Fully three hours had passed since the chest had been recovered and the Hawk and Matt had parted company. A good many things could happen in three hours, and Matt continued to feel worried.
As he was passing the Morgan Line Docks he saw Dick bearing down on him. The look of elation in Dick's face was indirect evidence that all was right with the Hawk.
"Hooray!" shouted the Canadian. "You were so long turning up, matey, that I was afraid something had happened to you. I hope we won't ever again part company like we did down there on the river. Confound this Louisiana wind, anyhow! It never blows twice from the same direction, seems like. You didn't row all the way to town against the current?"
"If I had, Dick," answered Matt, "I couldn't have got here before night. A lugger picked me up. Where's the Hawk?"
"Safely berthed on the big dock. I gave the dock watchman a five-dollar note to look after her and keep curious people away. We've stretched a rope around the air ship and no one can get within a dozen feet of her. She's as snug as possible, and there couldn't be a better place for her. Why, the dock's better than that old balloon house in South Chicago!"
"Where's Carl?"
"He went away with Bangs, and——"
"Bangs? Who's Bangs?"
"Why, he introduced himself to Carl and me as soon as we got the Hawk moored. He's a friend of Townsend's and has been hanging out on the levee looking for us ever since Townsend sent that telegram asking us to come. He was there by Townsend's orders, and was to tell us where to berth the Hawk and where to go our selves."
"I should think Townsend would have been there to meet us," observed Matt.