insufficiently protected by a thinhorse blanket. His whole body was shaking, as he sat dripping in thechair, and his teeth clattered and rattled.

  Several times Prebbles tried to speak to Motor Matt, but the chillsplintered his words into indistinguishable sounds.

  O'Hara peered into the clerk's gray face, and then turned a significantlook at his superior officer.

  "Sor," said he, "th' ould chap ain't built t' shtand a couple av hoursin th' rain."

  "Get him something hot from the kitchen, sergeant," ordered Cameron.Then, when O'Hara had left, the lieutenant turned to Matt. "Bring himinto my bedroom, Matt you and McGlory. I've some clothes he can put on.They'll be a mile too big for him, but they'll be dry."

  "Don't try to talk now, Prebbles," admonished Matt, as he and thecowboy supported him into the next room. "You'll feel better in alittle while and then you can talk all you please."

  O'Hara came with a pitcher of hot milk, in which the post doctor hadmixed a stimulant of some kind, and he was left in the bedroom to helpPrebbles out of his wet clothes and into the dry ones.

  "Who is he?" inquired Cameron, when he and the boys were once more backin the sitting room.

  "Murgatroyd's clerk," replied Matt. "I saw him once, when I firstreached Jamestown and called on the broker to make inquiries aboutTraquair's a?roplane."

  "Then, if he works for a scoundrel like Murgatroyd, he must be of thesame calibre. Like master, like man, you know."

  "That old saw don't apply to this case, Cameron," said Matt earnestly."Prebbles is a good deal of a man. He belongs to the Salvation Army andtries to be square with everybody. Why, the very first time I called onMurgatroyd, Prebbles warned me to beware of the broker."

  "The old boy is the clear quill," said McGlory, "you take it from me.But what's he doing here? Sufferin' horned toads! Say, do you thinkhe's come to tell us something about Murg?"

  "By Jove," muttered Cameron, with suppressed excitement, "I'll betthat's what brought him!"

  "Perhaps," said Matt. "We'll know all about it, in a little while."

  In less than half an hour the old clerk emerged from the room, in acomfortable condition outside and in. The only thing about him that wasat all damp was a sheet of folded paper which he carried in his hand.

  "We had to swim, just about, from Minnewaukon over here," mutteredPrebbles, as he lowered himself into a chair. "You're mighty good to anold man, Motor Matt, you and your friends."

  "When did you leave Jamestown?" asked Matt.

  "This morning."

  "Then it was raining hard when you got off the train at Minnewaukon!"

  "Raining pitchforks!"

  "Why didn't you wait in the town until the rain was over?"

  "There wasn't time," and the shake in Prebbles' high-pitched voice toldof his growing excitement. "I just had to get here, that's all. WhatI've got to say, Motor Matt," he added, with an anxious look at Cameronand McGlory, "is--is mighty important."

  "Perhaps we'd better go, then," said Cameron, with a look at thecowboy.

  "Wait a minute," interposed Matt. "Has what you've got to say anythingto do with Murgatroyd?"

  "He's a robber," barked Prebbles: "he's worse'n a robber. Yes, Murg'smainly concerned in what I've got to say."

  "Then it will be well for Cameron to stay and hear it. He representsthe government, and the government is after Murgatroyd. As for McGlory,here, he's my pard, and I have few secrets from him."

  "All right, then," returned Prebbles. "It ain't a pleasant story I'mgoin' to tell--leastways not for me. I've got to dig a few old bonesout of my past life, and I know you won't think hard of me, seeing ashow I belong to the army. It's a great thing to belong," and the oldman seemed to forget what he was about to say, for a few moments, andfell to musing.

  The young motorist, the cowboy, and the lieutenant waited patiently forPrebbles to pull himself together and proceed. The old clerk's haggardface proved that he had suffered much, and his three auditors had onlykindness and consideration for him.

  "It's like this," went on the old man suddenly, pulling himselftogether and drawing a hand over his eyes. "I was married, a long whileago--so long it seems as though it must have been in another world. Ireckon I was happy, then, but it didn't last long. My wife died in twoyears and left me with a boy to raise. I wonder if you know how hard itis for a man like me to bring up a boy without a good woman to help?The job was too much for Prebbles. I did the best I knew how, on onlythirty-five dollars a month, givin' the lad an education--or trying to,rather, for he never took much to books and schooling. He ran away fromme when he was fifteen, an' I didn't see him again until last spring,when he was twenty-one.

  "Six years had made a big difference in that boy, friends. He had gonehis way, and it wasn't a good way, either. He was in Jimtown just amonth, gamblin' and carryin' on, and then him and me had a quarrel.They were bitter words we passed, me accusin' him of dishonoring hisdead mother and his father, by his ways, and him twitting me of bein'a failure in life just because I didn't have the nerve to be dishonestand go to grafting. I must have said things that were awful--I can'tremember--but all I do know is that Newt hit me. He knocked me down,right in Murgatroyd's office. Murg was out, at the time, and Newt andme was alone there together. When I came to, Newt was gone."

  Again was there a silence, the old clerk fingering a scar on the sideof his cheek.

  "How like a serpent's tooth is an ungrateful son," went on Prebbles."And yet, Newt wasn't all to blame. I wasn't the right sort to bring upa high-spirited boy. I wasn't able to do my duty. He left four hundredin gamblin' debts, when he went away. Murgatroyd showed me the I O U'swith Newt's name to 'em. That's why I kept right on workin' for Murg,when I knew he was a robber, and after I had joined the army. I've beentaking up those I O U's. Three of 'em's been paid, and there's onemore left; and here I've pulled the pin on myself before takin' up theother. I don't know what I'm going to do for a job," and a pathetichelplessness crept into the old clerk's voice, "but," and the voicestrengthened grimly, "I started out on this thing and I'm going tosee it through. What I want, is to make up with Newt. Lawsy, how thatquarrel has worried me! I don't care about the way he hit me--he hadthe right, I guess--but I want to make up with him an' get him back."

  The old man dropped his face in his hands. The other three looked athim sympathetically, and then exchanged significant glances.

  "It isn't so hard, Prebbles," remarked Matt gently, "to advance thespark of friendship, and it ought to be more than easy in the case ofyou and your son."

  Prebbles lifted his head and his forlorn face brightened.

  "I knew you'd help me, Matt," and he put out his thin, clawlike handto grip Matt's; "you help everybody that wants you to, and I knewsure you'd see me through this business. I did what I could foryou--remember that? Mebby what I done didn't amount to such a terriblesight, but I put you next to Murgatroyd the first time you ever cameinto his office."

  "Of course I'll do what I can to help you, Prebbles," said Mattreassuringly.

  "It's make or break with me, this time," shivered Prebbles. "I'm prettywell along to stand such a row as I had with Newt."

  "Where is
Newt now?" inquired Matt.

  "That's the point!" murmured Prebbles, trying to brace up in his chair."Somehow, he's got under the thumb of Murgatroyd, or Murg's got under_his_ thumb, I can't just understand which."

  Prebbles smoothed out the damp sheet of folded paper on his knee.

  "I belong to the army," he quavered, "and I don't feel that what I'vedone's wrong. A letter came to Murgatroyd, at the office, last night.It was addressed in Newt's handwriting. I opened that letter and madea copy of it; then I sent the letter on, with some others, to GeorgeHobbes, Bismarck. That's the name Murg uses when he pretends he'slendin' money for some one else. He can gouge and strip a man, whilesayin' he's actin' for Hobbes, see?"

  Every one of the three who had listened to Prebbles was deeplyinterested. The bringing in of Murgatroyd seemed to offer a chance forcapturing the rascal.

  "Here's the letter, Motor Matt," said Prebbles. "Read it out loud, andthen you'll all understand. There's a way to get Newt, and advance thespark of friendship, as you call it. By doin' that, the boy can besaved from the influence of Murgatroyd--and that's what I want."

  Matt took the copy of the letter from the clerk's nerveless hand andread it aloud. Just as he finished, Prebbles slumped slowly forward outof his chair and fell in a senseless heap on the floor.