MOTOR MATT'S TRIUMPH.

Edith Hawley was a stunningly pretty girl. There was little of her father's looks about her, however, and it was quite clear that she got most of her character from her mother's side of the house. She was a little pale, but otherwise showed no bad effects of the ordeal through which she had passed earlier in the day.

All those on the porch got up as the two callers drew near the steps—that is, all except Welcome Perkins. The old ex-buccaneer of the plains just sat where he was and glared.

"Excuse me for buttin' in here," said Hawley, "but my daughter's got a little business with King." He turned to the girl. "Fire away, Edie," he added.

"Which is Mr. King?" queried the girl, in a low voice.

Matt stepped away from the others and came down the steps.

"I saw you when you stopped the horse," Edith Hawley went on, fixing her hazel eyes on Matt's face, "but I couldn't remember much, then. I want to thank you. Father brought me here so that I could. I want you to understand how grateful I am."

She put out her hand timidly and Matt took it cordially.

"That's all right, Miss Hawley," said he, flushing. "What I did for you I would have done for anybody caught in the same way."

"I believe that," she returned significantly. "Even if you had known who I was it wouldn't have made any difference."

"Not a particle," answered Matt.

"Isn't there something my father can do for you?" she asked.

Matt shook his head.

"Well," she went on, "there's something I'm going to do for you." She turned. "Father——"

"Wait a minute, Edie," interrupted Hawley. "Let me tell all of you," and he faced those on the porch, "just how I stand in the matter of that minin'-claim. It won't take more'n a minute, and it may save a lot of hard feelin's. I've been grub-stakin' Jacks for two or three years, and he ain't never yet found anythin' but country rock. I was gettin' tired o' puttin' up good money, an' the last time he started out I told him he'd got to find somethin' or we'd split up our partnership. I reckon that made him rather too keen for a strike, so that he didn't care much how he made it just so he delivered the goods.

"Well, when Dace Perry came to me t'other day an' says he's found a letter concernin' me an' Jacks, of course I read it; an', havin' grub-staked Jacks, quite naturally I took his side. I sent Bisbee out to help Jacks keep what was rightfully his an' mine, an' later I sent Perry out on a horse to find out what they were doin' an' report.

"Well, Perry comes in with a location notice, an' says he had to ride like Sam Hill to get ahead o' Matt King, who was hustling for town with a notice o' McReady's. That's all Perry told me. Never a word, mind ye, about scarin' Edie's horse an' makin' it run away, nary a word about what Matt King done to stop the horse—all he said was what I'm tellin' ye.

"By and by, Edie was brought home by a man I know, who had seen the runaway from start to finish. He told me the whole of it."

Dirk Hawley's coarse, heavy face was flushed. His voice shook a little as he went on.

"Edie's goin' to school in 'Frisco, an' she come out here to make her father a short visit. There ain't anythin' I wouldn't do for her, an' about the first thing I did after she struck town was to buy Ajax, that white riding-horse. She knows how to ride, Edie does—none better—but the way Perry scared the horse didn't leave Edie much of a chance. If King hadn't taken after Ajax, I—I——"

Hawley snapped his heavy lower jaw and remained silent for a moment.

"Well," he finished, "I gave Perry three hours to get out of town an' to go back to Denver where he belongs. He needs lookin' after, an' his father's the one to do it. I know King won't let me do anythin' for him, but I reckon he won't balk on takin' a little somethin' from Edie."

"I don't want any of your money, Mr. Hawley," began Matt, "if that's what——"

"Sure you don't," broke in the gambler grimly, "you don't want any o' my money an' you're not goin' to get any." He pulled a folded paper from his pocket. "I'd have done this sooner," he went on, "only I had to send my automobile out after Jacks. It was necessary for him to sign the paper along with me."

He gave the document to Edith, and she turned and placed the paper in Matt's hand.

"It's a quitclaim deed to that mine," she said, "and it's made out to James McReady. It's yours, Mr. King, because you won it. If you hadn't stopped to save me, you'd have got to the recorder's office first. It isn't much to do for the service you rendered me, but I'm sure you wouldn't let us do any more. Good-by!"

She held out her hand again. After Matt had clasped the small palm for the second time, she turned, took her father's arm, and they went back to the automobile.

In astonishment the group on the porch watched the car turn in the road and disappear in the direction of town.

"Waal, waal!" gulped Welcome Perkins. "Somebody please ter pinch me, so's I kin wake up. It must be a dream—can't be nothin' else. Dirk Hawley! Actin' like that!"

Welcome picked up his wooden pin and looked hard at the brass tip on the end of it.

Chub was also staggered.

"Get next that he didn't say anything about that underhand work," he commented, "how he had the wireless instruments smashed, and all that."

"He's keeping such things from his daughter," said Susie. "Can you blame him for that?"

"Let him be straight, then," put in Clip. "If he wants the girl to think he's honest and respectable, let him act the part. It's the easiest way."

"It was the gal as done it," grinned Welcome. "Dirk Hawley never'd hev sashayed over here an' give up that quitclaim o' his own free will an' accord. Not him!"

"You don't know about that, Welcome," said Matt. "It isn't always wise to be so quick with your snap judgments."

"And Perry's gone," went on Clip, scowling. "Hawley ordered him out of town. He had to go. And I had no chance to settle our account. Some day we'll meet again. Those of my race do not forget easily. It will keep."

"Perry owes Hawley a heap of plunks, I've heard," put in Chub. "Probably Perry had to hike or face a whole lot of trouble."

Matt stepped over to the prospector and gave him the quitclaim deed.

"That 'strike' of yours has made you a good deal of trouble, Mr. McReady," said he, "but I don't think we have any of us got any kick coming on the way the business has turned out. I hope the claim will make a bonanza mine, and that the McReadys will have more money than they can spend."

"Hip, hip, hurroo!" wheezed Welcome. "Canned stuff—that's what the McReadys lives on fer all the rest o' their days."

"Canned stuff"—plenty of it—was Welcome's idea of luxury.

McReady, as he took the quitclaim deed, gripped Motor Matt's hand.

"Matt," said he, with feeling, "but for you, this would never have come about. It was a big day for the McReadys when Chub chummed up with you, my boy. You ought to share in this good luck; by every law of right and justice, you're entitled to an interest in the 'strike.'"

Matt shook his head.

"It's a family affair," said he, "and you couldn't make me take even a piece of quartz from the 'blow-out.'"

"That's Matt King for you," observed Tom Clipperton gruffly, edging around until he stood at Matt's side. "True to his friends. That's why he has made a hit with me."

Clipperton, on his own account, knew what it was to have Motor Matt for a friend.

"We're going to Denver," Clipperton went on. "If Chub don't buy Penny's motor-cycle, I'll buy it myself."

"I've got to hunt up that wheel," murmured Chub, who appeared to be a bit dazed. "Mebby I'll have to pay for the old terror without getting it. And there's Old Baldy, an' Perry's horse out at the Bluebell. Wish I could call up Delray by wireless and tell him all about this. Matt, you're the best pal in the world. Don't I wish I could go to Denver with you. But it's me to the woods—or school."

Chub jumped for Matt and grabbed his hand.

"An' I'm wonderin'," said old Welcome plaintively, stumping forward along the porch, "if ye'll let a pore ole reformed road-agent grip yer honest pa'm, Matt? I've shore made some mistakes, an' among 'em I thought ridin' that benzine go-devil o' Penny's was about the wust; but I've changed my mind. If it hadn't been fer me makin' Hawley drap on the bridge like I done, that there letter wouldn't never hev been picked up by Matt, an' Hawley an' Perry would hev had things their own way. Shucks! I'm in on this rejoicin' some myself. Ain't I now, honest Injun?"

"You are, Welcome," declared Matt heartily; "if you hadn't been so bull-headed, and had found out how to stop the motor-cycle as well as to start it, that letter wouldn't have been picked up."

"Bull-headed!" demurred Welcome. "H'm! You hand out a word now an' ag'in, that kinder jars. Anyhow, I'm proposin' three cheers fer Motor Matt. Next ter the ole ex-pirate, he done more'n anybody else to save the claim. Let 'er go, now. Jine in hearty, all you McReadys! Hip, hip——"

They made a good deal of noise for a small crowd, and it's safe to say that Motor Matt was the happiest one in the lot.

THE END.

THE NEXT NUMBER (3) WILL CONTAIN

Motor Matt's "Century" Run

OR,

THE GOVERNOR'S COURIER.

Welcome Takes a Sudden Drop—A Queer Situation—"Rags"—A Dangerous Mission—The Red Roadster—Surmounting the Difficulty—Smoke Signals—On the Divide—A Ruse that Won—At Potter's Gap—Joe Bascomb—Bolivar Turns Up—The Red Roadster Again—On to Phoenix—The End of the Mystery—Matt Reports to the Governor.

NEW YORK, March 6, 1909.

TERMS TO MOTOR STORIES MAIL SUBSCRIBERS.

(Postage Free.)

Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each.

How to Send Money—By post-office or express money-order, registered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own risk if sent by currency, coin, or postage-stamps in ordinary letter.

Receipts—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper change of number on your label. If not correct you have not been properly credited, and should let us know at once.