"I'm in wrong," replied Dashington, "but maybe I can get over that if you'll help. Suppose I join you and help you recover the diamonds. Will that pay for letting me start for unknown regions, and then doing the nice, genteel dip for the rest of the time I'm on earth?"
"I don't know why it won't," said Matt, in a kindly tone. "You look to me like a chap who could do big things if you went at it in the right way."
"Landed! Landed and strung! I'm hooked, King, and you might give me your hand. I've got the gaff from the strong-arm push for the last time. Just have your pal put that gun in his pocket and I'll feel easier."
"Put up the thing, Dick," said Matt. "Dash can be trusted. He's going to help us recover the diamonds, and in return for his service we're to let him go wherever he wants to."
"Aber vill he make goot mit vat he says?" chirped Carl.
"I'm Class A at making good," said Dashington, "when I tackle a job of my size. I can handle this one. But where's the balloonobile, the flying wonder that has shaken the Crescent City from centre to circumference, and clear across to Algiers? I haven't noticed it," and Dashington stepped to the door and made a hasty survey of the shore of the bayou.
"You're looking too low, mate," said Dick. "She bounced up on a live oak and you can't see her for moss."
Dashington whirled with a jump.
"Wrecked?"
"Demolished. She's sailed the skies for the last time, and it was a bullet brought her down."