CHAPTER XII.
BOLIVAR TURNS UP.
"You're the last person in the world, King," said Bascomb, with moreinjury than hostility in his voice, "who ought to butt in on me likethis. If you knew _all_----"
He stopped short and pursed up his lips. His gloomy face and hauntedeyes were touched with sadness.
"I know enough to figure out that you're trying to fool me," saidMatt. "The yarn you told me back there in the gap won't wash. It's myopinion, Bascomb, that you're no more of a deputy sheriff than I am.Anyhow, I'm going to take you to McKibben, in Phoenix, and give him achance to pass judgment on you. That other gun, if you please."
Bascomb thought the matter over for a moment, then drew the revolver.
"Do you want it?" he asked quietly.
"Throw it over there in the brush," ordered Matt. Bascomb obedientlyflung the weapon into the thicket. "You're right," said he, "I'm one ofthe gang. I ought to have known better than to try to fool you--you'retoo keen; but I wanted to go to Phoenix, and I wanted you to be withme on the way, so if any of Burke's men laid me by the heels I couldget you to transact a little honest business for me. I'm going to town,King, and I want to get there in a rush. I'm willing to go as yourprisoner and I'll make you no trouble, providing you take me to seethat little girl before you take me to McKibben. Is it a bargain?"
There was something about the man that Matt liked, in spite of thedeceit he had practised at the start-off of their acquaintance.
"When a fellow has lied to you once, Bascomb," returned Matt, "younever feel as though you could trust him. But I'll go you this time.I'm going to keep this gun, though, and watch you every minute."
"That's not necessary, but I'm willing to have it that way if it willmake you feel any easier in your mind."
"What was it you were going to have me do?" went on Matt. "I don't knowas I want to mix up in any of your lawless operations."
"I wouldn't ask you to do that," said Bascomb sharply. "I can't tellwhether I want you to do anything or not until after we get to thenotch. We're losing time here," he finished, "and I've told you I'min a hurry to reach town. You ought to know it's important when I'mwilling to lose my liberty in order to get there."
"Well," returned Matt, "start on, Bascomb. You'll have to travel onfoot, and I'll keep close behind you."
Without further loss of time, Bascomb swung off down the canyon.
"I can pick up a horse at the Tanks," he called back, over hisshoulder, "and when we leave there we'll make better time. We'll haveto stop at the notch, but I hope we won't have to be there long."
"If you're figuring on having some of the gang meet you in the notch,and side-track me," said Matt, "I don't think we'll stop there at all."
"I give you my word," protested Bascomb, "that I'm not going to makeyou any trouble."
"Your word's not worth very much."
Bascomb made no answer to this, but gave his undivided attention tothe road and swung into a dog-trot. In less than a quarter of an hourafterward he reached the notch, Matt wheeling into it close at hisheels.
Bascomb halted and looked around expectantly. Apparently he did not seewhat he wanted to find, and he placed his fingers on his lips and gavea shrill whistle.
Matt had the revolver in his hand, and as he waited and watched hisfingers closed resolutely on the stock.
Following the whistle, there was a sound of quick movements up thesteep wall. A form bounded off the shelf and came tearing down theslope in the direction of Bascomb.
A startled exclamation escaped Matt's lips. The newcomer was a dog, andthe dog was the Great Dane!
It was plain that the dog recognized Matt. As the animal crouched atBascomb's feet, his baleful eyes turned in the boy's direction, and hegrowled menacingly.
"I'll shoot the brute if he comes near me!" shouted Matt.
"I'll not let him touch you," answered Bascomb, stooping to pat thedog's neck. "His recollections of you aren't of the pleasantest, Ireckon. Quiet, Bolivar!" he added.
The next moment Bascomb had untied a cord from the dog's collar andremoved a note. He read the note quickly, then tore it in fragmentsand threw the pieces away. Taking a note-book from his pocket, heproceeded to pencil some words on a leaf. Tearing out the leaf hefolded it compactly and carefully secured it to the leather band.
"Clear out, Bolivar!" he cried, when he had finished. "Off with you,old boy!" he added, and waved his hand toward the hills.
The dog got up, gave a final snarl at Matt, then leaped away. In a fewmoments he had whisked out of sight.
Matt was somewhat in doubt as to whether or not he ought to stop thisproceeding. It was dear that Bascomb had received a communication fromsome of the scattered gang, and had sent one in return. Was he planningto help them evade Burke and his posse?
Bascomb must have divined what was going on in Matt's mind, for heturned to him as soon as Bolivar was out of sight.
"There was nothing lawless about that note, or the one I sent back,King," said he. "It was private business, entirely. Now I'm going toscribble a few lines for you, and you can read them in a few days, orany time after we get to Phoenix."
More pencil work followed in the memorandum-book. Another leaf was tornout, folded, and handed to Matt. He put it into his pocket along withthe envelope returned to him by Burke.
The winding up of this incident seemed to give Bascomb a good deal ofrelief.
"Now," he observed, "I'm ready for a quick trip to Phoenix, and forwhatever happens there."
He whirled and started through the notch at a brisk pace.
"It's not often," he continued, talking as he strode along, "that a boymakes the hit with me that you have, Matt. You'll find out why as soonas we get to where we're going. How long have you been in this part ofthe country?"
"A year," replied Matt.
"Where did you come from?"
"Albany, New York."
"I'd have gambled something handsome you were from the East. I'm fromNew York City, myself, but I've been knocking around these hills fortwo years. You see," he added, "I'm a close friend of Dangerfield's,and his ideas and mine, about that Chinese Exclusion Act, areidentically the same. If this is a free country, how can we keep theChinks out, any more than the Eskimos, or the Dutch, or any one elsethat wants to come here? There's a hundred in cold cash for every Chinkthat's run across the border, and Dangerfield has been smuggling themin in droves. He has the system worked out fine, and there are good,reliable men at every station on his underground line. Juan Morisco isthe first of the outfit that ever went wrong."
For a while, Bascomb hurried along in silence; then he commencedtalking again.
"I reckon you understand, by now, how well Dangerfield had organizedhis gang. There wasn't a loop-hole he didn't have watched. Men inPhoenix were looking after McKibben, and the minute Morisco was juggedthey knew it; and when Morisco turned traitor and told what he knew,they found that out, too. For more than a year Dangerfield has beendoing his work and laughing at the authorities. But things were gettingtoo hot for him, and he was planning to go over into Mexico and go tomining in Sonora. He was ready for the dash across the border whenBurke got wind of it and went into camp at Potter's Gap, hoping to headthe gang off. Up at Tinaja Wells we knew what he was doing, and ifDangerfield hadn't sent Juan Morisco on a special mission to Phoenixthe lot of us would have got away from Burke and he'd never have caughtus."
Bascomb fell silent again, and for a mile or more he kept up hissteady, swinging gait.
"It was you, King," he went on, but with no malice in his voice, "whoput a spoke in Dangerfield's wheel. If it hadn't been for you and the_Comet_, the governor couldn't have got word to Burke before we had allslipped past him and gotten well off toward the border. That's the wayluck will take a turn sometimes."
All this was information that might be used against those of the gangwho had been captured, and Matt wondered at Bascomb's recklessness intelling it.
"If Jose had used persuasion with Ollie inst
ead of tying her to thewagon," Bascomb continued, with a tinge of bitterness, "there wouldn'thave been any trouble, and Juan and Jose would have gotten clear. Buta greaser never does a thing like a white man. It was while Jose wastying Ollie to the wagon, telling her he was doing it just to keep herfrom falling off, that the team got scared and began to run."
Bascomb muttered something to himself, his shoulders heaved and hishands clenched spasmodically. Some terrible emotion ran through him, asit had done before, and Matt was puzzled to account for it.
By that time they had drawn near the descent that led into the ravine.Before they started down, some one sprang out into the road in front ofthem.
"Matt!" yelled a familiar voice.
"Great Scott!" cried Matt, astounded. "What are you doing here, Clip?"
"Waiting for you," answered Clip, peering at Bascomb. "Think I wasgoing back to Phoenix without finding out something about how you'dcome out? Who's this?"
"One of Dangerfield's gang," said Matt. "I'm taking him in."
"Fine!" exclaimed Clip. "But don't go on just yet. The red roadster isat Frog Tanks. Those two roughs are in the _tienda_. If this is one ofthe gang, those two will make us trouble."
"An automobile?" cried Bascomb; "at the Tanks?"
Clip nodded. With a leap Bascomb sprang away down the slope.
"Bascomb!" shouted Matt. "Come back here!"
The revolver was in Matt's left hand. Before he could do anything withit, Clip grabbed it out of his hand, leveled it after the recedingform, and pulled the trigger. A futile _snap_ followed. Again and againClip tried to shoot, but always with the same result.
"I'll get him!" said Matt resolutely.
But before he could start the _Comet_, Clip had caught him and tried tohold him back.
"They'd kill you!" growled Clip. "Your life's worth more'n a thousanddollars. Let him go."
"I'll catch him before he reaches the Tanks," answered Matt.
The motor started, and Matt was dragged out of his chum's hands.
Motor Matt's Century Run; or, The Governor's Courier Page 12