CONCERNING THE LETTER.

Carl came back in time to help Matt clean the dust and dirt off the Red Flier, to replenish the oil, fill the water-tank and strain a full supply of gasoline into the fuel-chamber. The car was then backed into an unused barn connected with the hotel, and the boys washed the dirt off their hands and faces and went in to supper.

Mr. Tomlinson did not show himself down-stairs. His meal was carried to his room.

Carl babbled continually while he and Matt were eating, but Matt had very little to say in reply. His mind was busy with the letter.

When they had finished supper, Matt and Carl went up to their own room. Inasmuch as the Red Flier was to make an early start for Flagstaff, the following morning, Matt had invited the Dutch boy to spend the night with him.

As soon as they were in the room, and Matt had closed and locked the door, he drew up a chair close to Carl's and began telling him, in a low voice, about what he had found under the rubber mat in the tonneau.

"Py shinks!" exploded Carl, "dere iss unterhandt vork going on, Matt, I bed you!"

"Not so loud, Carl," cautioned Matt. "I don't know where Tomlinson's room is, but it may be next to this one."

"You t'ink he knows somet'ing aboudt dot?" whispered Carl, in amazement.

"He may, and he may not. I don't know what to think. Anyhow, the letter doesn't belong to him, and I'm going to read it and see what it has to say. If it contains any information worth while, I've got to tell the deputy sheriff."

"Sure!" returned Carl. "It's funny dot you don'd read it pefore."

"I've been thinking about it, and trying to figure out what I had better do. If James Trymore is a Denver crook, I can't understand how a letter to him got into Mr. Tomlinson's car."

"Dere's monkey-doodle pitzness somevere," muttered Carl, shaking his head ominously. "Vell, let's see vat dot ledder say, den ve know pedder vat to do."

The letter was short, but its contents were amazing.

"Jim: Got your note this morning. Glad to hear the pearls are on the way. Count on me. Will cut loose from Wienerwurst to-night, check trunk through to the Needles and leave on night train, getting off at Brockville and meeting you there.

Pringle."

"Pringle!" gurgled Carl. "Py shiminy grickets, dot's der feller vat run avay und took all vat I hat! Vell, vell! Vouldn't dot gif you a twist!"

"This note," murmured Matt, as several things dawned on his mind, "was written in answer to the one you found on the floor of Pringle's room, the morning you discovered he had skipped."

"Sure!" averred Carl. "Dot's as blain as anyt'ing. Und Pringle say somet'ing aboudt der bearls, doo. Say, look here vonce! I bed you dot Drymore und Pringle put oop some chobs to rop Domlinson oof dose bearls, und Domlinson vas doo sharp for dem. He sailed avay from der roppers und dey don'd ged nodding! Vell, led's be jeerful. I like pooty goot to see dot kind oof luck hit Pringle, afder vat he dit py me. Yah, you bed you!"

Carl couldn't see very far ahead. But Matt could, and he began to open up a line of speculation that took Carl's breath.

"The question is, Carl, how did that letter get under the rubber mat in the tonneau of the Red Flier? Tomlinson says he didn't stop, when the robbers commanded him to, but hit it up and sailed away from them. Now, if Trymore had that letter, and if he and Pringle were the robbers, how could the letter get out of Trymore's pocket and into the car? That had to happen in some way."

"I'm oop a shtump," admitted the puzzled Carl, shoving his fingers through his hair. "I nefer vas mooch oof a feller ad guessing oudt cornundums. Vat you t'ink, Matt?"

"I think Tomlinson must have been mixed up in it, in some way."

"How could dot be?" returned Carl. "Domlinson iss a rich man, und he vouldn't haf nodding to do mit fellers like Drymore und Pringle. Pesides, Domlinson hat der bearls. He vouldn't vant to go indo a game vere he vas to rop himseluf!"

"You don't catch my idea at all, Carl," whispered Matt excitedly. "Maybe this fellow who calls himself Tomlinson isn't the real Tomlinson at all! Maybe he's some one else, and just posing as Tomlinson!"

"Aber der toctor say dot Domlinson iss a real feller, und dot he lifs in Tenver, und dot he read aboudt him in der Tenver bapers."

"That may all be," went on Matt. "I don't mean to say that there isn't any one by the name of Tomlinson, or that he isn't a rich man, and hasn't a jewelry-store, and all that. If Tomlinson is a jeweler, he might naturally be on the lookout for pearls. Trymore may have found out he had that fortune in black pearls, and have put up a deal to get hold of them. That's the way it looks to me from what evidence we have. But, for all that, the man we brought in may not be Tomlinson, but one of the thieves who got the pearls!"

Carl fell back in his seat with a gasp. His brain was whirling with the startling surmises Matt had evolved.

"Meppy you vas righdt, Matt," Carl finally returned, "aber you don'd know nodding for sure. Oof you tell der deputy sheriff, und make some misdakes, den you lose your chob, und ve bot' lose a shance to ged to Tenver. Be jeerful, pard, und don'd go und do someding dot you'll be sorry vat you done."

"I'm going to find out whether Tomlinson—or the man who says he's Tomlinson—put that Trymore letter under the mat. If we find that he did it, then we'll know he must be one of the robbers, and not Tomlinson at all. If we find he didn't, then it's a cinch he's straight goods."

"How you do dot, Matt?"

"Well, we'll steal out to the barn and put the letter where I found it. Then we'll watch and see if Tomlinson goes after it. If Tomlinson is mixed up in this business, he'll be thinking about it, and he'll know that letter is under the mat. He'll be wondering if I got hold of it, and he'll be anxious to sneak down and find out. See?"

"Sure!" approved Carl. "Dot's a fine biece oof pitzness. Ve'll take der ledder down und put him vere he come from—aber vait schust a leedle. Dere iss somet'ing yet in der writing vat I don'd undershtand."

With the letter open in his hand, Carl ran his finger over some of the words.

"'Vill cut loose from Wienerwurst'," read Carl. "Vat dit Pringle mean by dot?"

Matt laughed softly. Carl was as good as a circus, now and then.

"Why," answered Matt, "he means that he'll cut loose from you. Which is just what he did."

"Yah, so," said Carl grimly. "Dot's a new vone. Wienerwurst! I fix him for dot vone oof dose days. Anyvay, led's be jeerful. Pringle ain'd so mooch himseluf. Den look, vat I see again. 'Vill check trunk drough to der Needles.' He means py dot, meppy, dot der trunk, mit vat I got insite, has gone on to der Needles. Vell, pympy I ged dot trunk. Yah, you bed you! 'Wienerwurst!' Ach, du lieber!"

Carl threw the letter away from him and got up.

"Pringle make some monkey-doodle pitzness mit me, und you bed you I do der same mit him."

Matt picked up the letter, returned it to the envelope, and he and Carl cautiously opened the door and let themselves out into the hall. Making as little noise as possible, they descended to the outside door, passed into the dark street, turned the corner of the hotel and made for the barn.

It was about eight o'clock, and everything was gloomy and silent in the vicinity of the hotel.

"Meppy you pedder shtrike some lights, hey?" suggested Carl, following Matt into the blank darkness that reigned in the makeshift garage.

"No, we don't have to do that," said Matt. "I know right where the machine is, and a light might give us away. You stand in the door, Carl, and I'll put the letter where I found it and be with you again in a brace of shakes."

"Vell, hurry oop. Oof Domlinson vas to come vile ve vas here, den ve vould be der vones vat got fooled."

Matt, with the location of the Red Flier firmly fixed in his mind, groped his way through the gloom and came to the front of the machine. With one hand sliding over the bonnet, he reached the side of the car, opened the tonneau door and stepped to the foot-board.

Just at that moment, while he was bending over with the letter in his hand, a pencil of light leaped suddenly out of the gloom and rested full on him.

Straightening up suddenly, he whirled his face into the light.

For an instant his eyes were blinded, and he could see nothing.

"Quick!" he heard a husky voice mutter from somewhere in the darkness. "Down him and grab that letter!" The next instant a fist leaped out of the gloom and into the ray of light. Matt dropped downward, falling off the foot-board.

The fist hit him a glancing blow on the shoulder, and he toppled backward. At the same moment the letter was snatched out of his hand.

"Py shinks," came the voice of Carl, "vat vas going on, anyvay? Who you fellers vas? Keep avay from me, or——"

Running feet had sounded along the barn floor. While Carl was talking, some one ran into him and knocked him flat with a quick blow.

As the boy went down, two men bounded over him.

Carl was up almost as soon as he was down. Some one else was coming, and he flung out his hands and made a grab.

"Vaid a leedle!" he puffed savagely. "I got you, anyvay, und——"

"Let go, Carl!" came Matt's excited voice. "Take after those two men! See who they are, if you can!"

Carl gasped and withdrew his hands.

"Vell, oof it ain'd Matt!" he muttered. "So many t'ings vas habbening, all in a punch, dot I peen all mixed oop in my mindt!"

With that, Carl rushed away in the direction taken by Matt.