BRISK WORK AT DODGE CITY.

Matt and Carl had to change cars at a place called La Junta, and there was a tedious wait. In due course, however, they resumed their journey, slept out the night in a sleeping-car and got out at Dodge City for breakfast. The train halted for twenty minutes to give the passengers a chance to eat. This stop was to prove an exciting twenty minutes for Matt and Carl.

Just as they were moving with a crowd of other hungry passengers toward the door of the eating-house a shabby and seedy personage strolled out, chewing a toothpick.

Carl let off a whoop. "Slocum, py shinks!" he called.

Slocum gave a jump and started to run. Matt and Carl at once trailed after him.

The passengers on the station platform got out of the way and stood and gaped at the flight and pursuit. They could not understand what it all meant, of course, and, while it was sufficiently exciting to claim their attention, there was only twenty minutes allowed them for breakfast, and they could not waste much time.

When the shabby man, with the two boys hot after him, had vanished around the corner of the station-building, the passengers began filing into the eating-room.

To say that Matt was startled to catch a glimpse of Slocum would describe his feelings too mildly. If Slocum had taken an early train with the rest of the drivers, what was he doing there in Dodge City? He should have been several hours further along the road.

Matt was not looking for more trickery. The fact that Higgins had watched him and Carl in Denver, and had sent a message to Sercomb, was, of course, unknown to the young motorist. Had that point been brought to Matt's attention he might have suspected something underhand in this strange appearance of Slocum.

Slocum's legs were long and he was making good use of them. After whirling around the corner of the station, he set off across the tracks toward some trees and bushes that lined the edge of the switch-yard.

Matt and Carl were overhauling the rascal steadily, and were not more than a dozen feet behind him when he vanished into the bushes. Matt led Carl by a yard, and when Matt had crashed through the brush and into a little cleared space, Slocum was still out of sight.

Directly in front of Matt was a small tool-house such as a section-gang uses for storing tools and hand-cars. The door of the tool-house was swinging wide, and an open padlock hung in a staple at the edge of the opening.

As Matt stood for a second looking at the tool-house, he fancied he heard a stir inside the small building and a sound of whispering voices.

He felt sure that Slocum had gone into the tool-house, and that there was some one else there. The secrecy with which the quick whispering had been carried on aroused Matt's suspicions.

Had Slocum been informed in some manner that Matt and Carl were on their way East? And had he stopped off the other train to carry out some other treacherous scheme of Sercomb's?

It looked very much to Matt that this was the case, and as though Slocum had secured some one to help him. Slocum had made a bee-line for the tool-house, and it might be that he had had a confederate waiting for him there, and was intending to run the boys into some sort of a trap.

All this flashed through Motor Matt's brain in the space of a breath. By the time Carl came crashing to his side Matt had canvassed his suspicions and laid a counter-plan.

"Vere iss dot feller, Matt?" panted Carl.

"I think he's gone off through the brush," replied Matt.

"Nix, bard; I bed you dot he has gone indo der leedle house."

"We'll look in the brush first," returned Matt, giving Carl a significant glance and pushing him away toward the rear of the tool-shed.

Matt's talk was all for the benefit of those who might be listening. Carl could not understand his chum's tactics, but he understood very well that he had something important at the back of his head.

As Carl moved off around the rear of the tool-house, Matt proceeded quickly and softly toward the front. Close to the open door he paused.

"They'll get away from us, Ralph!" came to him in an excited whisper.

"No, they won't, Joe!" answered an equally guarded voice. "They'll look around toward the rear of the shed and then they'll come in here. Be ready to down 'em the minute they show up in the doorway. We'll fasten 'em in here and they won't be able to get out until night."

"But if we lose that train——" put in another voice, only to be interrupted by Sercomb's.

"Lose nothing, Balt! The train stops twenty minutes, and we'll get back to the station in good time."

"Gad," muttered the voice of Slocum, "Higgins gave us a hot tip. You ought to've seen those chaps when they set eyes on me. That Dutchman would have eaten me up if I'd let him get close enough."

"I knew they'd chase you," went on Sercomb.

"I don't think we're gaining anything, even at that," struck in the voice of Packard. "We jump off the other train and delay ourselves just to set King back a train."

"Trueman, of the Jarrot Automobile Company, has a car in the race and he's not satisfied with his driver. I don't want King to work in there, and I intend to see Trueman and put one of our boys in his car. If we'd stayed on that other train we'd have reached Ottawa in the night. On this train we'll reach our destination in the morning, and I'll have a chance at Trueman before King shows up. If——"

Matt overheard that much, and his astonishment can perhaps be imagined better than described. Sercomb was plotting, as usual, and not only was he in the tool-shed with Slocum, but Joe Mings and Harry Packard and Balt Finn were there as well.

The talk between the drivers came to a sudden close as Carl, impatient to find out what Matt was doing, ran around the other side of the shed.

Matt started to close the door. It was held open by a stone and resisted his efforts. While he was kicking away the stone those inside the shed scented trouble and made a break for the doorway.

"Don't let them get out, Carl!" shouted Matt. "Keep them in. They laid a trap for us, and we'll spring it on them!"

"Hoop-a-la!" cried Carl, striking out with his fists.

If there was one thing Carl Pretzel loved more than another it was a fight; and now there was not only a chance to have a brisk skirmish with the enemy, but also to turn the tables on them. The Dutch boy's heart was in his work, and he planted one effective blow after another, as fast as he could move his arms.

Matt jumped to his aid. Fists shot out of the doorway only to be countered and beaten back. The opening was wide enough for the passage of a hand-car, but not wide enough for all those in the shed to break through side by side.

Slocum, by the shift of circumstances, was juggled to the front of the struggling drivers. Matt grabbed him and hurled him against those behind. Sercomb and Packard tumbled to the floor with Slocum on top. This left Finn and Mings battling fiercely in the entrance.

Matt launched a blow, straight from the shoulder, that drove Mings back against the inner wall; then, as Carl sparred with Finn, Matt pulled the door toward him.

"Out of the way, Carl!" Matt shouted.

The Dutch boy slipped aside and Matt slammed the door shut in Finn's face. Finn began to push, calling on the rest of his comrades to bear a hand. Carl, while Matt was tinkering with the heavy hasp and padlock, threw his weight against the door on the outside. Another moment and the padlock was snapped into place, leaving those inside practically helpless.

"Cock-a-tootle-too!" crowed Carl. "How you like dot, you fellers? Dot's vonce, by chincher, you got more as you pargained for, hey? Meppy you vill findt oudt, vone oof tose tays, how Modor Matt does t'ings, yah, I bed you!"

"Let us out of here!" bellowed Sercomb, as frantic fists pounded on the door. "We want to go East on that train."

"So do we," answered Matt, "and you'd have kept us from it if you could. Turn about is fair play, Sercomb. I'll reach Ottawa in time to see this man Trueman, whom you were talking about. Much obliged for the tip. You fellows can follow on the train Carl and I would have had to take in case you had been successful and locked us in there."

"Let us out, King," bawled Mings, "or you'll be sorry you didn't! Take that from me!"

"I've taken a whole lot from you fellows already, Mings," answered Matt, "and I'm getting tired of it. If I can ever catch Slocum he'll tell all about that trickery of his in the Clifton Hotel, or he'll wish he had."

"Dot's righdt!" put in Carl. "You vas a lot oof schmard Alecs, und pooty kevick you vas going to findt oudt dot it don'd pay to act like vot you dit. Dere iss so many oof you dot you von't be lonesome in dere, und ven you come py Oddawa, Modor Matt und I vill meed you mit der pand. Ach, you vas a fine punch oof grafders!"

The door shook and shivered as those inside the shed hurled themselves against it; but it was strongly put together and the baffled drivers could not break it down or force it open.

Carl, shaking with enjoyment, stood off and watched the door bulge outward and rattle back into place.

Presently the attack ceased.

"Look here, King," called the breathless voice of Sercomb, "if you'll let us out of here we'll agree to quit bothering you. Ain't that fair enough?"

"I'm not making any terms with you, Sercomb," replied Matt. "You're too tricky to be trusted."

Just then the engine bell set up its clangor and, from the distance, came the warning "All aboard!" of the conductor.

"Dot means us, Matt!" cried Carl.

Turning away from the shed the boys dashed through the fringe of bushes and off across the tracks. As they bounded to the station platform the last car of the train was flickering past.

Carl gained the steps of the last car at a flying leap, and Matt was close behind him.

The train rolled eastward, and the boys, leaning across the hand-rail and breathing themselves, watched the little patch of brush and timber encircling the tool-shed fade from sight.

"Be jeerful, eferypody!" jubilated Carl. "Ve missed our preakfast, aber it vas vort' der brice. Hey, Matt?"