CHAPTER VII.
BACK TO THE BLUEBELL.
"Nothin' hard about that!" gloried Chub, taking a look over hisshoulder from the top of the "rise." "Mister Man had a littlesurprise-party sprung on him that trip. Now it's down-hill--see usscratch gravel here! You're the clear quill, Matt. The way you workedthrough that trick was some fine!"
"Luck," answered Motor Matt. "It's bound to come a fellow's way nowand then. Tie something around the side of your throat, Chub. Thatwhip-lash knocked off a piece of skin."
"Felt like it had knocked off my head, at first. I'll tie it up when weget back to the Bluebell."
"What's the good of stopping at the Bluebell? Dace Perry is somewhereahead of us on a horse. You heard what the freighter said about Perry?"
"There didn't any of that get away from me, Matt. Gee! but that wassomethin' of a jolt. If Perry smashed that wireless machine in Phoenix,he didn't waste any time coverin' the twenty miles between there andthe Bluebell."
"He must have reached the mine while we were down in the workings,looking for Delray. He saw the two motor-cycles leaning against thewall of the house, and he didn't have to guess very hard to know whowas around. The freighter came along just at the right time--for Perry."
"Funny thing to me, Matt, that Perry didn't slash the tires."
"Probably he didn't have any too much time. Besides, he might havethought we could fix the tires, while if the motor-cycles were senton to Phoenix, we'd be a lot worse off than if we had the crippledmachines."
"Hawley's mighty clever--and don't you let that get past your guard fora minute! Whenever he lays out to do a thing, he's right on the jobfrom start to finish. What d'you suppose he's sent Dace Perry out herefor?"
"The way I size it up, Hawley wants to get some word to Jacks. Perrymust have been on his way to the hills when he stopped off at yourplace, Chub, and smashed the wireless instruments. The way we got holdof that letter on the bridge has raised trouble with Hawley's plans,and now he's rushing things for a quick finish. That means that we'vegot to hustle, too, if we save the 'strike' for the McReadys!"
"Well, I guess we can. You're a reg'lar whirlwind, Matt, when you startthe gasoline and switch on the spark. I'm not built for rapid work, butI guess I'll do with you for pacemaker. But see here, why didn't wepass Perry on the road? He left Phoenix before we did, and got to theBluebell behind us--and he had to come the Black Canyon road."
Matt had been thinking of that.
"It's a cinch we had to pass him, Chub," said he, "and we probably didit in the hills this side of the canal. If he saw us coming, it wouldbe easy for him to duck out of the way among the rocks."
"That's what he did!" declared Chub. "He had some reason to expect we'dbe at the Bluebell."
"And after helping load our machines into the wagon," continued Matt,"he spurred off to find Jacks and tell him we were on the way with thelocation notices." A grave look crossed Matt's face. "Something's goingto happen at the 'strike,' and we better not stop at the Bluebell anylonger than it takes to snatch up our coats."
They were now close to the Bluebell again, and were surprised to see aman run out of the house and wave a hand in their direction.
"It's Del!" cried Chub. "He's got back from wherever he was just intime to miss the fun."
"He's making a dead set for us," added Matt, "and is bringing ourcoats."
"Great glory!" exclaimed the watchman, as he drew near the place wherethe boys had stopped, "I've been doing a pile of guessing ever since Ipicked up these coats. What did you leave 'em for?"
"We haven't got much time to talk, Del," answered Matt. "While we werein the mine looking for you, Dace Perry rode up on horseback, and a manin a freight-wagon happened along at the same time. Perry hired the manto carry our machines to Phoenix, and Chub and I sprinted after him andgot them back. That's how we happened to leave our coats."
"Well, I'm blamed!" muttered Delray. "There's been a lot of strangedoings around here. This morning, while I was off to the spring gettingsome water, some one sneaked into the house and smashed the wirelessinstruments. What's goin' on, anyhow? Why should Dace Perry try to takethe motor-cycles away from you? Same old grouch, or is it somethingnew?"
"Have you heard anythin' from dad, Del?" put in Chub anxiously.
"No. Was he expecting to drop in here?"
"I got a letter from him sayin' he might, just to send me a wirelessmessage. He's five miles northwest of here," and Chub went on brieflyto tell of his father's "strike," the impending trouble with Jacks, andwhat Hawley was trying to do.
"That gambler seems to be botherin' you boys a whole lot lately,"remarked Delray. "If you've got those location blanks, Chub, you andMatt'd better hike right on and help your father out of his difficultybefore it gets any worse. And keep your eyes open, too. You've both hadexperience with Hawley, and know the kind of a man he is. If I can helpyou any here, count on me."
"We'll pull right out, Del," answered Chub. "Where were you when wewere going through the mine?"
"Taking a little _pasear_ through the hills, trying to see if I couldlocate the scoundrel that smashed the wireless instruments. You knowhow to get to the old pack-trail?"
"I was over part of it with dad once."
"Then hustle--and don't forget to keep your eyes skinned. I've got agun in the house if you'd like to borry it."
The boys were away before the last suggestion reached them, and Mattdid not think it worth while to turn back.
About a quarter of a mile north of the Bluebell, at a place where theBlack Canyon road ran through a small _barranca_, the boys came to theold pack-trail. A gully cut through the walls of the _barranca_ at asharp angle, and the pack-trail followed the bottom of the depression.
"Here's where we leave the main road, Matt," announced Chub. "That oldtrail ain't much more than a bridle-path, an' I don't know what sort ofwork our machines are going to make on it, but we'll go ahead and see."
"Sure," said Matt. "If Perry could get over the pack-trail on a horse,I guess we can get over it on our wheels."
"I'll take the lead," went on Chub, turning into the gully. "I don'tknow such a terrible lot about the trail, Matt, but I've been over alittle of it, and that's more than you have."
"All right, Chub," assented Matt, falling behind. "Keep a good watchahead. If you see Jacks blocking the path, don't run into him, that'sall."
The old trail had never been used for wagons, but had been exclusivelygiven over to pack-burros. Consequently it was narrow, and there wereplaces where bunches of cactus grew so close that the boys had to leavetheir saddles and trundle their machines past by hand, in order to keepthe sharp spines from puncturing the tires.
When the cactus bunches ceased to bother, the pack-trail swung intorocky ground, and the boys had to do some hair-raising stunts infollowing a bit of shelf with a sheer drop of thirty or forty feet onone side of them and a straight up-and-down wall on the other.
At last the trail climbed over a ridge and into easier ground. Hugepiles of rocks flanked both sides of the way, but the going was smoothand level.
While they were passing through this strip of country, Matt suddenlyheard voices behind him and to the left of the trail. The voices camefrom a considerable distance, and were muffled and indistinct, but Mattheard them plainly enough.
"Chub!" he called in a guarded tone, "ride around that pile of rocks onthe left. Some one's coming behind us and we'd better wait and see whoit is."
Without pausing to ask any useless questions, Chub swerved from thetrail and guided his motor-cycle around the heap of boulders referredto by Matt. Matt followed him, and they screened themselves and theirwheels as well as they could and peered curiously back along the trail.