"You'll have to deal with the chief," answered Harris, "and he's acting under instructions from the court. I suppose your offer will take the Hawk, but I can't make any promises."
"People are not falling over themselves to buy the air ship," laughed Jameson, "and I guess my offer is the best one you'll ever get. See you later."
Matt took his chums to the hotel at which he had been stopping while in South Chicago. As soon as Carl and Ferral got inside the hotel office, they grabbed hold of Matt and hustled him toward some chairs in a corner of the room where they could have a private talk.
"You fellows have got something on your minds," laughed Matt. "I've seen that for quite a while. What is it?"
"How'd you like to own the Hawk yourself, mate?" asked Ferral.
"I'd like it fine," answered Matt, his gray eyes brightening. "If I had more money than I knew what to do with, I'd buy the Hawk just to play with it."
"Jameson offers three thousand," went on Ferral. "If you and I offered thirty-five hundred, and hustled the deal right through before Jameson had a chance to overbid us, we'd get the old flugee, eh?"
"Sure!" said Matt. "But where's the thirty-five hundred to come from?"
"Well, I've got two thousand damp dollars in this roll. If you can scrape up the other fifteen hundred, pard, we'll go halvers on the buy and own the Hawk together."
Matt started forward in his chair. No one knew how Motor Matt longed to own that air ship. Carl thought he knew, but he didn't. It was a passion with Matt, almost a mania, but he had held it under control by his iron will.