BACK TO THE CAR.

There was but one place where Spangler could have come from, and that was the east road. The stolen car must have been driven along the direct trail leading to Ash Fork and have stopped so as to let Spangler out at the nearest point to the hut.

As Matt turned on the ruffian, Tomlinson and Gregory started up from the bench.

"There's one of the rascals!" exclaimed Tomlinson.

Spangler, for a moment, had shown evidences of surprise. Getting quick control of himself, he pushed into the hut and started for Matt.

"Waal, my bantam," he sneered, "I reckon ye didn't make sich a clean gitaway, arter all. Here's where ye git what's comin' if ye don't fork over that bag. Hurry up with it! Ye've made us a heap o' trouble an' we ain't allowin' ter put up with any more o' yer foolishness."

"Why, you infernal scoundrel," cried Tomlinson wrathfully, "you're my prisoner! Put down that revolver, or——"

"Oh, you say moo an' chase yerself!" scoffed Spangler. "I got bizness with young King, here, an' if you butt in ye're goin' ter git hurt. I'll take them pearls," he added to Matt, "an' I'll take 'em now."

Spangler was only one against three, but he was armed, and two of the men he faced were worn out with the physical suffering they had endured. The ruffian was counting confidently on having things his own way, and Matt was wondering how he could checkmate him.

Hank must be somewhere around. Probably, Matt reasoned to himself, Hank was in the east road keeping guard of the driver of the stolen car.

"Your lease of liberty is short," fumed Tomlinson; "I'll spend my last dollar, if I have to, in bringing you and the rest of your infernal gang to book."

"Fer the last time, King!" growled Spangler, moving his revolver significantly. "I've chinned all I'm goin' ter about that bag. Either pass it over or take what's comin'."

Matt had got around behind the bench. He had done this in a casual manner so as not to arouse Spangler's suspicions. Just as the ruffian finished, Matt kicked the bench against his legs.

Spangler staggered back. He did not lose his balance, but, in order to keep from falling, he had to throw up his arms.

This was the opportunity Matt wanted. Like a flash he jumped over the bench and his right fist shot out in a blow straight from the shoulder.

It was no light tap, for the young motorist put all his heart and science into that darting right-hander. Spangler was caught on the point of the jaw and driven against the crumbling adobe wall. The revolver fell from his hand, and Matt pounced upon it and brought it level with Spangler's breast.

"By gad!" cried the admiring Tomlinson. "What do you think of that, Gregory? Did you ever see anything neater than that? King, you're a wonder! Bravo!"

"He's quicker'n chain lightning!" averred Gregory.

Spangler was having recourse to his usual tactics whenever things went wrong with him, and was swearing like an army teamster.

"That will do, Spangler!" said Matt sternly. "Swearing never helped anybody and it's not going to help you. Stow it."

"I'll have yer life fer this, my buck," gritted Spangler, rubbing the point of his jaw, and glaring.

"Not right away you won't," returned Matt coolly. "Step around to the other wall. We want to pass that door, and you're too close to it."

"If ye think ye're goin' ter make a clean gitaway," scowled Spangler, as he moved across the room, "ye've got a surprise ahead o' ye. Ye kain't bump Hank as easy as ye bumped me."

"What are you going to do, King?" asked Tomlinson.

"Get away from here as quick as we can," answered Matt.

"Aren't you going to take that scoundrel along, now that we've captured him?"

"No, it's impossible."

"Impossible?" echoed Tomlinson incredulously. "Why, we've got him right in our hands."

"His partner is close by, in another road, and his partner has a faster car than your Red Flier, Mr. Tomlinson. We've got to get away from here in a hurry. Take my word for it. There's no time to talk about it. Hurry out, you and Gregory, and make for the west road. I've got a friend there watching the car."

"But——"

"Hurry!"

There was a compelling note in Matt's voice that caused Gregory to catch hold of his employer's arm and pull him toward the door.

"He knows what he's talking about, Mr. Tomlinson," said Gregory. "Here's a chance for you to get away, and get back your pearls and the car. The boy has shown that he has pluck and sense, and we'd better do what he says."

This logic overcame Tomlinson's objections, and the two passed out of the hut.

Matt backed after them.

"Ye better leave that gun," called Spangler.

"I'll leave it," answered Matt, "just as soon as it's safe. Where's Hank?"

"Ye'll find him quick enough!" was the grim response.

Getting through the door, Matt turned and hurried after Tomlinson and Gregory.

Tomlinson was bareheaded. He wore an automobile-coat that reached to his heels, but there was no coat or vest underneath it. The missing garments, it seemed clear, had been appropriated by the scheming Trymore.

"If we could have taken that villain with us," fretted Tomlinson when Matt came up with him and Gregory, "we would have had at least one of the gang. Now they'll all go scot-free."

"We've got to think of ourselves, first and foremost," said Matt. "If you and Gregory escape, and you get your car and your pearls, the sheriff can go after the gang."

"But see what they did to me!" went on Tomlinson querulously, opening his dust-coat and showing himself stripped to the shirt. "The rascal I wounded took part of my clothes, my watch, pocketbook, and some personal papers. Then, to throw us into that miserable hovel as though we were dogs? Gad, it makes my blood boil to think of it."

"You might take the pearls," said Matt, and handed him the bag. "If you could travel a little faster——"

"Can't go any faster!" declared Tomlinson. "We haven't had anything to eat or drink for nearly twenty-four hours, and my hands and feet feel like sticks. I'm anxious to know how you managed to get these pearls, King——"

"I'll tell you all about that just as soon as we get to Ash Fork."

Matt's anxiety was intense. He felt sure that Hank was doing something, and the thought bothered him. Tomlinson and Gregory were creeping along, gathering strength with every minute, yet not fast enough to suit Matt.

"I was foolish ever to carry these pearls with me," went on Tomlinson, "but I expected to dispose of part of them to a dealer in Albuquerque, and thought I could take the lot that far in the automobile. How did the robbers know I had them? That's what I can't understand."

"Did you write to Denver that you had secured the pearls and were going to carry them with you as far as Albuquerque?" asked Matt.

"Yes, but——"

"Then the news must have got out there. I happen to know that a Denver man was back of the plot to steal the gems. There was a leak in your Denver office. How long did you stay in Yuma, Mr. Tomlinson?"

"Ten days."

"That gave the Denver man plenty of time to lay his plans. You bought the pearls from a Mexican who came to Yuma from La Paz?"

"Where did you find that out?"

"Is it the truth?"

"Yes."

"Well, that shows there must have been some one in your Denver office who told what you were doing. The information I just gave you came from Denver Denny, the fellow you wounded at the time of the robbery."

"By gad, I'll overhaul my office force from the errand-boy up, as soon as I get back home!"

"A good idea."

"That robbery was the most barefaced proceeding you ever heard of! Gregory and I were spinning along toward Ash Fork, never dreaming of trouble, when we were halted by a big stone in the road. Gregory got out and had just rolled the stone out of the way, when four men rushed at us. I had a revolver and I blazed away. One of the villains staggered—but he couldn't have been very badly hurt, for he pulled himself together and came at me. Two of them laid hold of Gregory, and two laid hold of me; then one of them—the fellow I wounded—stayed with the car while the other three took Gregory and me to that wretched hut. If I live, I'll make every one of those men answer for what they've done! How such a robbery could take place, on a public road, in broad day, is something I can't——"

Tomlinson's rambling remarks were interrupted by a sound that brought Matt's heart into his throat. Two revolver-shots, in quick succession, came from the west road!

That meant that Carl saw trouble of some sort coming the way of the red car.

"Run!" yelled Matt, dropping the revolver and grabbing Tomlinson by the arm: "you've got to run! Catch hold of him on the other side, Gregory. You'll be captured again if we don't hike out of this in short order."

Gregory was a younger man than Tomlinson and had withstood their recent physical discomforts much better. He and Matt, between them, contrived to rush the Denver man toward the road.

They did not have much farther to go, and when they broke through the little gap Carl greeted them with a wild shout:

"Der odder car! It vas coming, Matt, coming like a house afire!"