Read Motor Matt's Century Run; or, The Governor's Courier Page 5


  CHAPTER V.

  THE RED ROADSTER.

  As Matt hurried out of the capitol building he found Clip at the curb,waiting for him. Clip's motor-cycle was leaning against a hitchingpost, and there was an ominous look on Clip's swarthy face--a look thatsomehow reminded one of his grim Indian ancestors, for Clip was proudof the fact that one of his grandparents had been a full-blood nativeof the soil.

  "What's on?" he asked, as Matt rolled the _Comet_ off the walk and intothe street.

  "I've got to do a hard 'century' in five hours," answered Matt, "andyou're to go with me as long as you can keep up."

  A gleam of satisfaction darted through Clip's eyes.

  "I was looking for your machine," said he. "Where'd you leave it, Matt?"

  "Left it at the steps, in charge of the janitor. Didn't intend to giveany one a chance to tamper with it. How's your gasoline-tank, Clip?"

  "Full."

  "Plenty of oil?"

  Clip nodded.

  "Same here," went on Matt. "We've got to carry two quarts more ofgasoline with us, and we'll pick it up at Brigham's."

  Brigham's was a general store in the "Five Points," and on the boys'direct course to the Black Canyon road. The machines were soon hustlingthrough Washington Street as fast as the speed regulations would allow.

  "Going up Castle Creek Canyon?" asked Clip, while he and Matt weregliding along side by side.

  "How'd you know that, Clip?" returned Matt.

  "Then it's true," muttered Clip darkly. "By thunder!"

  The quarter-blood's manner was full of mysterious foreboding.

  "What's true?" came from Matt sharply.

  "A red automobile stood in front of the capitol. Was there when Icame up. A rough-looking fellow was in the driver's seat. Anothertough-looking man ran out of the building and jumped into the red car.'Motor Matt's carrying a message,' I heard the second man say to thedriver. 'Castle Creek Canyon, Jem, on the high speed.' Trouble ahead,Matt," Clip added.

  Matt was astounded.

  "Was that all you heard, Clip?" he asked.

  "That was all."

  "Ever see the two men before?"

  "No."

  "What kind of a car was it?"

  "Roadster. Looked like it could go."

  Matt puzzled over this disquieting information all the way toBrigham's. They were held up about five minutes at the general store,buying a couple of two-quart canteens and having them filled withgasoline. When they left the Five Points and shot along Grand Avenue,each had a receptacle securely lashed to the head of his machine.

  Thirty miles an hour was about the limit of Clip's motor-cycle. Cliphad recently bought the machine of Ed Penny, and had equipped it withnew tires, so that it was in a perfectly serviceable condition.

  Twenty miles an hour for five hours would turn the trick. But that wastoo close figuring. The boys were a quarter of an hour late gettingaway. This time would have to be made up, and, besides that, Mattwanted to gain on the schedule so as to have a little leeway forpossible accidents.

  "How's the going between the Arizona Canal and Castle Creek Canyon,Clip?" queried Matt, as they whirled into the Black Canyon road.

  "Fine to Frog Tanks," answered Clip. "From there to the canyon not sogood. In the canyon it's mighty poor."

  "Then we'll have to make all the time we can at this end of the route.Open 'er up, Clip!"

  Both boys opened the throttles and let the reserve power shoot throughthe machinery. The needle of Matt's speedometer indicated thirty-twomiles an hour.

  "Great!" cried Matt, after giving Clip the figures. "That littleone-cylinder is just naturally humping herself, Clip. We've got fivehours for the trip, but at this pace we could almost do it in three."

  "Hard trail in the canyon, Matt. There'll be plenty of lost time there.What's the game, anyway?"

  Matt explained as they dashed along. The excitement of the work aheadbrought a glow to Clip's eyes.

  "Fine!" he exclaimed. "Motor Matt, the Governor's Courier! You'll getthrough on time even if I can't."

  "Whether you're in at the finish or not, Clip, we split that hundreddollars right in two in the middle. If we ever get started for Denver,old chap, the money will help."

  "But that red roadster!" scowled Clip. "How did those roughs get nextto this work of yours?"

  "That's too many for me," answered Matt.

  "They must have suspected something. They were there, in front of thecapitol, waiting. Mighty queer!"

  Matt's lips compressed into a thin line and his eyes flashed.

  "We'll have to keep a keen look-out for trouble," said he, "and dodgeit, if any comes our way."

  A few minutes later they were crossing the bridge over the ArizonaCanal. Matt pulled out his old silver watch.

  "Only sixteen minutes to one," he announced, with a note of exultation,"and we're fifteen miles on our way."

  "Thirty miles to Frog Tanks and twenty to the next water," said Clip."We ought to have brought a water-canteen, too. The heat is somethingfierce."

  "We'll drink at the well, Clip, and pick up something to eat at thesame place. We ought to be there in forty minutes, at the outside."

  After they left the Black Canyon road, just beyond the bridge, Matt wasin a country entirely new to him. The road was a bit cut up and sandyin places, but Clip whaled his machine along and they did a triflebetter than thirty miles.

  Two or three roads entered the one they were following, and they wereall as well traveled. Here Matt's wisdom in bringing Clip along, evenat the loss of some speed on the _Comet's_ part, was made manifest. Butfor Clip, Matt might have gone astray on the wrong trail.

  The boys were now in the region of big sahuara cacti, and the greattrunks flashed past them as telephone-poles recede behind a rushingtrain.

  In the dusty places of the road the broad tracks left by the tires ofan automobile could be plainly seen. The red roadster was ahead ofthem. Matt studied the skyline in advance, wondering how far away thetwo ruffians were and what their designs could be. He saw nothing ofthe red car, and presently the square walls and flat roof of an adobehouse broke on his vision.

  Behind the house was a primitive stable, thatched with grass, and asmall corral constructed of ocotilla poles braided together with wire.Between the house and stable was an iron pump and a watering-trough.

  "That's the ranch where we get our water," remarked Clip. "Two bitsapiece for a drink. There's Gregory, the rancher, out in front."

  Gregory, the rancher, got up in surprise as the boys came to a stop atthe pump. He stared at the machines.

  "Waal, I'll be hanged!" he muttered. "They've got them hossless wagonson four wheels an' two wheels. Reckon they'll be havin' 'em on onewheel next. Dry? Help yerself. Two bits apiece fer all ye kin swaller.Water costs money in the desert."

  Leaning their machines against the water-trough, the boys began workingthe pump.

  "Did you see a horseless wagon on four wheels go past here, Mr.Gregory?" asked Matt.

  "Sure. Two fellers was on the seat. They stopped fer water an' thenhiked right on, jest as though they was in a hurry ter git some'r's.Friends o' your'n?"

  "No, we don't know them," answered Matt. "How long since they passed?"

  "Less'n five minutes."

  "Got anything to eat in your place?" went on Matt. "We can't stop morethan a minute or two."

  "Sho!" exclaimed the man. "Ever'body 'pears ter be in a hurry thisarternoon. I got jerked beef, crackers, an' all kinds o' canned goods,say nothin' erbout----"

  "'Jerked' and crackers'll do," interrupted Clip. "We'll go in, Gregory.Get us a hand-out we can tote in our pockets."

  "Sartain," answered Gregory.

  The boys were not in the adobe house to exceed five minutes, and theywouldn't have been there to exceed three if Gregory had been a littlemore spry in his movements. Stuffing their crackers and dried beefinto their pockets, they ran out of the house and to their machines.Scarcely taking time to look the motor-cycles over, they pulled th
emupright and got into the saddles.

  Matt pedaled away, twisting on the gasoline and the spark. But themotor did not work--he was still pushing the machine ahead with thepedals. He halted to investigate and find out what was wrong, and atthat moment a startled cry came from Clip.

  Matt looked around. Clip was having the same trouble getting hismotor-cycle started. But Clip had made another discovery which sent ashock of consternation through both him and Matt.

  "Our gasoline-cans!" cried Clip. "Where are they?"

  Then, for the first time, Matt saw that his reserve supply of gasolinehad been removed from the head of the _Comet_. Clip's can haddisappeared in the same mysterious manner. With a sudden, paralyzingthought, Matt examined the tank back of his saddle.

  _The tank was empty!_

  Doubling up his fists, Clip jumped for Gregory. The latter sprang backand stared at Clip in astonishment.

  "You know who did it!" shouted Clip menacingly. "The men on that redroadster hired you to stop us! You had some one hiding here. While wewere in the house the gasoline was taken away. We'll give you a minuteto get it back. Sixty seconds, Gregory!"

  The rancher continued to stare.

  "I don't know nothin' about what you're gittin' at," he mutteredblankly. "I ain't makin' trouble fer no one, an' them other fellersdidn't hire me ter do a thing. Keep away, I tell ye! Thar's two o' you,but I'll give ye a hot time if ye git too hostile!"

  Gregory picked up an ax as he stepped back, and then stood confrontingthe boys threateningly.