"Vy von't ve findt Yamousa?" inquired Carl, his face brightening a little.
Dick showed him the paragraph in the paper and Carl spelled it out, his face continuing to clear as he read.
"I don'd vish der olt foodoo voman any hardt luck," breathed Carl, "aber I vas gladder she ain'd dere as dot she vas. It vill be pedder for us. Are ve going to hit der air route?"
"Just as quick as we can," answered Matt briskly, hurrying to the car.
There was no wind to speak of, but it required manœuvring to guide the Hawk out from under the high roof and to the edge of the dock. The boys, after stowing the mooring ropes by which they had hauled the air ship into the open, got aboard the car and Matt started the engine.
A moment later the propeller took the push, and the Hawk glided up her airy path until she swung high over the City of New Orleans. People below could be seen running about and looking and pointing upward.
"We're causing quite a stir, mates," remarked Dick. "We'd cause more of a stir, though, if those people down there knew what we had in our noodles."
Carl ran out the American flag to the rear end of the air ship, and waved his cap. A cheer arose, weirdly distinct and inspiring.
"I feel in my pones," said Carl, "dot somet'ing iss going to habben. It's der olt hunch come pack. I hafen't felt dot for some leedle time. Aber I'd like to know," the Dutch boy added, as he floundered back to his post forward, "who it vas sent dot ledder."
"One of the gang may have weakened, or have been left out in the division of the booty," said Matt, laying his course calmly, and feeling very much at home and contented, now that he was running his beloved motor again. "The house in Prytania Street, you know, was watched night and day. It was spied upon yesterday afternoon and night while Jurgens, Whistler, and Bangs must have been laying their plans. It's my idea that there is another member of the gang, and perhaps it is this fourth man who wrote the letter."