"Wait a minute, officer," said Matt. "Stop making a fool of yourself, Carl," he added to his Dutch chum. "You made a mistake at the start-off, but that was no reason Jurgens should have set the dog on you. As for the Italian," and here Matt faced the officer again, "I'll pay him for the damage he has suffered."
"Fifty cents will probably settle that," laughed Townsend, "so if you throw him a five, King, he will be glad the accident happened."
One of the bank notes Jurgens had refused Matt now gave the Italian. His grieved look at once faded into an expansive grin, and he grabbed the money, thanked Matt in explosive Italian and ran back toward his overturned cart.
"That lets the dago out," said the officer, grimly, "but it don't let the Dutchman out, not by a jugful. He'll get a fine, and if Jurgens here wants to prefer charges——"
"I do," snapped Jurgens. "If I don't get that sixty dollars I'll make it hot for all these balloonists. That's the kind of a duck I am."
"I know what kind of a duck you are, Jurgens," said Townsend, sternly, "and if you know when you're well off, you'll leave Motor Matt and his friends alone."
"Sixty dollars," cried Jurgens, hotly, "and this gang can take it or leave it."
"You go with me," declared McMillan, twisting his left hand in the collar of Carl's bathing suit.
"Nonsense, officer!" said Townsend. "You're making a mountain out of a molehill. Let the boy alone."
"I know my business," snarled the officer, "an' I don't have to have strangers blow in here an' tell me what to do."