Motor Matt's Make-and-Break; or, Advancing the Spark of Friendship Read online

  CHAPTER X.

  A BOLT FROM THE BLUE.

  Small, and seemingly trifling, events sometimes pave the way for vitalundertakings. The performance on the coteau, in which the Tin Cup menhad so prominently figured, had left the _Comet_ equipped with aforty-foot riata. On the flight to the Missouri Matt had tried to untiethe rope and drop it from the machine. In this he had failed--a veryfortunate circumstance for the dripping young man on the bank. But forthat trailing rope, Matt would never have been able to effect a rescue.

  "It may be," said the young man, "that you have only pulled me out ofthe river to give me into the hands of the Tin Cup outfit."

  "I have already told you," returned Matt, "that I have nothing to dowith the Tin Cup outfit."

  "Why were you chasing me in that air ship, then?"

  "I wasn't chasing you. You had a guilty conscience, and if a man hadbeen coming this way on an elephant you would have thought he was afteryou."

  The other was silent for a space, surveying Matt furtively and,apparently, trying to guess his business.

  "You knew about that work in the Tin Cup bunk house, last night," saidhe tentatively.

  "I heard of it from a party who are out looking for George Hobbes. Thatis your name, is it?"

  "That's the way I was billed during that performance at the bunk house."

  "What are you, by profession--a cowboy or a gambler?"

  "Cowboy."

  Matt glanced at the young fellow's hands. They looked more like agambler's hands than a cowboy's. And yet, skillful though he must havebeen with the cards, Hobbes had not the appearance of a gambler.

  "Do you live here?" Matt went on.

  "Yes," was the answer. "I told you, a moment ago, where my shack was."

  "Then you're not doing much in the cattle line if you hang out in thisdeserted spot."

  Hobbes gave a grunt and got up.

  "What are you trying to pry into my business affairs for?" he askedsurlily. "Do you think saving my life gives you a right to do that?"

  "Well," fenced Matt, "that depends. You don't talk like any cowboy Iever heard--your English is too good."

  "There are a lot of punchers who use better English than I do."

  "Possibly," answered Matt. "I haven't been in the cattle country verymuch. What was the amount of money you stole from the Tin Cup outfit?"

  A flush of color ran into Hobbes' tanned face.

  "I didn't steal their money," he cried angrily. "I played cards for it."

  "You didn't play a square game. They found the pack you used, thismorning, and there were extra aces, and the backs were printed in sucha way that you could tell what cards your opponents held."

  "What of that?" was the scoffing response. "They didn't find me out.They had the right to beat me at my own game--if they could."

  "I'm not here to preach," said Matt, "but you've got yourself into apretty bad mix. I'm willing to help you out if you'll send back themoney."

  "I'll not send back a soo," was the answer, "and you've got your nervealong to bat such a proposition up to me. Who asked for your help? Ididn't."

  Hobbes turned away in a huff and started for the creek, his wet clothesslapping about him as he walked.

  "Just a minute, Hobbes," called Matt, "and I'll go with you. I wantto rope this flying machine to a couple of trees, so that it won't beblown into the river if a wind should happen to come up."

  Hobbes was very wet, very tired, and very sulky, but he could hardlyrefuse such a trifling request. With the rope that had saved his life,he helped Matt secure the _Comet_.

  "Do you know any one, in these parts, by the name of Newt Prebbles?"Matt inquired, while they were moving toward the shack.

  "You used that name while I was in the skiff," said Hobbes, "Iremember, now. What's your business with Newt Prebbles?"

  "I'll tell him that when I see him. It's important. Do you know theman?"

  "Yes, I know him. He's a pal of mine and lives with me in the shack."

  "Is he there, now?" asked Matt eagerly.

  "No."

  "When will he be back?"

  "That's hard to tell. He won't come back at all if you don't tell mewhat your business is with him."

  "Why so?"

  "I'll warn him away. You've found out a lot about me, but how much haveyou told me about yourself? Not a thing. I haven't a notion who youare, and I'm blamed if I like mysteries."

  They were close to the cluster of cottonwoods and the shack, and Mattfell silent. The house, as the king of the motor boys could see, nowthat he was close to it, was built of sod, and had a roof of grassthatched over cottonwood poles. It was in a fairly good state of repairand had evidently been occupied for some time.

  The door stood open, and Hobbes stepped to one side to let Matt enterfirst. It looked like a mere act of courtesy, and may have been no morethan that; but, in view of what immediately happened, Matt would havebeen entitled to suspicions.

  Believing the shack to be empty, Matt crossed the threshold. He wasinstantly seized by some one who threw himself from behind the opendoor.

  With a startled cry, the young motorist twisted around in the strongarms that held him and caught a look at the man's face.

  It was Murgatroyd!

  Another moment and all the fight in Matt's nature flew to the surface.Putting forth all his strength, he kicked and struggled until he hadfreed himself of the broker's grip.

  He was no sooner clear of Murgatroyd, however, when Hobbes set uponhim. Hobbes had not yet recovered his strength, and Matt would havemade short work of him had not the broker come savagely to his aid.Between them Matt was forced to the clay floor of the house and lashedwith a rope in such a manner that he was powerless to move.

  Murgatroyd, panting from his exertions, lifted himself erect and gavethe prisoner a vengeful kick.

  "Wasn't expecting to find me here, eh?" he asked. "You've led me apretty chase, Motor Matt, but here we are at the end of the trail, andI've got the upper hand."

  Somehow Matt had fallen under the impression that the police ofBismarck would take care of Murgatroyd; hence, he had left the brokerout of his calculations, and this meeting with him in that sod shackwas like lightning out of a clear sky.

  "You know this fellow, then?" said Hobbes.

  "I know him too well, and that's the trouble. He's meddled with myaffairs until they're in a pretty tangle, and I'll have all I can do tostraighten them out again. I wasn't expecting a chance like this," anda jubilant note entered the broker's voice. "How did he happen to comehere, Newt?"

  "That's too many for me, Murg. He was in a flying machine. I saw himcoming, and thought he was on my track for a little game that waspulled off at the Tin Cup Ranch, last night. In my hurry to get acrossthe river I lost an oar, and in my hurry to get the oar I overturnedthe boat. I can't swim much, and with all my clothes on I'd have goneto the bottom if he hadn't snatched me ashore."

  Motor Matt was not much surprised to hear Murgatroyd call the supposedHobbes "Newt." The young motorist's mind had been working around tothat view of the young fellow's identity. He was Newt Prebbles, and wason friendly terms with the master scoundrel, Murgatroyd.

  The broker seated himself in a chair, and did not seem particularlywell pleased with the news Prebbles had just given him. Perhaps, forhis peace of mind, he was wishing that Matt had not rescued Newt,and it may be he resented the "hold" this rescue gave Matt on Newt'sgratitude--providing Newt harbored such a sentiment, which seemeddoubtful.

  Newt began changing his clothes. Before he began, he took a bottlefrom the table and poured himself a drink of its fiery contents.

  "When did you get here, Murg?" he demanded, as he got into his clothes.

  "It must have been while you were having that trouble on the river. Ididn't see anything of the flying machine, and I didn't hear anythingof the fracas. Feeling sure you'd be back soon, I hitched my horseamong the cottonwoods and came in here to wait. I heard you and MotorMatt talking as you walked this way, and I had
to rub my eyes in orderto make sure it was really Motor Matt who was coming. Jove, but this isa stroke of luck!"

  "You'll have to tell me about that, for it's mighty dark to me. You gotmy letter all right?"

  "Naturally, or I shouldn't be here. The letter arrived in Bismarckyesterday forenoon, and I pulled out of the town at once. Stayedlast night with a farmer, more to make certain I wasn't followedthan anything else." Murgatroyd scowled. "This being a fugitive," hefinished, "gets on a man's nerves."

  Newt laughed grimly.

  "Did you bring the money?" he demanded.

  "Don't talk about that here," and the broker flashed a significantglance at Matt.

  "All right," agreed Newt. "Suppose we let this Motor Matt, as you callhim, go free? We don't want him around, anyhow."

  "Go free?" cried Murgatroyd. "I'll catch myself doing that! I owe himsomething," and here a demoniacal look crept into the broker's eyes,"and I guess, as my old friend Siwash used to say, I'll take advantageof this opportunity and 'saw off' with him."

  This threat, however, did not make Matt feel at all uncomfortable. Hehad in his hands the material necessary to play off one of these menagainst the other. Out of this might come a good deal of benefit tohimself, and much good for Newt Prebbles. In case he did not succeed inthis plan, there was McGlory and Ping yet to be heard from. If they hadsafely escaped the Tin Cup men, it would not be long before they gainedthe mouth of Burnt Creek and played their part in events to come.

  Just then Matt felt like congratulating himself on having been made aprisoner. Such a position gave him the advantage of being impartial inthe hostility he was about to incite between his captors.