MART RAWLINS WEAKENS.

"Hello, Lorry!" said Rawlins, hesitating, just over the threshold, as though a little undecided as to how he would be received.

"Hello, Rawlins!" answered Lorry coldly. "You want to see Motor Matt?"

"That's why I came. I hope he isn't hurt very much?"

"There he is," said Lorry, pushing a chair up to the bed; "you can ask him about that for yourself."

McGlory, feeling sure that Merton was guiltily concerned in the fire, was far from amiably disposed toward such a close friend of Merton's as Rawlins. As Rawlins advanced to the bed the cowboy got up, turned his back, and looked out of a window.

"I'm sorry you had such a rough time of it, Motor Matt," said Rawlins, visibly embarrassed.

"I was in luck to get out of the scrape as well as I did," returned Matt. "You're a friend of Merton's?"

"I was. Early this morning we had a quarrel, so we're not quite so friendly. Have you any idea what caused the fire?"

"Yes," said Matt bluntly; "firebugs."

"You're positive of that?"

"My friend McGlory, there, was watching outside the boathouse. He was set upon by two negroes, knocked down, tied hand and foot, gagged and dragged off where he would not be in the way. Then the two scoundrels set fire to the building while Lorry, the Chinese boy, and I were sound asleep inside."

Something like trepidation crossed Mart Rawlins' face.

"McGlory is sure that the men were negroes who assaulted him?" queried Rawlins in a shaking voice.

"He's positive."

"Then," breathed Rawlins, as though to himself, "there's no doubt about it."

"No doubt about what?" demanded McGlory sharply, whirling away from the window.

"Why," was the answer, "that there was a conspiracy to destroy the boathouse and the Sprite, and that Ollie Merton was back of it."

Rawlins had paled, and he was nervous, but he spoke deliberately.

Matt, Lorry, and McGlory were surprised at the trend Rawlins' talk was taking. They were still a little bit suspicious of him, especially McGlory.

"What makes you think that?" asked Matt, eying his caller keenly.

"Did you lose a roll of drawings a few days ago?"

"Yes."

"And did you have a disagreement with the little negro called Pickerel Pete?"

"Yes."

"Well, Pete stole those drawings and took them to Merton. It was just after"—Rawlins flushed—"just after you were stopped in the woods by Merton and the rest of us, and ordered to quit helping Lorry. We had got back to Merton's house, and Pete came there with the roll of papers. Merton bought them from Pete, gave Pete five dollars, and asked him to come to see him Sunday afternoon at four o'clock—yesterday afternoon. Merton said he had a plan he was going to carry out that would make success sure for the Winnequa boat in the race. He wouldn't tell us what the plan was, but when I heard that the boathouse had been burned I went over to Merton's and had a talk with him. It wasn't a pleasant talk, and there was a coldness between Merton and me when I left."

"You think, then," said Matt, "that Merton hired Pete to get those negroes to set fire to the boathouse?"

"That's the way it looks to me. As a member of the Winnequa club, and a representative member, I won't stand for any such work. It's—it's unsportsman-like, to say the least."

"It's worse than that, Mart," frowned Lorry.

"It was unsportsman-like to stop Matt, drag him off into the woods, and try to bribe him to leave town, or to 'throw' the race, wasn't it?" cried McGlory scornfully.

Rawlins stirred uncomfortably.

"Certainly it was," he admitted.

"And yet you helped Merton in that!"

"Merton fooled me. He said Motor Matt was an unscrupulous adventurer, and a professional motorist, and that the good of the sport made it necessary for us to get him out of that race. He didn't say he was going to bribe him to 'throw' the race. I didn't know that offer was going to be made, and I think there were some others who didn't know it. If we could have hired Motor Matt to leave town, I'd have been willing. I've got up all the money I can spare on the race, and naturally I want our boat to win—but I won't stand for any unfair practices. Nor will the Winnequa Club, as a whole. We're game to let our boat face the start on its own merits. If we can't win by fair means, I want to lose my money."

Rawlins got up.

"That's all I came here for—to find out how you are, Motor Matt, and to let you know how I stand, and how the rest of the club stands. I have come out flat-footed, and for the good of motor boating in this section I hope you will not press this matter to its conclusion. We all know what that conclusion would mean. It would go hard with Merton, and there would be a scandal. In order to avoid the scandal, it may be necessary to spare Merton."

"Sufferin' hoodlums!" cried McGlory. "That's a nice way to tune up. Here's Merton, pulling off a raw deal, and coming within one of killing my two pards, say nothing of the way I was treated, and now you want him spared for the sake of avoiding a scandal!"

A silence followed this outburst.

When Rawlins continued, he turned and addressed himself to Matt.

"I think I know your calibre pretty well, Motor Matt," said he. "The way you turned down that bribe in the woods and declared that you'd stand by Lorry at all costs, showed us all you were the right sort. Of course, I can't presume to influence you; but, if you won't spare Merton on account of the scandal and the good of the sport, or on his own account, then think of his father and mother. They'll get back from abroad to-morrow morning in time for the race. That's all. I'd like to shake hands with you, if you don't mind."

Rawlins stepped closer to the bed.

"You'll have to take my left hand," laughed Matt. "The right's temporarily out of business. You're the clear quill, Rawlins," he added, as they shook hands, "and I'll take no steps against Merton, providing he acts on the square from now on. You can tell your club members that."

"Thank you. I half expected you'd say that."

"Will Merton be allowed to race the boat in the contest?" inquired Lorry.

"We can't very well avoid it. It's his boat, and it's the only entry on our side. He'll have to race her, with Halloran. The club will make that concession. After that—well, Merton will cease to act as commodore, and will no longer be a member of the club. Good-by, Motor Matt, and may the best boat win, no matter who's at the motor!"

As Rawlins went out, Ethel Lorry and her father stepped into the room. They had heard the loud voices, and inferring that Matt was able to receive company, had come upstairs.

"You'd hardly think there was a sick person up here," said Mr. Lorry, "from the talk that's been going on. How are you, my lad?" and he stepped toward Matt.

"Doing finely," said Matt.

"I'm glad," said Ethel, drawing close to the bed and slipping her arm through her father's.

"He's going to race the Sprite to-morrow, Uncle Dan," chirped McGlory.

"No!" exclaimed the astounded Mr. Lorry.

"Fact. You can't down him. He's in that race with only one hand—and the left, at that."

"It will be the death of you!" cried Ethel. "You mustn't think of it."

"You know, my boy," added Mr. Lorry gravely, "it won't do to take chances."

"I know that, sir," returned Matt, "but I'm as well as ever, barring my arm. I can't lie here and let the Sprite get beaten for lack of a man at the motor who understands her. I'd be in a bad way, for sure, if I had to do that."

"I think he's a bit flighty," grinned McGlory. "I reckon I can prove that by telling you what just happened."

"What happened?" and Mr. Lorry turned to face McGlory.

The cowboy repeated all that Rawlins had said, winding up with the promise Matt had made to spare Merton.

A soft light crept into Ethel's eyes.

"What else could you expect from Motor Matt?" she asked.

"I shall have to shake hands with you myself, Matt," said Mr. Lorry, taking Matt's left hand and pressing it cordially. "That was fine of you, but, as Ethel says, no more than we ought to expect. I hope you'll be able to drive the Sprite to victory, but you'll have to have less talk in the room and more rest if you're going to be able to take your place in the boat to-morrow. Come on, Ethel."

Mr. Lorry and his daughter left the room and Lorry and McGlory resumed their chairs, but gave over their conversation.

An hour later Matt called for something to eat, and a substantial meal was served to him, piping hot.

The doctor came while he was eating.

"Well," laughed the doctor, "I guess you'll do. Don't eat too much, that's all."

"He's got to corral enough ginger to get into that race to-morrow afternoon, doc," sang out the cowboy.

"He don't intend to try that, does he?" asked the doctor aghast.

"I've got to, doctor," said Matt.

"It may be," remarked the doctor, "that action is the sort of tonic you need. But, whatever you do, don't attempt to use that arm. That'll be about all. If you do get into the race, though, be sure and win. You see," he added whimsically, "I live on the Fourth Lake side of the town."