You are here
قراءة كتاب Motor Matt's Race or, The Last Flight of the Comet
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"

Motor Matt's Race or, The Last Flight of the Comet
"stumped." Nevertheless, he was not slow in guessing that Pima Pete's note had something to do with Clip's mysterious manner.
"What's wrong, Clip?" queried Matt, lowering his voice and setting a chair closer to his chum.
"Matter enough. You saw what happened. When the cowboy got back his horse, I mean."
"Pima Pete gave you a note."
"That's it. Not much gets away from you, Matt. I was afraid Chub and Perkins might have seen it, too."
"They didn't. I could swear to that."
"You remember what Dangerfield said when he was captured? That there was something he wanted you to do?"
Matt knitted his brows. He had not forgotten that.
"I remember it, Clip," said he; "and I remember, too, that I was to hear about the work through Pima Pete."
"Well, Pima Pete came to me. We're of the same blood, as you know." As usual, whenever he mentioned his mixed blood, a savage defiance blazed in Clip's face. "I reckon that's why Pete came to me. It would be easy for any one who knew him to give him away."
"I wouldn't do that—on your account, Clip."
"Sure you wouldn't. I know that. But Pima Pete don't. He saw us going into the hills in the automobile. Then he wrote that note and waited for us to come back. He didn't dare enter the town. And he was taking chances, as it was. If that cowboy had happened to know him, Pete's game would have been up."
"Did he tell you in the note about seeing us, and waiting for us to come back, Clip?" asked Matt.
Clip nodded.
"Where's the note?"
"I burned it. Got to be on the safe side, Matt. Pima Pete's my uncle. I can't take any chances. Are you willing to try what Dangerfield wants done?"
"If it's honest work, and I can help anybody by doing it, yes. But Dangerfield was a lawbreaker, and I'd have to know all about the business before I took any hand in it."
"There's ten thousand dollars in gold buried in the hills. It's cached near where Pete met us. Pete wants us to meet him out there to-night and get the gold. It's Dangerfield's. Pete says Dangerfield earned it honestly. Dangerfield's father is an old man, and lives in Emmetsburg, Iowa. We're to send six thousand dollars to Emmetsburg, and Pete, and you, and I are to divide the rest. That's the work."
Clip's keen eyes were fixed on Matt's troubled face. Matt was thinking hard and did not answer.
"You don't like the work!" muttered Clip.
"I don't, and that's a fact, Clip," returned Matt. "That may be honest money, but how do we know? Why didn't Dangerfield tell the sheriff and let him dig it up?"
"The sheriff would turn it over to the prosecuting attorney. The government would confiscate it. You see, the federal lawyer would think it money Dangerfield got for smuggling Chinamen over the border."
"Well," said Matt decisively, "if we fooled with that money we'd be apt to get our fingers burned. Besides, it isn't a good thing to tangle up with Pima Pete. He's better off, and so are we, if we keep apart."
A dark frown settled on Clip's swarthy face. For several minutes he bent his head thoughtfully.
"Pete has to get his part of the money," said Clip finally. "He can't get away to Mexico until he has it."
"If he knows where it is," suggested Matt, "he could take it all."
"Yes—if he was an out-and-out thief." Clip threw back his head and squared his shoulders. "He didn't reckon there was any harm helping Dangerfield run a few Chinks across the border. A whole lot of people think the same way."
"That may be, Clip," answered Matt kindly, "but there's a law against it, and Dangerfield and his men broke the law. That's put Dangerfield in a hole, and it would put Pima Pete in a hole, too, if the officers knew he was skulking around near Phœnix. Take my advice, Clip," Matt added earnestly, dropping a hand on his chum's knee. "Keep away from Pete, just now. Let him dig up the gold and send some of it to Emmetsburg. There's no need of ringing you and me in on the deal."
"You don't understand, Matt. Pete don't dare show himself anywhere. If you and I don't mix up with that gold, nothing will be done with it."
Matt puzzled his brain over the problem for several minutes.
"I'll tell you, Clip," said he finally, "you meet your uncle to-night, but do it carefully—understand? Be sure no one sees you. Let him tell you right where the gold is, and let him take a thousand of it, if he has to have it, and clear out. In two or three days, when your uncle has had time to get into Mexico, I'll go to Governor Gaynor, lay the whole matter before him, and ask his advice. If he says for us to do what Dangerfield wants, we'll do it. That's the best course. But don't you be with Pima Pete a minute longer than you have to."
Once more Clip bowed his head. While he was thinking the matter over a rap fell on the door.
Starting up quickly, Clip laid a finger on his lips, moved softly across the room and into a closet, pulling the door partly shut after him.
All this secrecy of Clip's Matt did not think at all necessary; but Clip was a queer fellow, although a fine one at heart, and doubly queer whenever anything connected with his ancestry came up.
There was no time to argue with him, however, and Matt stepped to the door and threw it open.
McKibben, the sheriff, stepped into the room.
CHAPTER IV.
M'KIBBEN'S TIP.
"Howdy, Matt!" cried McKibben. "Just dropped in to see you on a little matter of business. Mrs. Spooner wanted to come up and announce me, but I told her that wasn't necessary. Know where Tom Clipperton is?"
This point blank question struck Matt "all of a heap." If there was one thing he hated more than another it was a lie. Only a coward will side-step the truth. However, Matt couldn't very well tell McKibben that Clip was in the closet, and he didn't see how he could refuse to answer McKibben's question without arousing his suspicions. Fortunately, the official did not wait very long for Matt to reply.
"I've just come from the place where Clipperton boards," said he, "and he wasn't there. I can have a little talk with you, though, and maybe it will do just as well."
Matt and McKibben were very good friends, and the sheriff dropped into the chair recently vacated by Clip.
"What's happened, Mr. McKibben?" queried Matt. "Has some one turned up to claim that red roadster?"
"No, and I don't believe any one ever will. The fellows who own that car know when to let well enough alone. What I want to see you about, Matt, is an altogether different matter, although the roadster is indirectly concerned. You were out this afternoon with Clipperton, McReady, and Perkins, and you got away from a cattle stampede by the skin of your eye-winkers, at the same time saving Josh Fresnay, of the Fiddleback outfit."
"It wasn't much of a getaway," laughed Matt. "When you open that red roadster up she can go about ten feet to a steer's one."
"Of course," returned McKibben, "with a cool head and a steady hand, like yours, there wasn't much danger. Fresnay was telling me about it. He also told me how his horse was stopped by a half-breed, and how he had a notion that the half-breed was Pima Pete, one of Dangerfield's old gang. Fresnay has only seen Pima Pete once or twice, and one half-breed looks a lot like another, anyhow, so Fresnay didn't think very much about it at the time he got his horse back. While he was riding into Phœnix though, he got to turning the matter over in his mind, along with something else he saw, and he got a bit suspicious. As soon as he'd finished his business at the bank he came to see me. I heard what he had to say and went to see Clipperton, but he wasn't at home. Knowing you were a chum of Clipperton's, I headed for here."
Matt was startled, although he tried not to show it. Fresnay was a source of peril for Clip—that point went home