A RISKY VENTURE.

While Roscoe was removing the ropes from Murgatroyd's hands and replacing them with a pair of steel manacles, Matt and McGlory stepped out of the shack for a brief talk.

"Young Prebbles is pretty badly cut up," said Cameron.

"He ought to be," said McGlory. "I reckon this is a lesson for him, and for any other young fellow who feels like taking the bit in his teeth."

"It's pretty tough," murmured Matt, shaking his head. "There's good stuff in young Prebbles."

"That's Pard Matt for you, Cameron," said the cowboy. "He always looks for the good stuff in a fellow and never sees much of anything else."

"After all," approved Cameron, "that's the best way. But I'll warrant Matt can't find much to commend in Murgatroyd."

"He's old enough to know right from wrong," said Matt, "and now that he's made his bed, he's got to lie in it. Where did you find the sheriff, Cameron?"

"Wired him I was coming, and he met me at the train with a couple of riding horses. They couldn't remember anything definite at the post office, although one of the clerks had a hazy recollection that some one had called for a letter addressed to Hobbes. That's all we had to go on. We hit the trail and rode hard."

"Good thing you did. If you hadn't ridden so hard you might have got here too late."

"What a day this has been! I should think you fellows would be about fagged."

Before Matt could make any response, Newt Prebbles came out of the shack.

"I'm going, just the same," said he doggedly.

"There's no way you can get to the post in time, Prebbles," returned Cameron kindly.

"I'll get there, anyhow, whether I'm late or not. Good heavens! You don't understand what this means to me! You don't know——"

He bit his lips to keep back the emotion that grew with the words.

"I've just got to go," he finished. "I'll get through somehow."

"How'll you get from here to Bismarck?" inquired Cameron.

"On Murgatroyd's horse."

"Your connections are poor all the way through. You'll not be able to reach Totten before to-morrow afternoon."

"I'm going."

"Wait," said Matt. "Are you willing to take a little risk, Prebbles?"

"Risk? I'd take any risk if it could shorten my trip to Totten by a single hour."

"Do you know the country between here and Totten?"

"Every foot of it."

"By night as well as by day?"

"Any time."

"Let's get a little something to eat," said Matt, "and then I'll agree to get you to Totten inside of three hours."

"How?"

"We'll use the aËroplane."

There was a silence, then a protest from McGlory.

"Pard, you're not made of iron. You can't stand that trip, after all you've done. Sufferin' cats! Why, you're workin' every second you're runnin' the Comet! And it's the hardest kind of work, at that."

"I can do it," said Matt, looking around at the gathering dusk. "But we'll have to start before it gets too dark."

"Look at the risk!"

"We'll face it. Besides, it's not so much."

There was no arguing with Matt. He had his mind made up and was like a rock.

"You and Ping, Joe," said Matt, "will come with Cameron and Murgatroyd. Have you a lantern, Newt?"

"Yes."

"Get it."

The lantern was secured and lighted. After Matt had hastily bolted a few mouthfuls of food, he took the lantern and started for the place where he had left the Comet.

Cameron, Ping, and McGlory accompanied the king of the motor boys and Newt Prebbles. Roscoe remained at the shack with Murgatroyd.

The rope with which the aËroplane had been made fast to the trees was taken off, and Matt, while he was going over the machine to see that everything was in proper order, told McGlory to hunt for a favorable place to make the start.

When Matt had finished his inspection, the cowboy had selected the nearest spot which was at all promising.

"It's at the top of the bank, Matt," said McGlory. "There's a clear stretch, sloping slightly to the east."

"Then let's get the machine up there."

The Comet, a ghostly monstrosity in the gloom, was pushed and pulled to the top of the bank and pointed down the slight slope. Matt walked over the course of the start with the lantern, to make sure there were no stones in the way.

"We don't want the lantern," said Matt, coming back and handing the light to McGlory. "Lock up the shack when you leave and bring the key with you, Joe."

McGlory was nervous and apprehensive. He grabbed Matt's hand before he took his seat.

"It's a risky venture," he breathed.

"A little risk, of course," answered Matt. "There always is."

"But this is night, pard. You never tried to fly the machine at night before."

"There's always got to be a first time."

"There's some wind, too."

"Not enough to be dangerous."

"You'll win out, Motor Matt," said Cameron; "you always do."

"There's got to be a first time when he won't," croaked McGlory dismally.

"Take your seat, Newt," said Matt.

Newt, without a word, placed himself as directed.

"I guess we're all ready," called Matt, starting the motor. "Help us in the getaway, you fellows."

Cameron, McGlory, and Ping pushed the car down the slope through the dusk. Finally it drew away from them, and they saw it, like a huge spectre, sailing skyward.

Newt Prebbles undoubtedly remembered more about that daring night trip than Motor Matt.

The king of the motor boys had eyes and ears for nothing but his work. The propeller whirled the great planes on and on into the gloom, and sense of touch alone told Matt when to meet the varying points of air pressure by a shift of the wing tips.

Newt said little, and what he did say was in the nature of directions for keeping the Comet on the right course. With eyes peering ahead and downward, he watched the dusky panorama flitting away below them.

Matt admired his courage. Calm and steady, he kept rigidly to his place, interfered in no way with the freedom of Matt's movements, and watched alertly for the landmarks with which he was familiar.

Whenever they swept over a cluster of lights, young Prebbles named the town instantly.

The stars came out in the dusky vault overhead, and a big moon crept up over the horizon.

Swinging through space, hung from the zenith as by invisible cords, the Comet glided steadily and surely onward.

"Oberon," announced Newt, as they swept across a gleaming mat of yellow.

"Great spark plugs!" exclaimed the king of the motor boys. "I don't know, Newt, but I've a notion we're making a record flight."

"It's wonderful," mused young Prebbles; "but there's something which, to my mind, is even more wonderful than this work of the flying machine."

"What's that?"

"Why, that you're doing this for me—for a man who nearly drowned himself trying to get away from you, and who tried his best to cripple you, or the Comet, with a bullet."

"We all of us make mistakes, now and then," answered Matt. "It's a mighty foolish man who won't rectify a mistake when he finds he has made one."

From Oberon the course led north and east.

"There's the post trader's store," reported Prebbles.

"That means we're just about where we're going," said Matt.

"Where'll we come down?"

"On the parade ground at the post."

When near the old fort, they could hear the call of the sentries, and were able to mark the fringe of oil lamps around the barracks and officers' quarters.

Silently, like a wraith from the Unknown, they dropped downward, struck on the bicycle wheels, and glided to a stop.

"Be hivins," cried a voice, "it's th' Comet. Now what would you be afther thinkin' av that? Th' Comet, d'ye moind, rammin' around in th' dark th' same as if it was broad day. Is that yerself, Motor Matt?"

"Yes," said Matt, stepping out of the machine. "How's Prebbles, O'Hara?"

"Th' ould sawbones has given up hope, an' that's all I kin tell ye. But who is it ye have along?"

"Prebbles' son. Take him up to Cameron's quarters at once, will you?"

"Sure I will."

"I'll see you in the morning, Newt," Matt added.

Young Prebbles paused to grasp Matt's hand.

"I appreciate what you have done for me, don't forget that," he said.

Matt gave the Comet into the care of a guard, then hunted up a place to sleep. His head had hardly dropped on the pillow before he was off for the land of dreams.