CHAPTER V.
A HOT STARTER.
Motor Matt disliked any further entanglements with Tsan Ti and thefateful ruby fully as much as did his cowboy pard, and he was greatlyperturbed over the unexpected developments which had again drawnhim and McGlory into the plots and counterplots hovering around thevaluable gem. But it was impossible for the king of the motor boys toturn his back upon an appeal from any one in distress when it was inhis power to be of help. Nevertheless, Matt might have cut loose fromthe mandarin, for he did not like his Oriental methods, but his temperwas stirred by that half-veiled threat in the note from Grattan.
Matt and Grattan had been at swords' points ever since the motor boyshad been in the Catskills. It was largely a battle of wits, with nowand then a little violence thrown in for good measure, and up to thatmoment neither Matt nor Grattan had scored decisively.
Through Matt's intrepid work, Tsan Ti had recovered the stolen ruby,but, as in the case where he had lost the counterfeit gem, Matt'ssuccess had been merely a fortunate blunder. On the other side of theaccount, Grattan could be charged with a theft of the two motor cyclesand with sundry other sharp practices which had gone too much "againstthe grain" for Matt to overlook. The daring theft of the automobilefrom the garage pointed the way not only for Matt to help Martinrecover the machine, but perhaps, also, to recover the motor cycles, toworst Grattan, and to be of some assistance to Tsan Ti.
On the way to the garage with Martin, Matt explained these matters toMcGlory.
With the whistle of the New York boat still sounding in his ears, thecowboy listened to his chum, at first, with intense disapproval; but,at the back of McGlory's nature, there was as intense a dislike forbeing worsted by such a crook as Grattan as there was at the back ofMatt's.
Cleverly the king of the motor boys harped on this chord, and arousedin his chum a wild desire to do something that would curb, finally andeffectually, the audacious lawlessness of Philo Grattan. To such anextent did Matt influence McGlory that the latter began to wonder howhe could ever have thought of leaving the Catskills while Grattan wasat large.
"Sufferin' justice!" exclaimed the cowboy. "Grattan is trying to bluffus out of helping the mandarin. That's as plain as the pay streak in abonanza mine. He must have been with Bunce when the bubble was lifted,and if we chase the chug cart we can hand the boss tinhorn a black eyeby getting back the machine and landing the thieves in the skookumhouse. Say, that would be nuts for me! The mandarin and his idol's eyecan go hang--it's Grattan we're after this trip."
Matt left his chum with that impression, well knowing that if Grattancould be captured, the affairs of the mandarin would adjust themselvessatisfactorily.
The night man at the garage, his head bandaged, was lingering in thebig room, watching one of the day men give a final wipe to the lampsof a six-cylinder flyer that was to take the trail after Grattan. Thenight man's face flushed joyfully when he saw Matt and McGlory.
"Good!" he exclaimed. "I guess there'll be something doing in theseparts, now that Motor Matt is going to help in the chase."
"You're the man who was on duty when the automobile was stolen?"inquired Matt.
"Don't I look the part?"
"Martin says you identified one of the men as the old sailor who wearsa green patch over one of his eyes."
"Seen him as plain as I do you, this minute."
"What did the other thief look like?"
"Didn't have a chance to tell, the attack was that sudden an'unexpected."
"You are sure there were no more than two of the thieves?"
"I could take my solemn Alfred on that."
"All aboard!" called Martin, from the car. "I'm going to let you do thedriving, Matt. You can forget more about automobiles than I ever knew."
Matt stepped to the side of the car and drew on a pair of gauntletsthat lay in the driver's seat; then he climbed to his place, McGlorygot in behind, and the car was backed around and glided out through thewide door of the garage.
With Martin indicating the way, the machine slipped rapidly out ofCatskill and darted off on the Gardenville road.
"What sort of clue is taking us to Gardenville?" asked Martin, as theyweaved in and out among the tree-covered hills, catching occasionalglimpses of the sparkling waters of the Hudson.
Matt informed Martin briefly of Tsan Ti's predicament and of Grattan'spersistent attempts to get hold of the ruby.
"You think Grattan has gone to Gardenville to intercept Tsan Ti?" askedMartin.
"It would be like Grattan," Matt answered, "to hire Sam Wing to stealthe ruby from the mandarin. I don't know that Grattan has done that,but it would be like him. If he did, then he would travel towardGardenville to pick up Sam Wing."
"This looks too much like guesswork," muttered Martin, "and not verybright guesswork, either."
"I think the same way, Martin; but it's the only clue we have. Grattanand Bunce certainly had an object in view when they stole the motorcar. The theft, happening at the time it did, rather inclines me tothink that Grattan is beginning a swift campaign to recover the Eye ofBuddha."
"Since half-past two he has had oceans of time to reach Gardenville andpick up Sam Wing and the ruby--if that was his game."
"Exactly," returned Matt. "I was telling you the same thing back at thehotel. What sort of a car was it that was stolen?"
"It was a blue car, six cylinder, and had a tonneau and top. Itbelonged to a man from New York. He's been telegraphing and telephoningall through the mountains. If the thieves didn't get away last night,they'll have a hard time doing it to-day."
Matt was watching the road. It was a popular highway for motor-carowners, and the surface bore evidence of the passage of many pneumatictires. Half a dozen cars passed them, going the other way, andinquiries were made as to the blue car. The stolen automobile had notbeen seen or heard of. At least two of the passing drivers had comefrom Gardenville, and their failure to have seen anything of the stolenmachine promised ill for the success of the pursuers when they shouldreach their destination.
"I guess I'm up against it, all right," growled Martin. "This Grattanis a clever scoundrel, and he'll know what to do to keep from gettingcaptured."
"What's that place ahead there?" asked Matt.
What he saw was a spot where the road curved a little to one side ina valley between two hills. There were two or three hitching postsplanted beside the road, and from one of the posts swung a tin bucket.
"That's a spring," said Martin, "and it furnishes ice-cold water inthe very hottest part of the summer. People stop there to water theirhorses--and to get a drink themselves if they're thirsty."
"Let's stop, pard," called McGlory, from the tonneau. "I'm dryer than asand pile and my throat's full of dust."
"We're only three miles from Gardenville," spoke up Martin, his wordssignificant of the fact that there would be plenty of drinking water tobe had in the town without delaying the journey at the spring.
"We'll only be a minute," said Matt, swerving to the side of the roadand bringing the car to a halt.
All three jumped out, and Martin led the way to a small pool, shaded byoverhanging trees. From beyond the pool came a tinkle of falling water.
"Horses are watered from this basin," remarked Martin. "The waterfalls from the rocks, farther on, and we'll find a cup there."
A well-worn path followed the rill that supplied the pool, and thethree continued onward along the path in single file. Half a dozenyards brought them to the rocky side hill where the water welled from acrack in the granite and fell in a miniature cataract to a bowl-shapeddepression at the foot of the wall.
A man was standing beside the spring when Martin, Matt, and McGloryemerged from the tangle of brush and vines. The man was just liftinghimself erect after filling a tin cup that was chained to the rocks.Startled into inaction, the man stood staring at the three newcomers,the filled cup in his hand.
The surprise, it may be observed, was mutual.
The man by the spring wa
s a Chinaman--a lean, hatchet-faced individualwhose blouse and baggy trousers gave evidence of rough work in theundergrowth.
"Sam Wing!" yelled McGlory.
Yes, it was the treacherous Celestial, there was not the slightestdoubt about that.
Simultaneously with his shout, McGlory leaped forward, closely followedby Matt. Sam Wing awoke to his peril not a second too soon. Casting thecup of water full in the cowboy's face, the Chinaman gave vent to adefiant yell, whirled, and vanished among the trees.
McGlory sputtered wrathfully as he shook the water out of his eyes.Matt bounded on in frantic pursuit of the fugitive.
"Come back!" cried Martin, thinking of nothing but the stolen car."What's the use of chasing the chink?"
"You freeze to the automobile, Martin," the cowboy paused to answer."Matt and I will put the kibosh on this yellow grafter and then we'llrejoin you. We'll not be gone long."
The words faded in a rattle and crash of violently disturbed bushes,and McGlory had vanished along his chum's trail.