CHAPTER XIII.
BESIEGED.
The king of the motor boys hated the very touch of a firearm. He hadseen so much wanton use of such weapons when in the Southwest, that hehad become imbued with horror and disgust for anything that carriedpowder and ball.
But here he was forced to fall back on whatever he could find in orderto withstand the attack of a frenzied and desperate man.
Counting out the rage Siwash must feel over the trick that had takenhim away from the dugout, if he once broke into the room, found hismoney gone, and the satchel in Matt's possession, there was no tellingwhat demons would be turned loose in him.
Having discovered the satchel, Matt was determined to turn it over toCameron. It was this resolve that had held Matt to the spot, and nowforced him to brave the wrath of Siwash Charley.
Bang! bang! bang!
Leaden hail rattled on the door, but the door was of stout plank andthe metal could not penetrate it. The barrier Siwash Charley hadconstructed for his own preservation, in time of possible stress, nowproved a good shield for Motor Matt.
Having announced himself, in this violent fashion, Siwash dismountedand tried the latch. The door, of course, refused to yield, and Siwashhurled himself against it. The stout planks trembled, and the earthenwall quivered.
"Steady, there, Siwash Charley!" cried Matt. "I've got Murgatroyd'srifle, and I don't intend to let you come in here."
This announcement seemingly carried an effect. The attack on the doorceased and Siwash began a parley.
"Did that coyote of a Pecos Jones set ye loose?" he demanded.
"No."
"How'n thunder did ye make it, then?"
"Pecos Jones robbed me--cut the ropes that tied me to the cot so hecould get at my pockets. You had left my feet unbound, and I managed tojuggle a bit with a knife that lay on the floor."
"Waal, it won't do ye no good. Ye're in thar, an' I'm out hyer, ye'vegot a rifle an' I've got a brace o' Colts, an' on top o' that ye'vegot the use o' yer hands, but that don't mean that ye're goin' ter gitaway. I ain't wantin' ter harm ye--ye heerd what Murg said when heleft--so ye might as well open the door an' let me in."
"I'll not do that," answered Matt firmly.
"Why won't ye?"
"Because, now that I'm free, I'm going to stay that way."
"Ye ain't free! All the freedom you got is ter run eround thattwo-by-twice hole in the ground an' dodge bullets. Whar's that coyote?I got a bone ter pick with him."
"He's not here."
"I know that, kase I seen that his hoss wa'n't down by the spring wharhe picketed him. Whar'd he go?"
"I don't know."
"What did he play that bloomin' trick on me fer? Murg wasn't atJessup's--he an' the gal had been gone from thar fer two hours."
Here was Matt's chance to laugh, but he was not in a mood to takeadvantage of it.
"Do you remember counting your gold this morning, Siwash?" asked Matt.
A startled exclamation broke from the ruffian.
"Did ye see that?" he returned. "I thought ye was asleep."
"I wasn't the only one who saw it. Pecos Jones was looking through thewindow. Pecos not only saw you counting the money, but he also sawwhere you put it."
A bellow of fury broke from Siwash.
"Why didn't ye tell me he was at the winder?" he fumed.
"Why should I?" returned Matt. "You fellows had led me to believe thatPecos Jones' name was Hackberry, and that he was a friend of mine. Ihad an idea that he was coming here to rescue me, and that's the reasonI kept quiet."
Matt could hear Siwash tramping about and easing his wrath as this shotwent home.
"What did that coyote do?" roared Siwash. "Tell me that."
"He took your money and ran away with it."
"Did--did he take anything else?"
"Well, some of my money that I had in a vest pocket."
"Anything else?"
"No."
"Ye know whar that cache is?"
"Of course. How could I help knowing when Pecos Jones rifled it undermy eyes?"
"I'm suspicionin' you," yelled Siwash, "with yer whistlin' o' reveillesan' stable calls! Ye kain't fool me, not fer a minit."
Matt had been afraid of this discovery, but there had been no way ofpreventing it. He had told Siwash about Pecos in the hope of having theruffian trail away in pursuit of the thief.
"Why don't you take after Pecos, Siwash?" asked Matt.
"Kase it's wuth more ter me ter plant myself right hyer an' look arteryou. Open this door, 'r I open up on ye, rifle or no rifle."
"I'll not open the door," answered Matt firmly, "and if you try tobreak it down I'll send some bullets through it. The planks can turna revolver bullet, but a slug from a rifle will go clean through thewood. Get away from here, Siwash. Your cue is to take after PecosJones."
The words ended amid a crash of broken glass. Siwash Charley wasshooting through the window. Four shots had already been fired. Mattcounted three more. These made seven, and five more shots would emptythe ruffian's revolvers.
If he had no more cartridges, he would be helpless. But this wassomething on which Matt could not count with certainty.
"Keep away from that window, Siwash!" cried Matt, pressing close tothe door. "Show yourself there and I'll fire!"
Bang! bang! bang!
"Seven and three are ten," computed Matt. "He'll soon have thoseweapons emptied. I don't believe he'll show himself at the window, butperhaps I can coax him to shoot again."
Dropping down on hands and knees, Matt crept to a point directly underthe window. Having reached this spot, he placed his cap on the muzzleof the rifle and lifted it.
Bang!
"Eleven," thought Matt.
Then he gave a loud cry and allowed the cap to waver back and forth.
Bang!
"Twelve!" exulted Matt. "Now, if he hasn't any more cartridges, I'll besafe."
Matt had allowed the cap to drop at the last shot. Outside he couldhear a tramp of running feet.
"I told the cub," came the voice of Siwash. "He ought to've knowedbetter than ter----"
Siwash Charley's head was thrust in at the opening, rimmed with itsjagged points of glass. The scoundrel's words died on his lips, for hiseyes were blinking into the muzzle of the rifle.
"Clear out, Siwash!" said Matt calmly. "I don't like guns, and I don'tlike shooting, but I dislike your society more than either one. Go awayfrom here, and go quick."
What Siwash said Matt could not hear, but he vanished from the windowas if by magic.
There was no more firing. In order to test his theory regarding SiwashCharley's ammunition, Matt showed himself boldly at the broken window.
The ruffian was not more than twenty feet away. Quick as a flash heraised one of his weapons and pulled the trigger. There was only ametallic click, which made it manifest that Siwash had not kept suchclose track of the ammunition as Motor Matt had done.
"Go away, I tell you," ordered the king of the motor boys. "I've hadenough trouble with you, and I intend to get to Sykestown in time toprevent Murgatroyd from carrying out his plans. If----"
Matt paused, aghast. Across the prairie he could see a swiftly movingblot--a motor car, he was sure, and undoubtedly Murgatroyd's.
Siwash Charley was likewise looking at the approaching car.
"Oh," he yelled, "I reckon ye ain't got everythin' your way, arter all.Hyer comes Murg, an' ye kin bet Murg ain't out o' ammunition even if Iam!"
Matt's heart went down into his shoes. Wasn't luck ever to turn forhim? Was there to be no end to this reverse which had come his way?
As he continued to gaze at the approaching car, it grew plainer to hiseyes. There was more than one man aboard, he could see that, and thecar didn't look like Murgatroyd's, but of a different color. This carwas brown!
As Matt's hopes arose, Siwash Charley's began to sink. A moment later,Siwash rushed for his horse.
"Cameron!" cried Matt, hardly able to believe his eyes;
"Cameron andMcGlory!"
Turning from the window he ran to the door, flung it open and leapedoutside.
Yells came from the car, and some one stood up in front and waved hishat wildly.
Matt, pointing to the fleeing Siwash, shouted at the top of his voice:
"Capture that man, Cameron! He's Phillips, the deserter! He is armed,but his revolvers are empty! Capture him!"
If Matt's words were not heard or understood, at least his gestureswere. The car turned and darted after Siwash Charley.
The king of the motor boys, leaning against the front wall of thedugout, watched the race.