"Dad's plot centred about the balloon house. It was a risky plot, but dad told Whipple they would all have to take desperate chances if they hoped to succeed in stealing the Hawk and getting away in her. Whipple agreed with dad, and they arranged between them that Whipple, Grove, Harper, and Pete were to get close to the balloon house in the early morning, steal the Hawk, and sail away. If they were successful, they were to stop at the marsh for dad; and if they captured Motor Matt, Whipple was to put him, securely bound, in the back room, behind the shed, and turn on the gas there."
The girl shivered, and an expression of horror crossed her face.
"I can't begin to tell you," she half sobbed, "how terribly I felt. Motor Matt had helped me, and I could not bear to think that my own father was—was——"
Helen paused, and it was a moment before she could recover herself and go on.
"At first," she continued, "I thought of running into the room where dad was and begging him not to let Whipple harm Motor Matt. But a little thought showed me that such a course would be foolish. Not only would dad not listen to me, but he would probably make me a prisoner, so as to keep me from interfering with his plot. I had no money left, and the only thing I could do was to walk to South Chicago, and try to get there before the plot was carried out. I got my hat—it was in a bedroom easily reached from the cellarway—and I started.
"I walked miles and miles through the darkness, and at last I was so tired I had to sit down and rest. Then I got up and started on again. Every little while I would sit down for a few minutes. But I did not dare to stop very long, for fear I would not get to South Chicago in time.
"Morning came, and I guided myself by the smoke from the rolling mills. Just as I was about to give out entirely, I met Carl."
The girl turned her eyes toward the Dutch boy.
"Und it vas a pooty goot t'ing dot Miss Prady met me schust ven she dit. I vas feeling pooty plue mit meinseluf, you bed you. You see, Matt, it vas like dis: Afder fooling aroundt und losing more dime as I vanted to, I got dose bapers from der chief. Den I come pack py der hodel, get my sadchel, und hurry kevick along der roadt to der palloon house. Ven I see der blace, oop goes der Hawk in der air, und I t'ink, py shiminy, dot Matt hat got tired oof vaiting und hat gone off py New York mitoudt his Dutch bard. Vell, meppy it vas some foolishness, aber I shaced afder dot air ship so fast as I couldt. Sure I couldn't ketch der Hawk, aber I vas oft my headt und ditn't shdop to t'ink. I schust run, und yelled, und got vay past der palloon house ven I med Miss Prady. As soon as she say a few t'ings, den I know dot it vasn't Matt vat vent avay mit der Hawk, but dot Prady gang; und as soon as she say a few t'ings more, den I ged some vorries aboudt Matt und Tick. Ve come pack py der palloon house togedder, Miss Prady und me, und ve go to dot leedle room pehindt der blace, und, whoosh! sooch a odor vat shtruck us in der faces ven ve obened der door.
"Vell, dere vas my bard, Modor Matt, lying shdill on der cot on vone site, und my odder bard, Tick Verral, lying shdill on der cot on der odder site. Ve hat some vildness mit us ven ve t'ink you vas gone oop der shpout, aber ve turned off der gas, got you oudt oof der room und indo der glear air, und pooty kevick, pympy, you refifed. Ach, it vas some habbiness for bot' oof us ven ve see dot!"