CHAPTER XII.
THE BAG OF DIAMONDS.
Jurgens divined instantly that he had got himself into a seriouspredicament; but his predicament was even greater than the four boysimagined during the first part of their struggle with him.
The scoundrel fought with the fury of a cornered panther, clawing,kicking and even trying to use his teeth. Dashington exerted himselfentirely to prevent an outcry, and this left Matt to do most of thefighting until Carl and Dick hurled themselves through the door andlent their assistance.
With four against him, Jurgens had no hope; nevertheless, hisdesperation was so great that he vainly tried to continue his one-sidedbattle.
Carl found a piece of rope somewhere in the hut, and while he, andMatt, and Dashington held Jurgens, Dick put the lashings on his handsand feet and made them secure with hard and fast sailor's knots. Atwisted handkerchief tied between Jurgens' jaws relieved Dashington ofhis part of the work, and the boys got up breathlessly and looked downat their prisoner.
"That's because you didn't play square with me, Jurgens," saidDashington, leering into the baleful eyes of the man at his feet. "I'llback you against all comers, bar none, for being the most treacherouscrook in the business. But here's where you get it handed to you. Youhad it easy, last night, but here's where I give you the merry ha-ha."
Jurgens tried to talk, but succeeded only in emitting an incoherentgurgle behind the twisted handkerchief; then he strained desperately athis bonds, but Dick's knots were never known to slip.
"Oh, cut it out!" said Dashington. "The ball and chain are as good ason you so far as your chances for getting away are concerned. What doyou think of yourself, anyway? This is a regular calcimine finish, andyou're going to do time enough to keep you out of mischief for quite aspell."
"Vat's dis?" asked Carl, stooping down by the edge of the step andlifting a small canvas bag.
Dashington stared, then jumped into the air and shook his hat.
"Oh, no, this isn't luck!" he remarked, smothering his hilarity witha tremendous effort. "Not at all! And yet it's as natural as can be.Of course he wouldn't trust the sparks with either Whistler or Bangs.He keeps them himself, and when he goes out hunting for Motor Matt hetotes them along. The bag drops out as we roll off the step, and hidesitself up close to the wall of the cabin. Carl finds it--and maybewe're not all to the good? Take it from me, we are."
"Are the diamonds in that bag, Dash?" demanded Matt, scarcely daring tocredit his ears.
"Nowhere else, cull," exulted Dashington. "I couldn't forget that bag.It has played a big part in my life, even if it hasn't played a longone."
"Well, shiver me!" muttered Dick, dropping down on the step. "If that'snot what you call winding this up in handsome style, you can call me alubber. Motor Matt's luck--that's what did it."
"Hoop-a-la!" fluttered Carl, doing a two-step. "We're der fellers, unddon'd you forged dot! Der tiamonts is pack, we haf der tiamonts pack,und eferyt'ing iss so lofely as I can't tell. Hoop-a-la!"
"Stow it, neighbor!" warned Dashington. "We've got our hooks on thesparks, but we're not liable to keep them if you make too much noise.Whistler and Bangs are somewhere in the timber, so don't advertise thefact that we're here and have the stones. Look into the bag, Matt. Makesure it's no counterfeit."
"That's right," said Dick, tempering his glad feelings until a furtherexamination was made. "Open the pouch, Matt, and look into it. If theold hunks has fooled us with a bag of pebbles----"
"He hasn't," cut in Matt. "Look here!"
He pulled one hand from the bag and held up a diamond in the sun. Therecould be no doubt, after that.
"But are they _all_ there?" demanded Dashington. "The bag hasn't shrunkany since I first set my gig lamps onto it, still a few of the stonesmight have been taken out. What do you think?"
Matt, Carl and Dick had all seen the diamonds just as they had comefrom the idol's head, and they were all firmly of the belief that thestones in the bag bulked as large as ever.
"This," said Matt, after he had retied the bag and put it away in thebreast of his coat, "makes it necessary for us to clear out of here assoon as possible. The question is, how are we to do it?"
"The nearest burg is Chef Menteur," answered Dashington. "We could gothat far on our kicks and catch a train into N. O."
"Und leaf dot Jurgens feller pehindt?" protested Carl.
"He'd be something of a load to carry," said Dick.
"One of us could go to the nearest plantation and get a wagon,"suggested Dashington.
"Und vile dot feller vas gone, Whistler und Pangs mighdt show oop undblay hop mit der resdt oof us."
"There are four of us," said Matt, "and I think, if we had a long pole,we could hang Jurgens to it and carry him. He has been the ringleaderin every plot that was directed against Townsend and the iron chest.It's right that he should pay the penalty of his misdeeds, even ifWhistler and Bangs should never be caught. We let him go once, youremember, Dick, when he was in our hands, and now, just because of it,we lost the _Hawk_, and came within one of losing the diamonds."
"That's a good spiel Motor Matt is giving us," declared Dashington."I'll go and look for a long pole, and while I'm about it, you fellowstie Jurgens' hands in front of him."
Dashington was probably ten minutes getting the pole. By the time hewas back, Jurgens' hands had been released and rebound in front of him.The pole was slipped between his hands and feet, and Matt and Dick,at one end, and Carl and Dashington, at the other, lifted it to theirshoulders.
Jurgens hung downward, the pole catching the ropes that bound him andholding him suspended. His position was far from comfortable, but theboys could not help that.
"I'm wise to the road we've got to take," said Dashington, "so this endof the pole had better travel ahead. We'll come out on the turnpike ahalf mile the other side of where I saw the automobile. It won't bemany minutes before Bangs and Whistler will begin to wonder what becameof Jurgens and the sparks, and they'll probably go out on a hunt. Luckseems to be on our side, so I'm hoping they sidestep us."
The ends of the pole were shifted so that Carl and Dashington couldtravel ahead. Dashington had his bearings, and he led off as briskly ashe could, considering that the thick timber and the long pole made itnecessary to pick their way with some care.
"You can see, fellows," philosophized Matt, from the rear, "what greedwill do for a man. Jurgens wouldn't trust the diamonds with Whistlerand Bangs. He had to take them with him. If he hadn't had them, the bagof loot wouldn't be in our hands now."
"Jurgens is a four-ply wonder," said Dashington. "He was greedy withme, and that's how I came to scratch my entry in his free-for-allgrafting game, I hope they give him ninety-nine years at hard labor."
What Jurgens' thoughts were as he was pitched and swayed along andlistened to this talk, did not appear. He was probably meditating onthe changeable nature of human affairs, and thinking of the many timeshe had had the treasure of the Man from Cape Town in his hands and hadfailed, in the final pinch, to get away with it.
As they got farther and farther into the timber, Matt counseledsilence. They were drawing close to the road and their voices mightcarry to the ears of Whistler or Bangs, if they happened to be abroad.
After that the journey was continued in silence, the lads pausing, nowand then, to change the pole from one shoulder to the other.
Everything was going swimmingly, and Matt was looking ahead to an easyjaunt along the road into Chef Menteur, and then a comfortable ride onthe railroad back to New Orleans, when Carl and Dashington suddenlylaid back on the pole and whirled around to get the front end fartherback into the timber.
Matt and Dick were naturally surprised at this quick move. They were onthe point of speaking when Dashington laid a warning finger on his lipsand motioned for the pole and its burden to be let down.
"What's up?" whispered Matt, when Carl and Dashington had pressed close.
"The benzine cart is right ahead of us!" answered Dashington.
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"Oof ve hat gone anodder foot," added Carl, "ve vould haf come oudtrighdt on Whistler und Pangs."
"They're sitting in the front seats with a couple of rifles over theirknees," finished Dashington. "Go take a look, Matt."
Matt crept forward to a place from which he could get a good view ofthe wagon road. The automobile was pulled out on the roadside, andbrush had been cut and piled over the bonnet in order to screen the carfrom travelers along the highway.
Whistler and Bangs did not appear, as yet, to be very much worried overthe prolonged absence of Jurgens. They were lounging in the car, theirfeet on the dashboard and pipes between their lips. Bangs was in hisshirt sleeves, and across the lap of each lay a rifle.
As Motor Matt surveyed the situation, he felt a pang to think thatthose two rascals would escape the penalty of their evil actions. Thisthought led to another which caused the young motorist's pulses to leapwith an inspiration.
Turning in his tracks, he made his way silently back to his waitingcompanions.
"I've got a scheme, pards," he whispered. "How'd you like to ride backto New Orleans in Jurgens' automobile?"
"Who can run the thing, Matt?" asked Dashington.
"I can," was the answer. "I used to be in the business."
"How'll ve get der pupple?" inquired Carl.
"Here's the scheme," said Matt, and drew the other three close while hetalked.