BACK IN SOUTH CHICAGO.
There was some great rejoicing on Carl's part when he learned what had happened in Grand Haven and out along the trolley line to Grand Rapids.
"Ach, aber dot all sounds too goot to be droo!" exulted the Dutch boy. "I vish I hat peen dere during der fragas. Ferral vas fooling mit me ven he saidt dot Jerrold und I mighdt haf more drouples as der resdt oof you. Dere don'd vas any tanger oof dot at any stage oof der game. Prady gaptured! Hoop-a-la! Aber der pest oof all iss dot der Hawk is pack vere she pelongs, und dot pooty soon, pympy, Modor Matt, Tick Ferral und Carl Pretzel vill sail avay mit demselufs py Noo York. Der palloon-house plot ditn't vork oudt like Prady t'ought."
"It would have worked out just as he planned," said Matt, "if it hadn't been for Helen Brady."
"Yah, so! Miss Prady safed der tay for all oof us. Ven ve shdart for Noo York now, Matt? Oof ve vaid too long, den meppy dose odder two fellers, Vipple und Pete, vill hatch some more plots. I don'd like dot. Der kevicker vat ve get avay, der pedder all aroundt."
"Carl's got the marlinspike by the right end, old ship," said Ferral to Matt.
"That may be," answered Matt, "but I think we ought to find out something more about what Helen Brady intends doing before we leave Chicago."
"Right-o!" agreed Ferral. "I was forgetting about that. She's mighty independent, though, and I doubt whether she'll let us do much to help her."
"That's one of the things I like about Helen Brady."
Matt went over the Hawk and found that she would need more gasoline before the trip back across the lake was attempted.