"Didn't know he had a study," said Matt.

Chub jerked a thumb over his shoulder at a neighboring barn.

"It's over there," said he. "Perk's got a box stall all to himself, an' his library contains everything about Dick Turpin that was ever written. Come on over an' we'll take a look at him."

Matt was glad of something that would take his mind off Rags for a time, and he followed Chub toward the barn. Approaching softly, Chub placed an empty box under a square opening that ventilated one of the stalls and motioned for Matt to get up beside him.

Some shelves had been put up along one side of the stall, and they were piled with a lot of grimy-looking books. One of the books lay open on a board placed over the manger, and Welcome stood in front of it with an old butcher-knife in his hand. The old man had twisted up the ends of his mustache to make it look bristling and fierce, and he was mumbling to himself and flashing the butcher-knife around him savagely.

"Le'me see," the boys heard him mutter, as he bent over the book, "how does that there go? Dad-bing! I wisht I had my glasses. The print's purty fine an' the light ain't none too good."

Then he read, tracing the words with the point of the knife.

"'Gallopin' Dick pulled up his hoss clost by the coach an' drew a bead on the passengers with his trusty pistol. "Stand!" he cried; "stand an' deliver!"'"

Welcome jerked himself away from the book, whirled around on his wooden pin and pointed his knife at the book-shelves.

"Stop where ye be!" he said fiercely. "It's Eagle-eye Perkins, Pirate o' the Plains, that's stoppin' this here stage-coach. Stand an' deliver!"

Just then Chub let off a whoop. Welcome, startled by the unexpected sound, dropped the knife, jumped for the side of the stall, and tried to climb up the book-shelves.

Crash went the collection of literature, and Welcome fell back on the floor of the stall, half-covered by a deluge of books.

Laughing to themselves, the boys dropped off the box and started back toward the house.

"What do you think of that!" chuckled Chub. "The old joke is a nice kind of reformed road-agent, ain't he? Instead of tryin' to fight down his lawlessness, he's keepin' it alive with that stuff. I'll bet if sis ever finds out about his doin's there'll be a ruction, and—— Hello! here comes Clip, an' he's tearin' along as though he was goin' over the course for a record."

The boys had reached a place where they could see the road. Clipperton, on foot, was racing up from the canal bridge. Clip was the best "miler" anywhere in that part of the country, and he was certainly hitting nothing but the high places as he rushed for the McReady front gate.

"Let's hike for the road and find out what he's got on his mind," suggested Matt.

He and Chub reached the gate just as Clipperton came up with it.

"Get the Comet, Matt," jerked out Clipperton. "You're wanted on the jump. Hustle."

"Who wants me?" demanded Matt.

"The governor. It's a hurry-up call. McKibben said for you not to lose a minute."

"What does the governor want me for?"

As Matt put the question he was running for his motor-cycle.

"That's too many for me," answered Clip. "All I know's what I'm telling you. Something in the wind. No getaway for Denver for us to-day."

"Where'll I find Governor Gaynor?" asked Matt.

He was pushing his machine through the gate, and Clip was getting his own wheel and making ready to follow.

"In his office," answered Clip. "He's waiting for you there."

Matt got into the saddle and began pedaling. The next moment the pistons took the push and the motor began to snap. By the time he reached the bridge the cylinders were purring softly and the Comet was going like a limited express.

CHAPTER IV.

A DANGEROUS MISSION.

"I don't think the boy can make it, McKibben; I don't know whether it's right to ask him to try to make it."

The governor was pacing back and forth in his private office, talking with the sheriff who sat near-by. Something of importance was in the wind, as could plainly be told from the faces of the two men and from the nervous actions of the governor.

"There's nothing that lad can't do when he sets his mind to it," declared McKibben. "If Joe Dangerfield and his gang are kept from reaching Mexico, it's Motor Matt that does it. Take my word for that, governor."

"Do you think you can believe what Juan Morisco told you?" queried the governor.

"I'll take my oath it was the truth."

"If word reaches the Dangerfield gang about what we're doing, King will never be allowed to reach his destination."

"How can word reach the gang? When the boy starts he'll go like a streak of greased lightning. He'll beat the news, even if there was a leak somewhere and the information that he was acting as your courier got started toward the hills."

"I sha'n't let him start until I have told him all about the danger——"

McKibben laughed.

"That youngster don't know what fear is, governor. He won't gigg back on the job because of any trouble that may be staring him in the face. Anyhow, he's our only hope. There's not a machine in town that can cover the ground like it's got to be covered, except the Comet; and there's no one else to use the Comet except Motor Matt."

"He's slow getting here, seems to me," muttered the governor, starting for a window to look out.

Before he reached the window a rap fell on the door. In answer to his call, the governor's secretary entered.

"Here's young King, sir," announced the secretary.

"Have him come right in," said the governor, a look of relief crossing his face.

The secretary withdrew, and the next moment Matt entered and stood before the two men, cap in hand.

"You sent for me, sir?" he asked.

This was not the first time Governor Gaynor had seen Motor Matt, but never before had he marked the sturdy bearing and resourceful air of the lad as he did then. Somehow, his feeling of relief increased, and he sat down in the big chair before his desk.

"Yes, King," said he; "I sent for you. How would you like to do a little brisk, and perhaps exciting, work for Uncle Sam and the Territory of Arizona?"

"I'll be glad to do anything I can," answered Matt, not a little curious because of the governor's words and manner.

"There may be danger in it, King," went on the governor, eying the lad's face keenly, "a great deal of danger."

"That ought to keep me gingered up," smiled Matt easily.

McKibben chuckled and swerved his eyes to the governor.

"There'll also be one hundred dollars in it for you."

"That's all right, too, sir," said Matt. "I could use the hundred."

"Briefly, then," proceeded the governor briskly, "the work is this: A man named Joe Dangerfield, with several other ruffians, is camped at Tinaja Wells, near Painted Rocks. They're a lawless set, those fellows, and have been engaged in smuggling Chinamen into the United States by way of Mexico and the Arizona border. The Federal Government has offered a reward of one thousand dollars each for the capture of Dangerfield or any of his gang.

"Jasper Burke, the sheriff from Prescott, is camped with a posse at Potter's Gap, just over the divide, at the head of Castle Creek Cañon. Dangerfield and his gang are known to be making for the Mexican border, to get away from the authorities and so effect their escape. The trail south from Tinaja Wells passes through Potter's Gap, and Burke and his posse are waiting there to catch the Dangerfield outfit as it comes along.

"It appears now, however, that Dangerfield has got wind of the sheriff's move, and that he is going to leave Tinaja Wells some time to-night and start south