CHAPTER VIII.
THE RABBITT'S FOOT.
Major Woolford wanted Matt in that bicycle-race. He hadn't any idea whythe boy hung back at the try-out, or why he was thinking of leavingtown, but in showing him the prize that went to the victor he hadplayed a trump card.
Matt's bosom swelled as he eyed the beautiful machine, and hismind circled about ways and means for staying in Phoenix until thePhoenix-Prescott athletic meet. What Matt had received for his bicycle,together with what little money he already possessed, was barelysufficient to land him in Denver. If he stayed on in Phoenix, and usedup some of this money for living-expenses, he might have a motor-cyclewhen he was ready to leave the place, but how was he to get to Denver?
Even as he put the question to himself, quick as a flash the answercame: "Ride the _Comet_ to Denver, to Chicago, to New York--whereveryou want to go!" The idea electrified the boy.
"I'll be in that race, major," he cried, turning to the president ofthe athletic club, "_and I'll win the prize_!"
"Sure you will!" exclaimed the delighted major. "I reckoned you'd stayas soon as you saw what the prize was to be. A lad who likes motors aswell as you do wouldn't let a machine like that get away from him."
"Who races for Prescott?" asked Matt.
"A local celebrity called Newton O'Day. Perry beat O'Day in thebicycle-race last year, and although I hear O'Day has developed aphenomenal burst of speed since then, I shouldn't wonder if Perry couldrepeat the trick."
"Then you don't really need me, major?" said Matt.
"You bet we do! Perry is so crooked he can't walk around the blockwithout running into himself. I might trust him as a last resort, butit would certainly have to be that. The two clubs come together twoweeks from to-day, and you're down for our side in the bicycle event,King, with Perry for second choice in case anything should happen tokeep you away. But you don't want to let anything happen; see?" Themajor talked with great earnestness and laid a confiding hand on Matt'sshoulder. "After what happened at the park this afternoon it might bejust as well for you to step high, wide and handsome, and keep eyes inthe back of your head. We're counting on you, don't forget that." Themajor turned to his driver. "Take King's machine back into the garage,Mike," he added. "We're going to turn it over to him in a couple ofweeks."
"You bet you are, major," averred Matt, "if racing will win it."
He walked to his boarding-place with a bounding heart, and seemed to bestepping on air. Ever since motor-cycles had been on the market he haddreamed of owning one. Now there was a chance that his dream would cometrue, and that he was to own a seven-horse-power marvel, fleet as thewind. Small wonder the boy was elated.
The machinery of the _Comet_ was controlled by the grip on thehandle-bars, and by various flexible twists of the wrist. Matt's gamearm had suffered somewhat through manipulating the grip control, but bythe time the _Comet_ was his he knew his arm would be as well as ever.
Matt lodged on First Avenue, in the home of a woman who had lost herhusband in a mining explosion, and had been compelled to take boardersfor a living. He had a pleasant front room on the second floor, andwhen he bounded up-stairs and burst into his private quarters he was alittle bit surprised to find Chub there. There was an ominous look onChub's freckled face.
"Somebody died and left you a million?" inquired Chub. "You look aschipper as an Injun squaw with a string of new beads."
"Well," laughed Matt, "I do feel just a little hilarious."
"It must have tickled you a whole lot to pull out of that smash by theskin of your teeth," muttered Chub. "Shucks, Matt, I never saw a fellowthat takes things like you do."
"It's twice as easy to laugh at your troubles, Chub, as to throw a fitand pull a long face. All a fellow needs is to get the knack. But I'vehad something else to help me buck up," and Matt, as he flung himselfinto a chair, proceeded to tell his chum about the motor-cycle, andabout his decision to stay in Phoenix for the athletic-club contests.
Chub's face brightened. Ever since he had learned that Matt was goingto leave town he had been more or less gloomy, and the knowledge thathe was to remain for the big meet was mighty cheering.
"Bully!" exclaimed Chub. "You'll win that motor-cycle handsdown--provided you're not interfered with."
"I'll not be interfered with, Chub," returned Matt confidently. "Forheaven's sake, don't go and make a wet blanket out of yourself. What'son your mind, anyhow? You're as blue as a whetstone."
Chub's face had gloomed up again. With hands jammed into his trouserspockets and with legs outstretched he slouched back in his chair andgrunted savagely.
"They can't fool me, nit," he growled. "A pistol went off when you werepassing the lower end of the grand stand, and that's what busted thetire. There's only one chap in school who could shoot like that, andhe's the only one, aside from Dace Perry, who'd try to do you any dirt.You know who I mean--Tom Clipperton."
"That's mighty slim evidence for a charge against Clipperton, Chub,"said Matt gravely. "Don't be rash."
"Rash!" muttered Chub. "You don't want to shut your eyes to what Clipcan do, Matt. He's never been more than half-tamed, and has a standinggrouch at everybody on account of his blood. I nagged him some thismorning, and he was ripe for anything when I whaled away with thatrock. And then to have him get the notion that _you_ threw it. Oh,gee!" Chub's discontent was morbid. "Say," he went on, "when Susieand I and Perk were coming from the track we met Clip going home withPerry, Spangler, Tubbits Drake and that bunch. I waltzed over and toldClip that he was off his mark a little about that rock, and that I,little Reddy Mac, was the author of that slam."
"You didn't?" exclaimed Matt.
"Don't you never think I didn't. But what good did it do? They gave methe frozen laugh, the whole gang of 'em, and Perry said it was a rawblazer of a play, and that I couldn't succeed in putting myself betweenyou and trouble. Now, Matt; Perry, Spangler, Drake and the others_know_ I let fly with that stone, and they're letting Clip think theother way so as to make him take you off Perry's hands."
Matt was thoughtful for a minute. "Well, what of it?" he askedpresently.
"What of it?" repeated Chub. "Oh, gee-whiskers! Can't you see what itmeans to have a real Injun in war-paint, like Clip, camped on yourtrail? Take it from me, Matt, it means trouble for you between now andthe day of the race."
"All right," said Matt cheerfully, "I've had trouble before."
"Not the sort Clip, with Perry and that cross-country team back of him,will hand out to you. Seems like I'm always making a mess of things,"Chub snorted. "That's the way Johnny Hardluck spars up to me. I get ina few whole-arm jabs and then, just as everything looks rosy, there'san error, and fate gets past my guard. This day's a sample. I beginwith powder and sulfuric acid, hit Clip below the belt with a referenceto his Injun blood, and then land on him with a corker of a rockintended for Perry. It wouldn't be so bad, Matt, if _you_ didn't comein for the consequences."
"Never mind me," laughed Matt. "I'm big for my size and old for my age,and I've always been able to take precious good care of number one.I'm sorry for Clip. His mixed blood worries him, and Perry knows howto keep him all worked up. But nobody knows just what happened at thetry-out, so don't do any wild guessing, Chub, and, above all, keep yourguesses to yourself."
"_I_ know what happened at the try-out," asserted Chub, "and there's noguess about it, either. Clip is superstitious. Remember that rabbit'sfoot, mounted on a silver band, he always carries as a luck-bringer?"
Everybody in the school knew about Clip's rabbit's foot. He had carriedit the year before when he had beaten Vance Latham, the Prescottchampion, in the mile race.
"What about that?" asked Matt, wondering what the luck-bringer had todo with the affair at the track.
"You know how the grand stand is built, out at the park," pursued Chub."Any one can get under it and look out onto the track between the boardseats. If any one wanted to, he could climb the timbers, rest thebarrel of a revolver on a board and make a good shot at any
one on thetrack. That notion struck me before I left the park this afternoon,and I stole away to do a little investigating. I'm beginning to thinkSherlock Holmes is a back number compared to me. Look here what littleReddy Hawkshaw found under the stand and close to the lower end!"
Chub jerked his right hand out of his pocket and flung an object atMatt. The latter caught it deftly. It was a silver-mounted rabbit'sfoot, attached to a piece of fine steel chain.
Matt drew in a quick breath and turned his startled eyes on Chub.
"_Now_ what have you got to say?" inquired Chub. "I'm the original,blown-in-the-bottle trouble-maker, but you can bet I haven't gone wrongon _this_!"