CHAPTER X.
BLANKED.
Only two shots were fired. Before the two scoundrels in the road couldsend any more bullets after Matt and his friends, their car had sweptback into the road and the other automobile acted as a barricade.
"Siwash must have known who we were," remarked McGlory. "How do youreckon he found that out?"
"The way we kept on going when he ordered us to halt was enough forhim," said Matt.
"I'll bet it was a surprise," chuckled McGlory. "Wish I could be closeto Murg when he hears about it. We're in the lead, now, and I hope wecan keep it."
"If the motor hangs together," returned Black, "we'll not only keep it,but increase it. That's a murderous gang, back there," he added. "Theremust be something mighty important awaiting you fellows at the posttrader's to cause Siwash Charley to break loose like that!"
"Murgatroyd is back of it," said Matt.
"Murgatroyd? There's a double-dyed scoundrel, if I ever knew one."
Black's expressing himself in this manner opened the way for Matt totell him the true inwardness of that night's work.
"You're the sort of fellows I like to help!" cried Black, as soon asMatt had placed the situation before him. "It's a fine thing for Mrs.Traquair, and it speaks mighty well for you that you've jumped intothis thing like you've done. Not many young fellows would have goneto all that trouble, with the prospect of a broken neck, or a bulletbetween the ribs as a possible reward. But let me tell you something,Motor Matt."
Black spoke very earnestly, and commanded the instant attention of theking of the motor boys.
"What's that, Mr. Black?"
"If I were you, I'd be more afraid of that a?roplane than of SiwashCharley or Murgatroyd."
"Flying the a?roplane is the least of my worries. I'm sure I can handleit all right."
"Don't be too sure. Traquair invented the machine, and it stands toreason that he knew it as well as any human being could; but see whathappened! Something snapped, a gust of wind hit the a?roplane, and thewhole business came down like a piece of lead."
"Accidents are always liable to happen, of course," said Matt; "theonly thing to do is to guard against them as well as you can, and doyour best."
"This North Dakota wind is a hard thing to figure on," pursued Black."It gathers terrific force coming across the prairies, and it's liableto come up quick. I don't think Traquair's a?roplane could stand asixty-mile-an-hour wind."
"She couldn't make any headway against it, but I believe she could bekept upright."
"That's your look out, Motor Matt, and I don't want to throw any wetblanket on your hopes. Be careful, that's all, and----"
Black broke off with an angry exclamation. The motor began to missfire, and finally came to a stop.
Matt, his head inclined, had been listening sharply.
"What's the matter now?" asked Black, getting out.
"It's the carburetor, now," said Matt. "Sounds to me as though it wasclogged."
The carburetor was taken apart and freed of the obstruction that keptthe gasoline out of the mixing chamber.
A delay of half an hour was caused, and while they were at a halt ananxious look out was kept along the road, behind. Much to the reliefof the boys and the real estate man, the other car failed to put in anappearance.
"They must be hung up with something serious," observed Black, as heonce more started the car in the direction of Lallie.
"It can't be too serious to suit me," laughed McGlory. "I won't makeany kick if they're kept back there on the road for a week."
"No such luck as that, Joe," said Matt.
Black was about to say something more when the motor went wrong again.It began to pound furiously.
Black's exasperation reached a point where he was tempted to saythings. Matt, however, laughed at his impatience, and proceeded toright the trouble, warning his friends to keep a sharp look along theback track while he was doing it.
There was an hour's delay, this time, but still the other car did notshow up, and Matt and his companions finally continued on their way,congratulating themselves that they were still in the lead.
Not much time was spent in Lallie. The town was dark, and all theinhabitants had undoubtedly been abed and asleep for several hours.
Matt looked at his watch just as they were bumping over the railroadtracks into the northeast road that led to Totten.
"Two o'clock," announced Matt.
Black groaned.
"Elegant time we're making," said he, "but we'll be at the posttrader's by three o'clock, providing we don't have any more breakdowns."
This road was not nearly so good as the one they had been following,mainly because it was not so well traveled. Not more than fifteen milesan hour could be made.
"There's another road to Totten from Oberon," observed Black. "Thatroad comes into this one about five miles this side of Totten. We'llsoon be at the forks, now. I didn't suggest taking the Oberon road,because it's a good deal worse than the one we're following."
When they were close to the forks, the creak of a wagon reached theirears, and the gas lamps showed them a loaded vehicle just pulling intothe Oberon road. This was the first team they had met since leavingJamestown.
"Say, there!" yelled a man on the wagon. "Slow up a little with thatchug cart o' yourn, will ye? My hosses ain't used ter sich sights."
Black lessened the speed and came on more slowly. The wagon was at astandstill, and the horses were snorting and rearing against the pole.The car got past without causing an accident, however, and, a littleafter three, drew up in front of the post trader's store.
The store was at the foot of a hill which overlooked the lake, and wassurrounded by the fort. As was to be expected, the store was dark, andseemed deserted.
"Benner lives in the back part," said Black. "Go around the side of thebuilding, Matt, and knock on the door. You'll not be long getting himup. I'll wait here till I see what luck you have, and then I'll put upthe car and bunk down somewhere for the rest of the night."
Matt and McGlory jumped out of their seats and followed around theplank wall of the building. Although it was dark as Egypt in the shadowof the wall, yet they succeeded in locating the door, and pounded aloud summons on its panels.
The post trader was a sound sleeper, and it took three or four minutesto develop any signs of life within the dark store building.
At last, however, they could hear some one stirring around. A lightappeared in a window, and a shuffling step was heard approaching thedoor.
"If you're Injuns," cried an angry voice, "get out! You can come afterwhat you want in the mornin'."
"We're not Indians," said Matt. "Are you Mr. Benner?"
"That's my name, yes."
"Then we've got important business with you. Please open the door."
"Beats all a feller can't have no sleep," grumbled Mr. Benner, shovinga bolt and jerking the door open.
A big, sandy-haired man, in undershirt and trousers, stood confrontingthe boys, a flickering candle upheld in his right hand.
"What d'ye want?" demanded Benner.
"Here's a paper I want you to read," answered Matt, taking from hispocket Mrs. Traquair's order for the a?roplane, and handing it to thepost trader.
Benner grabbed the paper in his left hand, and held the candle in frontof it.
"Jumpin' Mariar!" he gasped. "Here's an order for that bloomin' flyin'machine."
"Yes. We're here to take charge of it, Mr. Benner."
"Oh, y' are, eh? Well, I haven't got it. Looks kinder suspicious, too,this here order does."
"Haven't got it?" repeated Matt, staring at McGlory.
"Ain't I tellin' ye?" answered Benner in an irritated tone.
"Did some men come here in an automobile, a little while ago, and takeit away?"
"Any one would have played hob takin' that flyin' machine away in anautomobile," scowled Benner. "There's somethin' mighty queer aboutthis. Step inside, you two, an' I'll show you that telegram."
>
Intensely disappointed, the two boys stepped into the room. Bennerplaced the candle on the table, and picked up a yellow sheet, which hehanded to Matt.
"That come to the fort, about two hours ago, an' the leftenant sent itdown ter me," explained Benner. "I had to hustle some, but I workedthrough the trick. Now, less'n an hour after I get to bed, here youfellers come askin' for the flyin' machine. That's more'n I kinunderstand, that is."
The telegram read as follows:
"Send flying machine on the jump to Oberon. Get it off within an hour after you receive this. Will settle for your trouble with the man who brings it."
This message was addressed to the post trader, at Fort Totten; had beensent from Oberon, and was signed by "Mrs. Traquair."
"Oh, sufferin' dummies!" cried McGlory. "Blanked, or I'm a Piute!"
Matt was fully as much wrought up as was his chum.
"This message is a forgery, Mr. Benner!" he cried. "Mrs. Traquair isn'tin Oberon, and she never sent it."
"How was I ter know that?" snorted the post trader. "Soon's I got themessage, I routed out my man, Jake, an' we hitched up to the wagon,loaded on that consarned machine that I've been holdin here, an' Jakestarted with it fer Oberon."
The cowboy gave a groan, and fell over against the wall.
"That must have been him we passed, Matt," he murmured.
Without pausing to reply, Matt whirled and ran out of the room. Thea?roplane was on the road to Oberon, but the automobile could easilyovertake the wagon. It was well, however, not to lose any time.