CHAPTER XI.
JOE BASCOMB.
As Motor Matt walked toward the man with the leveled revolver, thewood-hauler cried out a startled "_Madre mia!_" and gave a jump for theother man's arm.
"What's the matter with you, Jose?" demanded the American, keeping hiseyes on Matt as he talked.
Jose launched into a torrent of Spanish. Matt could not understand aword of what he was saying, any more than he could understand the talkwhich Clip had had with his uncle, the half-breed, but the change thatcame over the face of the American was remarkable.
In the American's eyes there was a look like that in the orbs of acornered panther. He had fine features--features that told of an ironwill and a fearless spirit; nevertheless, they had a gloomy cast. WhileJose spoke, something akin to kindness crept through the hard, somberlines, the lips twitched and the eyes softened. The man lowered hisrevolver, tucked it away in the swinging holster, and turned to Jose.
Then, in the same language Jose had used, he spoke rapidly and atconsiderable length. Matt stood and waited, trying to guess what thewood-hauler had said to cause such a change in the man's bearing.
"Who are you, my lad?" inquired the man civilly enough.
"That's a fair question, all right," returned Matt; "but you might haveasked it before you went through all those motions with the gun. Andthen, too, I don't know why I should talk about myself until I learn alittle about you."
"That's straight, anyhow," said the man. "I like a fellow that comesout flat footed and says what he thinks. My name's Joe Bascomb, and Ibelong with Burke's crowd."
"You wasn't with Burke's crowd when I saw them here yesterdayafternoon."
"No more I wasn't. Yesterday afternoon, you see, I was on detachedduty. But I was in at the skirmish at the Wells!"
Bascomb frowned, as though the memory was not pleasant.
"There was a fight?" Matt asked eagerly. "Were Dangerfield and his gangcaptured?"
"There wasn't much of a fight. You see, the smugglers weren't expectingtrouble, and Burke took them by surprise. A few shots were fired,mainly by Burke and his men, but they went wild. The smugglers weremaking for their horses. Six of their number were captured, but a fewmore got away. Among those who escaped was Dangerfield. I'm trying toget to Phoenix on business, and I wonder if five hundred dollars wouldtempt you to let me have that wheel?"
Bascomb pulled a roll of bills from his pocket as he spoke, and held itup for Matt to look at.
"Can you ride a wheel?" asked Matt.
"Never rode one in my life!"
"Then you couldn't use the motor-cycle. You'd go off the trail on thedivide as sure as fate."
"Bring the machine down here and let me look at it."
Matt rolled the _Comet_ down. After Bascomb had studied it a while heshook his head disappointedly.
"I reckon you're right," he muttered. "What did you say your name was?"
"Matt King."
"Then you're the chap who covered the trail between Phoenix andPotter's Gap yesterday afternoon?"
"Yes."
"Well, Matt, I've got to get to Phoenix as soon as I can, and if you'renot in very much of a hurry, I'll climb into my saddle and we'll gotogether. If----" Bascomb hesitated. "If any of Dangerfield's scatteredgang happened to waylay me, there's something I'd like to have you dofor me in Phoenix. That's why I'd like to have you along."
"If you're waylaid, Mr. Bascomb," said Matt, "they'd be liable to getme, too. Dangerfield and his men aren't feeling any too friendly towardme after what I did yesterday afternoon."
"No, they wouldn't get you," insisted Bascomb. "You could run away from'em like a streak on that motor-cycle. If I ask you to do anything forme," he added significantly, "I'll pay you well for it."
"All right," said Matt, "we'll travel together."
Bascomb turned to Jose, and again spoke to him in Spanish. The Mexicanimmediately pulled off his ragged slouch-hat and his tattered coat.Removing his own hat and coat, Bascomb put on the Mexican's; then,after transferring his personal belongings from one garment to theother, he turned to Matt.
"Not much of a disguise, is it?" he remarked. "But maybe it's enough tokeep the gang from spotting me."
"What's that Mexican doing here?" demanded Matt. "He was with JuanMorisco in Phoenix yesterday, when Morisco was arrested. This fellowcut out a horse from the runaway team and got away."
"Sure he did; and he rode all day and most of the night to find me. Wecame across each other by chance, not more than two miles from here."
"If he's a friend of yours," said Matt suspiciously, "and a friend ofMorisco's, why----"
"You don't know Mexicans, King. Jose doesn't know any more than the lawallows, but I rendered him a service once, and he's never forgotten it."
Jose, apparently paying no attention to the talk, was putting onBascomb's expensive Stetson, and a coat which was infinitely betterthan the one he had exchanged for it.
"Here's where our trails divide, Jose," said Bascomb, in English,taking the roll of bills from his pocket and stripping a bank-notefrom it and handing it to the Mexican. "You've made some mighty badmistakes, but I give you credit for doing your best. _Adios._"
"_Adios!_" answered Jose.
Both men mounted their horses; and when Bascomb and Matt made off,Jose, on his jaded beast, sat watching them until they got around thespur on their way to the Gap.
Bascomb led the way, spurring his animal into a slow gallop. Mattfollowed, accommodating the speed of the _Comet_ to the gait ofthe horse. The long flat was crossed and the mountain climbed anddescended--all without mishap, and without a word of talk between thetwo travelers.
Matt's mind was busy. To pull the wool over his eyes was not an easymatter, and the story told by Bascomb was figuratively speaking, toofull of holes to hold water.
Jose had been with Juan Morisco. Juan was one of the Dangerfield gang.Jose would not have run from the sheriff unless he had had a guiltyconscience. Yet, when he had run away, he had taken the trouble to ridea hundred miles and hunt for Bascomb. Bascomb had explained that Josewas indebted to him, and had hunted him up for that reason. But that,as Matt looked at it, was no reason at all.
Then what did that exchange of coats and hats mean? Why was itnecessary for an officer of the law to disguise himself? Here, again,Bascomb's explanation did not explain.
Although these reflections shattered Matt's confidence in hiscompanion, the boy did not allow it, for the present, to make anydifference in his treatment of the man.
Bascomb grew talkative when they reached Castle Creek Canyon and startedover the clear stretch of road toward Hot Springs.
"What became of the little girl that figured in that runaway?" heasked. There was an eagerness in his voice which Matt did not fail tonotice. "Jose said you stopped the horses, picked up the little girl,and was going to carry her into the house when Juan Morisco interfered.Jose didn't see any more, as the sheriff came up just then."
"I took her into the house," answered Matt, "and we sent for a doctor."
The man started in his saddle and bent his piercing eyes on the boy.
"Was she as badly hurt as that?" he demanded.
"The doctor said he didn't think she could live."
"What!" Bascomb's eyes were glaring like an animal's as they metMatt's. "No, no," he added, dropping back in the saddle and brushing ahand across his forehead, "it can't be. I won't believe it. You stoppedthe horses, and I don't see how she could have been so badly hurt asall that."
"She was tied to the 'reach' of the wagon," explained Matt, "and thefront wheels broke away from those behind just before we got the horsesstopped. The girl was dragged for a ways. If she hadn't been tied, shewouldn't have been hurt so bad."
"She's been living at Jose's for a month," muttered Bascomb to himself,but in a voice loud enough for Matt to hear, "and she could stand him,but Jose said she couldn't bear Juan Morisco. It was bad businesssending Juan after her. Jose had to tie her to the wagon to keep herfrom running of
f when Morisco came. But that doctor was wrong!" andBascomb raised his voice and once more turned to Matt.
This soliloquy of Bascomb's gave Matt fresh food for thought. Bascombspurred his tired horse cruelly, and they got past Hot Springs at afairly good gait.
"What did the girl say?" asked Bascomb, when they were well to thesouth of Hot Springs, and picking their way among the litter of stones."Did she say anything about herself, or about her folks?"
"She wouldn't say anything about herself or her people," replied Matt.
"True-blue!" muttered Bascomb huskily. "She'll pull through--she alwayshad grit; but I wish I was sure!"
A mile north of the notch Bascomb's horse fell under him. He had beenforcing the animal ahead impatiently, and as he fell floundering to theground over the horse's head, he swore a fierce oath.
One of the revolvers had dropped out of Bascomb's belt. Unseen by itsowner, Matt picked it up.
Bascomb, in spite of his temper over the giving out of the horse,knelt beside the animal and unrove the cinches. Pulling the saddleloose, he cast it aside; then he removed the bridle and threw it afterthe saddle.
"You served me well, you poor brute," said he, "but not well enough."
He whirled away. Matt was looking at him along the barrel of therevolver. He started back with another oath.
"What do you mean by that?" he cried. "Haven't I got enough to tortureme without----" He bit the words short, and glared.
"Take that other gun from your belt," commanded Matt, "and throw itaway. You can't fool me, Bascomb! You're one of the Dangerfield gang.I don't think you intended going to Phoenix, but you're going now,whether you want to or not!"
Matt's voice was steady, and his gray eyes snapped in a way that meantbusiness.
Motor Matt's Century Run; or, The Governor's Courier Page 11