CHAPTER III.
"RAGS."
Susie McReady, who had been visiting with a friend over in town, camehome a little while after Matt had laid the girl down on a couch. Chubentered the house with his sister, and was excitedly telling her whathad happened.
Susie went at once to the girl and began doing what she could for her.
"It's too bad," murmured Susie sympathetically, as she passed a wetcloth back and forth over the girl's face. "Poor little thing! Shehardly seems to have any breath left in her."
"An' she don't seem to be hurt anywhere," said Chub, standing close tothe couch with Matt, "that's the queerest part of it."
"She may be hurt internally," spoke up Matt, feeling a pang of pity ashe looked at the pale little face.
The girl's clothing was so ragged it was a wonder that it heldtogether. Her shoes were broken and scuffed out, and there were holesin her stockings.
The cold water revived her, and when her big eyes flickered open, theypassed in a troubled daze from Susie to Chub, and then to Matt. Whenthey rested on Matt, a faint smile came to her lips.
"Yous is de one dat was runnin' acrost de road wid a rope," said she."Dat was bully, w'at yous done. Put 'er dere, cull," and she liftedherself on one elbow and reached out her hand.
"You're feeling a whole lot better, eh?" asked Matt, taking the dirtylittle paw.
"Well, mebby," was the hesitating answer, "only I can't move me pins.What's de matter wid 'em?"
She looked down at her feet as Matt released her hand. Susie cast afrightened glance at Matt.
"Are you trying to move your feet?" Matt asked, hiding as best he couldthe sudden consternation that swept through him.
"Sure I'm tryin'. Funny, ain't it? Dey feel like dey wasn't mine."
"Well, don't fret about it," said Matt softly. "When the doctor comeshe'll fix you up all right. What's your name?"
"Rags," was the answer.
"You've got another name besides that, haven't you?"
"Sure; but yous don't hear me sayin' it, I guess." Her face hardened alittle as she added: "Yous has done a lot fer me"--here she fixed herlarge eyes steadily on Matt--"an' I'd do a lot fer yous, on'y don't askme name or anyt'ing about meself; see? Dat goes. Come around here an'grab holt o' me mitt. Dere ain't nobody treated me white fer quite aspell. De rest is all right, but yous is de one dat's made a hit widRags."
Susie drew back a little and Chub pushed up a chair. Matt humored thechild and sat down beside her.
"W'at d'yous call yerself?" she asked, snuggling Matt's hand againsther cheek.
"Matt," he answered.
"Gee, but yous is fine! Say, ain't yous de Motor Matt de push has beentalkin' about?"
"They call me that sometimes."
She laughed, and her eyes danced as they looked into his.
"Ain't it great t' have a feller like yous stop a runaway team an'pull yous out o' de smash! Why, yous saved me jest like yous did DirkHawley's goil, only she was ridin' a horse while I was hangin' to abusted wagon."
"Who were those men with you, Rags?" queried Matt.
"Cut it out, Matt. Dat's somet'ing I can't tell yous."
"Have you lived long in Phoenix?
"Dere yous go ag'in! Say, I hope dem pins git so's I kin use 'em beforelong. I ain't got no money an' I can't be spongin' on folks dat mebbydon't want me around."
"You can stay right here, Rags, as long as you want to," put in Susie,"and it won't cost you a cent."
"Not a red!" added Chub heartily.
"Dat's mighty kind," answered Rags, "but I got t' fly my kite jest assoon's I kin git on me uppers."
"Is Juan Morisco a friend of yours, Rags?" asked Matt, still trying toget some information from the girl.
"What's dat?" demanded Rags, starting up and looking hard at Matt."How'd yous know w'at his name was?"
"The sheriff arrested him----"
"Jugged! Are yous givin' it to me straight?"
"Yes."
Rags lay back and closed her eyes in a tired way.
"Well," she muttered, "dey won't git nuttin' out o' me."
The doctor came, just then, and for several minutes he gave hisundivided attention to Rags. When he had got through, and had left somemedicine, he beckoned Matt to follow him out on the porch. The momentthey were clear of the house the doctor's face became very grave.
"Not much hope for her," said he.
"What!" exclaimed Matt, taken aback. "Do you mean she can't get well?"
"Chances don't favor it. There's an injury to her spine and she'sparalyzed from the hips down. What do you know about her, King?"
"Not a thing, doctor, and she won't say a word about herself. But maybethe man the sheriff arrested can be made to tell something."
The doctor, apparently, had been told all about the runaway and thearrest of the Mexican, by Clip.
"There's something here that's mighty mysterious," said he, shaking hishead. "This Juan Morisco must be a hard citizen or McKibben wouldn'thave nabbed him. And what was the girl doing with Morisco, tied to thewagon like she was? Got to make her talk, King. You seem to have moreinfluence over her than any one else. She's too young to have muchstrength of will, and I think she'll tell you everything if you keeptrying to make her."
"That's where you're wrong, doctor," said Matt. "From what I've seen ofher I'll bet she won't say a word. Rags has got a reason for keepingback what she knows, and she'd let you kill her before she'd breathe awhisper."
"Well, I hear McKibben is giving Juan Morisco the third degree. IfMorisco can stand that, he's a better man than I think he is. One wayor another, the truth about that girl is bound to come out."
The doctor got into his buggy and drove off. Matt stood at the gate fora few moments, looking for Clip; but, as he could see nothing of him,he went back into the house.
Rags was asleep. Susie, who sat beside the couch, looked at Matt andlaid a finger on her lips. Matt tiptoed out through the kitchen to theback of the house. Chub was sitting in a chair, tilted back against thewall.
"What's old Sawbones got to say, pard?" he asked.
"Not much hope for Rags, Chub," said Matt gravely.
"Too bloomin' bad!" muttered Chub, "but mebby old pills-an'-physic hasmade a wrong guess."
"Of course, there's a chance that he's off his reckoning. Wish I knewwhy Rags won't tell us anything about herself, or about those twogreasers who had her tied to the wagon."
"She's a nervy little piece! Mebby she'll tell you, though, if you giveher time. You seem to make a hit with all the girls, Matt, little an'big, an' Rags has taken to you like a Piute squaw to a string of glassbeads."
"Where's Welcome?" asked Matt.
A slow grin worked its way over Chub's freckled face.
"He's out in his study, soothin' his turbulent soul with hair-raisin'literature."
"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 everwritten. Come on over an' we'll take a look at him."
Matt was glad of something that would take his mind off Rags for atime, and he followed Chub toward the barn. Approaching softly, Chubplaced an empty box under a square opening that ventilated one of thestalls and motioned for Matt to get up beside him.
Some shelves had been put up along one side of the stall, and they werepiled with a lot of grimy-looking books. One of the books lay open on aboard placed over the manger, and Welcome stood in front of it with anold butcher-knife in his hand. The old man had twisted up the ends ofhis mustache to make it look bristling and fierce, and he was mumblingto himself and flashing the butcher-knife around him savagely.
"Le'me see," the boys heard him mutter, as he bent over the book, "howdoes that there go? Dad-bing! I wisht I had my glasses. The print'spurty 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 beadon the passengers with his trusty pistol. "Stand!" he cried; "stand an'deliver!"'"
Welcome jerked himself away from the book, whirled around on his woodenpin and pointed his knife at the book-shelves.
"Stop where ye be!" he said fiercely. "It's Eagle-eye Perkins, Pirateo' the Plains, that's stoppin' this here stage-coach. Stand an'deliver!"
Just then Chub let off a whoop. Welcome, startled by the unexpectedsound, dropped the knife, jumped for the side of the stall, and triedto climb up the book-shelves.
Crash went the collection of literature, and Welcome fell back on thefloor of the stall, half-covered by a deluge of books.
Laughing to themselves, the boys dropped off the box and started backtoward the house.
"What do you think of that!" chuckled Chub. "The old joke is a nicekind of reformed road-agent, ain't he? Instead of tryin' to fight downhis lawlessness, he's keepin' it alive with that stuff. I'll bet if sisever 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 thecourse 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 hittingnothing 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 thejump. Hustle."
"Who wants me?" demanded Matt.
"The governor. It's a hurry-up call. McKibben said for you not to losea 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 tellingyou. 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 hisown 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 thepistons took the push and the motor began to snap. By the time hereached the bridge the cylinders were purring softly and the _Comet_was going like a limited express.
Motor Matt's Century Run; or, The Governor's Courier Page 3