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  MOTOR STORIES

  THRILLING
  ADVENTURE

  MOTOR
  FICTION

  NO. 32
  OCT. 2, 1909

  FIVE
  CENTS

  MOTOR MATT'S
  DOUBLE-TROUBLE

  OR THE LAST
  OF THE HOODOO

  _BY THE AUTHOR OF
  "MOTOR MATT"_

  _STREET & SMITH
  PUBLISHERS
  NEW YORK_

[Illustration: _"Stop!" shouted Motor Matt laying back on the end of
the rope_]




MOTOR STORIES

THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION

_Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Copyright, 1909, by_
STREET & SMITH, _79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York, N. Y._

  =No. 32.=      NEW YORK, October 2, 1909.      =Price Five Cents.=




Motor Matt's Double Trouble

OR,

THE LAST OF THE HOODOO.

By the author of "MOTOR MATT."




CONTENTS


  CHAPTER I. THE RED JEWEL.
  CHAPTER II. ANOTHER END OF THE YARN.
  CHAPTER III. SHOCK NUMBER ONE.
  CHAPTER IV. SHOCKS TWO AND THREE.
  CHAPTER V. A HOT STARTER.
  CHAPTER VI. M'GLORY IS LOST--AND FOUND.
  CHAPTER VII. "POCKETED."
  CHAPTER VIII. SPRINGING A "COUP."
  CHAPTER IX. MOTOR MATT'S CHASE.
  CHAPTER X. THE CHASE CONCLUDED.
  CHAPTER XI. A DOUBLE CAPTURE.
  CHAPTER XII. ANOTHER SURPRISE.
  CHAPTER XIII. BAITING A TRAP.
  CHAPTER XIV. HOW THE TRAP WAS SPRUNG.
  CHAPTER XV. BACK TO THE FARM.
  CHAPTER XVI. CONCLUSION.
  HUDSON AND THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE.
  THE DEATH BITE.
  MIGRATION OF RATS.
  SOME GREAT CATASTROPHES.




CHARACTERS THAT APPEAR IN THIS STORY.


  =Matt King=, otherwise Motor Matt.

  =Joe McGlory=, a young cowboy who proves himself a lad of worth and
  character, and whose eccentricities are all on the humorous side. A
  good chum to tie to--a point Motor Matt is quick to perceive.

  =Tsan Ti=, Mandarin of the Red Button, who continues to fall into
  tragic difficulties, and to send in "four-eleven" alarms for the
  assistance of Motor Matt.

  =Sam Wing=, San Francisco bazaar-man, originally from Canton, and
  temporarily in the employ of Tsan Ti. By following his evil thoughts
  he causes much trouble for the mandarin, and, incidentally, for the
  motor boys.

  =Philo Grattan=, a rogue of splendid abilities, who aims to steal a
  fortune and ends in being brought to book for the theft of a motor
  car.

  =Pardo=, a pal of Grattan.

  =Neb Hogan=, a  brother whose mule, stolen by Sam Wing, plays
  a part of considerable importance. Neb himself engineers a surprise
  at the end of the story, and goes his way so overwhelmed with good
  luck that he is unable to credit the evidence of his senses.

  =Banks and Gridley=, officers of the law who are searching for the
  stolen blue motor.

  =Boggs=, a farmer who comes to the aid of Motor Matt with energy and
  courage.

  =Bunce=, a sailor with two good eyes who, for some object of his
  own, wears a green patch and prefers to have the public believe he
  is one-eyed. A pal of Grattan, who is caught in the same net that
  entangles the rest of the ruby thieves.




CHAPTER I.

THE RED JEWEL.


Craft and greed showed in the eyes of the hatchet-faced Chinaman. He
seemed to have been in deep slumber in the car seat, but the drowsiness
was feigned. The train was not five minutes out of the town of Catskill
before he had roused himself, wary and wide-awake, and looked across
the aisle. His look and manner gave evidence that he was meditating
some crime.

It was in the small hours of the morning, and the passenger train was
rattling and bumping through the heavy gloom. The lights in the coach
had been turned low, and all the passengers, with the exception of the
thin-visaged Celestial, were sprawling in their uncomfortable seats,
snoring or breathing heavily.

Across the aisle from this criminally inclined native of the Flowery
Kingdom was another who likewise hailed from the land of pagodas and
mystery; and this other, it could be seen at a glance, was a person of
some consequence.

He was fat, and under the average height. Drawn down over his shaven
head was a black silk cap, with a gleaming red button sewn in the
centre of the flat crown. From under the edge of the cap dropped
a queue of silken texture, thick, and so long that it crossed the
Chinaman's shoulder and lay in one or two coils across his fat knees.

Yellow is the royal color in China, and it is to be noted that this
Celestial's blouse was of yellow, and his wide trousers, and his
stockings--all yellow and of the finest Canton silk. His sandals were
black and richly embroidered.

From the button and the costume, one at all informed of fashions as
followed in the country of Confucius might have guessed that this stout
person was a mandarin. And that guess would have been entirely correct.

To go further and reveal facts which will presently become the reader's
in the logical unfolding of this chronicle, the mandarin was none other
than Tsan Ti, discredited guardian of the Honam joss house, situated
on an island suburb of the city of Canton. He of the slant, lawless
gleaming eyes was Sam Wing, the mandarin's trusted and treacherous
servant.

A Chinaman, like his Caucasian brother, is not always proof against
temptation when the ugly opportunity presents itself at the right time
and in the right way. Sam Wing believed he had come face to face with
such an opportunity, and he was determined to make the most of it.

Sam Wing was a resident of San Francisco. He owned a fairly prosperous
bazaar, and, once every year, turned his profits into Mexican dollars
and forwarded the silver to an uncle in Canton for investment in the
land of his birth. Some day Sam Wing cherished the dream of returning
to Canton and living like a grandee. But wealth came slowly. Now, there
in that foreign devil's choo-choo car such a chance offered to secure
unheard-of riches that Sam Wing's loyalty to the mandarin, no less
than his heathen ideas of integrity, were brushed away with astounding
suddenness.

Tsan Ti slept. His round head was wabbling on his short neck--rolling
and swaying grotesquely with every lurch of the train. The red button
of the mandarin's cap caught the dim rays of the overhead lamps and
threw crimson gleams into the eyes of Sam Wing. This flashing button
reminded Sam Wing of the red jewel, worth a king's ransom, which the
mandarin was personally conveying to San Francisco, en route to China
and the city of Canton.

Already Sam Wing was intrusted with the mandarin's money bag--an
alligator-skin pouch containing many oblong pieces of green paper
marked with figures of large denomination. The money was good, what
there was of it, but that was not enough to pay for theft and flight.
Sam Wing's long, talon-like fingers itched to lay hold of the red jewel.

With a swift, reassuring look at the passengers in the car, Sam Wing
caught at the back of the seat in front and lifted himself erect. He
was not a handsome Chinaman, by any means, and he appeared particularly
repulsive just at that moment.

Hanging to the seat, he steadied himself as he stepped lightly across
the aisle. Another moment and he was at the mandarin's side, looking
down on him.

Tsan Ti, in his dreams, was again in Canton. Striding through the great