THE RUNAWAY AUTO.

"Vat's der madder?" gasped Carl, as he came to a staggering halt.

"Look!" cried Matt, pointing.

An automobile—a big, red touring-car—rolled past the boys. If they had not jumped just when they did it would have run them down. It had come without warning, other than the muffled noise caused by its machinery, and Matt had been so taken up with the talk of his new acquaintance that he had not heard the car's approach until the last moment.

"Vy didn't he honk?" sputtered Carl.

"He?" flung back Matt, staring, and hardly able to believe his eyes. "Why, there wasn't any one to honk!"

This amazing statement was literally true. As the car passed them, the boys could see that there was no one in either of the front seats, or in the tonneau. The car had no passengers, and was running itself!

"Vell, py chimineddy!" murmured Carl, aghast.

The car was not going at a high rate of speed—perhaps fifteen miles an hour—but, even at that gait, it was rapidly leaving a wide gap between it and the boys.

Matt was nonplused, but he side-tracked his bewilderment in a hurry and tried to think of some means for overtaking the runaway auto and bringing it to a halt. This must be done before the car reached town, or there would surely be an accident.

Matt flashed his eyes about him. Houses were few and far between in that part of the settlement, but, as luck would have it, a horse was standing in front of a dwelling on the right of the road.

Without losing a moment, Matt rushed to the horse, jerked the bridle-reins over the top of a post, clambered into the saddle and dug out after the red car.

Carl was yelling and talking excitedly, but Matt had no attention to pay to him, and the Dutch boy's words soon died out in the distance.

For several miles that road into Ash Fork was perfectly straight. The runaway car, however, was heading for a bend where trees and telephone-poles would surely wreck it unless it was halted or turned.

As Matt, with the horse on the keen jump, came closer to the car, he saw that the steering-wheel had been lashed by a rope. Attached to one of the top-irons on the right side of the front seat, the lashing engaged the spokes of the steering-wheel and crossed to the top-iron on the left. This fastening held the wheel rigid, and kept the car on a straight course.

How to drop from the saddle of the running horse and into the car was a point that Matt turned over in his mind as he raced. He had not many seconds in which to mark out a line of action—and he did not need many.

Pushing the horse to top speed, Matt passed the car; then, with a quick jerk on the reins, he brought the horse to a slower pace, tumbled out of the saddle, caught his footing in the road and flung himself at the running-board as the car came abreast of him.

He was jolted considerably, although no particular damage was done, and got into the tonneau with a wild scramble. By then the car was dangerously close to the bend, and Matt threw himself across the back of the front seat and into the driver's position. With lightning quickness he cut off the power and threw on the emergency brake. The machine halted, but with a telephone-pole almost between the front wheels!

With a deep breath of relief, Matt stood up to see what Carl was doing. The fat Dutchman was trying to head off and stop the horse. The animal, as soon as Matt had dropped from the saddle, had whirled back along the road. Not a little frightened, the horse seemed now about to turn in Matt's direction in order to escape Carl.

Hastily cutting away the wheel-lashing with his knife, Matt sprang from the car and ran back, so he and Carl could keep the horse between them. This move was successful, and the Dutch boy, by an exercise of marvelous agility for one of his build, managed to grab the horse by the bits.

"Vat shall I do mit him, Matt?" cried Carl.

"Take him back to the place where I got him, Carl," called Matt, "then bring that laundry of ours and come to the car. There's a mystery here that we've got to look into."

Matt's wild ride on horseback, and his capture of the car, had not brought a single person out of the squat little adobe houses sprinkled along the road. For the most part, the houses were inhabited by Chinamen, and they had little curiosity for the Melican man's devil-wagon; not enough, at least, to let the stopping of the car draw them from their own affairs.

Matt looked the machine over with an admiring eye. It was a fine late model, with six cylinders under the long hood. From the amount of dust with which the machine was covered it seemed to have come a long distance. The tires, however, were in excellent condition, the gasoline-tank was half full, and there was still a good supply of oil.

Familiar as Matt was with motor vehicles, he knew the car must have cost five or six thousand dollars. Why was such a valuable machine loose in the road? Who was the owner? And where was the owner?

Getting into the tonneau, Matt searched for something that would offer a clue to the mystery. He could find nothing. He was just straightening up after his unsuccessful examination when Carl came along.

"Py chiminy," puffed Carl, "I nefer heardt oof anyt'ing like dot! Matt, you vas a great feller. Dot's righdt. Oof you hatn't done vat you dit, I bed you somet'ing der modor-car vould haf peen a lot oof junk. Yah, so. Vere you learn how to run audomopiles, hey?"

"Used to work in a motor factory," answered Matt. "What do you think of this lay out, Carl?" he asked. "Here's a fine big touring-car running itself along the road, no clue to the owner, and the steering-wheel lashed to keep it on a straight line!"

Apparently the question was too difficult for Carl. Thoughtfully he tossed the two bundles of laundry into the tonneau, walked around in front and opened the bonnet. The beautiful mechanism disclosed brought an admiring cry from the Dutch boy's lips.

"Py shinks," he murmured, "you don'd find cylinters like dot in cheap cars, Matt!"

"What do you know about cylinders?" demanded Matt, opening his eyes at this new side of the Teuton's character.

"Vell," and Carl ran his fingers through the mop of hair, "meppy I don'd know how to dake a car apart und put him togedder again, aber I t'ink yah. I vorked vonce in some factories meinseluf—pefore I got foolish und vent on der stage mit Pringle. You bed you I know der carpuretter from der spark-plug, but I don'd got der nerf to make a drifer."

Carl had been through experiences about which Matt was anxious to learn, but, for the present, the mystery of the red car claimed his entire attention.

"Why should any one want to cut a car like this adrift?" queried Matt.

"Dat's more as I know," answered Carl, closing the bonnet, "aber led's be jeerful, Matt. Oof fife t'ousant tollars comes rolling indo our hants, all py itseluf, for vy shouldn't ve be jeerful?"

"This car don't belong to us, Carl, just because we happened to stop it."

"Vell, oof you hatn't shtopped it it vouldn't haf peen vort' nodding! Und der feller vat hat it didn't vant it, or he vouldn't haf let it go. So helup me, I t'ink it pelongs py us. I vant to go py Tenver. Vere do you vant to go?"

"I came from Phoenix to Ash Fork, two weeks ago, with a letter of recommendation to a wealthy cattleman who has just bought a big automobile and wants a driver. I had my eye on the job, Carl, but the cattleman hasn't shown up. He lives here, though, and I'm waiting for him. If it wasn't for that, I'd just as soon pull out for Denver, myself."

"I don'd got some money," said Carl, "und along comes der audomopile und say, 'Chump in, boys, und led me dake you py Tenver!' Und I, in der jeerful vay vat I haf, make some remarks aboudt 'Vy nod?'"

Matt went around to the front and began cranking.

"Well, jump in," said he, coming back and getting into the driver's seat; "we're going to start."

"For Tenver?" cried Carl.

"Hardly," laughed Matt, backing away and turning the car in the road; "we're off along the back trail to look for the touring-car's owner."

"Vell, meppy he don'd vant it?"

"Then, if we find him, we'll give him a chance to say so."

"How you t'ink ve vas goin' to find him?"

"This car hasn't been abandoned very long, nor very many miles back on the road. You see, the road is straight for only a few miles, and the car, with the wheel lashed as it was, could only travel along the straight track. If it had been abandoned before it was put on the straight track, it would have been in the ditch."

"You know more in a minit as I in a year know, Matt," said Carl, heaving a long breath, "und dot's all aboudt it. Ve vill look for der owner, und I vill shdill be jeerful efen oof he dakes der car und makes me valk by Tenver, yah, so. It vas some pig mysderies, anyvay; py chimineddy, it vas der piggest vale oof a mysdery vat efer come my vay."

Motor Matt agreed with Carl. Somewhere along the straight stretch of road ahead of them he felt sure the key to the mystery would be found.

And what would it reveal?