CHAPTER XII.
A STOUT HEART AND PLENTY OF HOPE.
Dace Perry was only half an hour in the lead!
Had he been mounted on Motor Matt's two-cylinder, seven-horse-powermarvel, this would have meant that, with fearless and skilful riding,he was already in Phoenix; but Perry was on a one-cylinder machine,that would have to be nursed by a proficient rider in order to do eventhirty miles an hour.
Matt figured that Perry would do twenty, or twenty-five. In otherwords, Perry's lead, as Matt reckoned it, was ten or twelve miles.Could the _Comet_ reel off a score of miles while Perry was doing theeight or ten that lay between him and the recorder's office?
Reason assured Matt that he had a fighting chance. There was a mile aminute in the _Comet_ if Matt cared to let her go the limit and riskhis neck.
Notch by notch he opened her out. Why not do a mile a minute? There wasless sand just ahead and better ground. Besides, he was working forChub and Susie, and what good was a fellow who wouldn't risk his neckfor his friends?
This was a race for a fortune. It made little difference to MotorMatt that it was a fortune for the McReadys and not for himself thattrembled in the balance.
The hills melted away behind the speeding motor-cycle. The rise andfall of the road had little effect on the speed, and the tremendousmomentum of one hundred and fifty pounds of steel, backed by a hundredand thirty more of brawn and daring, fairly lifted the _Comet_ over thehigh places.
Ahead of Matt were a horse and rider. The horse was galloping inMatt's direction, but took the roadside at a frightened leap as themotor-cycle sped by.
The horseman shouted and waved an arm. It was Tom Clipperton, thedescendant of a noble line of genuine owners of the soil--the Indians.What he said Matt could not hear, and Matt dared not take a hand fromthe grip-control to wave an answering hail. However, he yelled agreeting, and the cry trailed out behind him and died suddenly in thespeed of his flight.
That was not the first time Motor Matt had raced along the Black Canyonroad. He had done it once before, but his speed then was not what itwas now. That other time the _Comet_ was new to him, but since that hehad come to know the machine in every part as he knew his two hands.
Before he fairly realized it, he was at the canal. The _Comet_ seemedto take the bridge at a flying leap, and was off and away through shadylanes of cottonwood-trees.
He passed several wagons and carriages coming toward him. They gotout of the way and gave his charging steel wonder a wide berth.Occasionally he had to slow down to pass a vehicle moving towardPhoenix, but not often. The road was wide, and clean, and hard fromedge to edge.
Speed and more speed! That was all Matt was thinking of then. The itchto eat up the miles as they had never been devoured before was racinghot through his veins. He would make a record from the hills to Phoenixthis time which would stand unequaled for a long time.
He whirred across the second canal. His next bridge would be theone that spanned the town-ditch, and then he would be only a shorthalf-mile from the court-house plaza, and the place where locationnotices were put on file.
As he struck the last lap of country road and looked away towardthe beginning of the angling thoroughfare known as Grand Avenue, heglimpsed a flurry of dust. That was Perry, fanning along on theone-cylinder machine.
Matt was gaining on Perry hand over fist. As the dust blew aside, Mattcould see Perry looking back, then turning again and coaxing Penny'swheel to fresh endeavor.
"I've got him," thought Matt exultantly, "and he knows it! He'll beginto understand, one of these days, that crooked work can make lots oftrouble, but was never known to pay in the long run."
Perry, no doubt, was greatly astounded at sight of Motor Matt. Hehad left Matt in the hands of Jacks and Bisbee, and he had left the_Comet_ temporarily useless. Small wonder if his brain _was_ dazed andbewildered by the sight of that hurricane closing in on him from therear.
If Chub and Clip had any fault to find with Matt, it was because theythought him too "easy." This was because he had a habit of looking forthe good qualities in a fellow, rather than for the bad ones. Perry,according to Matt, would have been all right if he hadn't got a wrongstart; and Matt had even hinted to Chub that there might be somethinggood even in that scheming follower of fortune's wheel, Dirk Hawley.
Chub and Clip couldn't understand this kind of talk. They realized thatit didn't show weakness, for they had sampled Matt's fiber too manytimes not to know his underlying strength of character. So they laidit up to eccentricity, and called it a hobby. Matt, however, called ita "principle"--and he had been known to fight like a wildcat for his"principles."
Matt's mind was resting easy. He felt that the race was as good as won,that he would soon pass Perry, reach the court-house, and have theMcReady location on file a good two minutes before Perry could reachthe plaza.
And just at that moment, when the whole matter of the McReady "strike"was looking its brightest, the unexpected happened again and changedthe complexion of affairs.
Matt was close to Perry--not more than a couple of hundred feet behindhim, and still gaining rapidly--when he saw a white horse, ridden bya well-dressed young woman, riding toward them from the direction ofGrand Avenue.
The horse was mettlesome and high-spirited, and the sight of Perry'smotor-cycle sent the animal leaping toward the roadside. The girl was agood rider--Matt could see that at a glance--but the horse was givingher all she could manage.
Perry's proper move, in such a case, would have been to slow down--evento stop, if the actions of the horse and the safety of the rider seemedto demand it.
But Perry was thinking only of the recorder's office and neverslackened pace.
The white horse plunged against the fence and reared high in the air.The girl, however, clung pluckily to the saddle.
Matt, completely absorbed in the girl's peril, lessened his speed andwatched the progress of events. Then, with his heart in his throat, heshut off the gasoline and clamped on the brake.
One of the reins had snapped apart during the girl's frantic tugging atthe bit. Entirely out of control, the frenzied animal flung off downthe road, the piece of rein dangling from the bit-ring and the girlclinging desperately to the saddle. Her hat was lost and her yellowhair was streaming out behind her.
Matt's first impulse had been to leave his machine and rush tothe girl's assistance, but before he could pull his feet from thetoe-clips, the horse was past him and careering along on its wildcourse.
There are times when, in the space of a lightning-flash, a person'smind will deal with every conceivable phase of a situation. It was likethat with Matt as the white horse and helpless rider went tearing pasthim.
Unless something was done to stop the runaway animal, the girl wouldprobably be thrown and perhaps killed. Against what he might do for thegirl, Matt, for the fraction of an instant, balanced his duty to theMcReadys. Then he used the pedals, turned on the gasoline, and switchedon the spark. But instead of going on to Phoenix and the recorder'soffice, he turned the _Comet_ and raced after the girl.