[CHAPTER I.]
ON THE LEVEE.
"Py shiminy grickets!"
"Well, strike me lucky!"
"Can I pelieve vat I see mit my eyes, Tick, or haf I got der plind shtaggers?"
"I'm guessing good and hard, Carl. It's main queer, and no mistake."
"Py all der rules oof der game dot feller iss Matt King, oddervise Modor Matt, oddervise Mile-a-minute Matt, King oof der Modor Poys und Gaptain oof der air ship Hawk, aber I bed you I nefer see him like dot pefore."
"It's Matt, all right, but sink me if I'm not taken all aback by the way he acts. What's come over the old ship to do like that?"
It was about half-past four in the afternoon, and Carl Pretzel and Dick Ferral were on their way along the water front of New Orleans. They had gone into town on an important errand and were now returning to Stuyvesant Dock, where their air ship was moored and where they had expected to find Motor Matt.