THE BLUEBELL.

The two boys got out of sight in a swale before the cowboy returned from the spring. Looking back, just before they dropped from view of the jacal, they were unable to see anything of the man.

Taking Matt's arm, Clipperton drew him along the swale, then over the western bank of it and into a shallow valley between two low hills.

"It's nearly two o'clock," Clipperton was muttering. "Twenty miles—four o'clock. We'll get a horse at the Bluebell. You can make it if you ride."

"Where did you come from, Clipperton?" asked Matt.

"Phoenix."

"How did you come?"

"On foot. Didn't dare look for a horse. Afraid they'd find out and stop me."

Matt halted and laid a hand on Clipperton's arm.

"Did you come out here, all the way from Phoenix, on foot, to help me?" he asked quietly.

"Why not?" flamed Clipperton. "I got you into the trouble. I was afraid you might think I knew what Perry and the rest were doing. I didn't. It was a put-up job, but I didn't know until too late. I—I could kill Perry! He told me to write that letter. Said he'd keep his hands off and stay away. You saw how he did it."

Swirling hate poured out with the words. Clipperton was breathing hard and talked in husky gasps.

"You were to do that mile race at two o'clock," said Matt.

"I did a twenty-mile race; somewhat earlier."

"Why, that race was as good as a hundred dollars to you!"

"If I win this it'll please me more."

"You've won it, Clip," said Matt, in a low tone. "You've got me away from that hut."

"I haven't won it!" cried Clipperton. "It's won when you face the starter on your wheel and cut out Perry. The coyote!"

"You've found out about Perry?"

Clipperton muttered something in a savage undertone. Matt put out his hand and Clipperton clasped it quickly.

"I guess we understand each other, Clip," said Matt. "How far away is the Bluebell?"

"At the end of this valley. Hurry. You've got to get to Phoenix in time."

"I don't see how I can, even with a horse."

"You can. You must!"

They made their way down the valley as fast as they could, Matt's benumbed limbs slowly regaining their strength, and Clipperton keeping up by sheer force of will. From time to time they gazed behind them, but they could see nothing of the cowboy. If he was looking for them he was evidently searching in the wrong direction.

"How did you find out where I had been taken, Clip?" queried Matt.

"Tubbits Drake knew," replied Clipperton. "I went to him early this morning. I made him tell me. Then I started. It was a long twenty miles. I had to wait at the hut until the man went away. If he hadn't gone when he did he would have had to fight. Perry, Drake, Spangler and three men furnished by Hawley captured you. They were hiding by the canal all the time, Hawley's motor-car brought you out here. Hawley wasn't with it. He sent his driver. I was a fool. But I know a few things now."

By the time Clipperton had finished, he and Matt had come to the end of the valley. Rounding the base of one of the hills an ore-dump broke into view, surmounted by a derrick. From the top of the derrick swung one of the aerial wires of Chub's wireless telegraph-line.

A few yards from the foot of the derrick was a small house. A man in his shirt-sleeves sat tilted back in a chair in the shade. He was watching the two boys curiously as they hastened toward him.

"Hello, neighbors!" he called, when they had come close. "Kind of queer to see a couple of lads loose in these hills on foot. What are you—— Jumping Jerushy!" the man suddenly exclaimed. "If it ain't Matt King! Why, I thought——"

"I know what you thought, Delray," said Matt hurriedly. "I was abducted from Phoenix last night in order to keep me out of the race. I was being held a prisoner——"

"At Pedro Garcia's old jacal," interpolated Clipperton.

"And Clip, here, got me away," went on Matt. "I have to get to Phoenix by four o'clock."

Delray whistled. "Mebby you could do it if you had wings, Matt," said he. "Why, it's nearly two o'clock, and there's twenty long miles between here and Phoenix. That's a deuce of a note. Abducted by Hawley! Thunder! What did he do that for?"

"Let him take your horse," cried Clipperton, sinking down in the shade. "He can make it!"

"Horse?" echoed Delray. "I haven't got a horse. There isn't a horse this side of the Arizona Canal, eight miles away. Give it up, Matt. There'll be bicycle-races after you're dead and gone."

A half-stifled groan broke from Clipperton's lips. Matt and Delray, looking toward him, saw that he had his face in his hands.

"What's the matter with him, Matt?" asked Delray.

"I've lost the race for King," said Clipperton, lifting his haggard face. "I did it! But I got to him as quick as I could. Perry—I—I——" The words died huskily away on Clipperton's lips and he finished by shaking his fist menacingly in the direction of Phoenix.

Matt walked over to Clipperton.

"You didn't lose the race for me, Clip," said he, "and I want you to understand that here and now. You were no more to blame for it than the man in the moon. I ought to have——"

Matt halted abruptly. In front of him was the derrick, the lightning-rod point of Chub's aerial wire glistening in the sun. He whirled and jumped like a madman for Delray.

"Great CÆsar's ghost!" cried Delray, "have you gone dippy, Matt?"

"Is that wireless apparatus working?" shouted Matt.

"It was, last night."

"If it's working now," went on Matt excitedly, "maybe I can put this trick through yet. Get at your key, Delray! Try and get Chub."

"What the blazes——" Delray stared. "Say, Matt, do you think I can send you through to Phoenix by wireless?"

"Get Chub!" yelled Matt. "Don't stand there like a stick, Delray. Get Chub, I tell you! I'll tell you what to say when you get him. There's a chance, a chance!"

While the dazed Delray went into the house and sat down at his sending-key, Matt hovered frantically around him. The minute Delray touched the key the Hertzian waves got busy, crackling and flashing between the two polished balls of the terminals.

"I don't know why you think I can get anybody in Phoenix this afternoon, Matt," complained Delray. "The whole town must have emptied itself into the park. It's a safe guess, anyhow, that Chub will be there."

Matt's heart went down into his shoes. He hadn't thought of that. Of course, Chub would be at the track! Chub was there to see Matt win the motor-cycle! Oh, the irony of fate!

Clipperton thrust his drawn face in at the door. His eyes glowed with a hope which was past his understanding.

Delray rattled the key and the flashes quivered back and forth between the balls, jumped off the lightning-rod tip at the top of the derrick and darted in every direction with the swiftness of thought.

Suddenly the sounder began to click. "What's this, what's this?" mumbled Delray, bending over the relay instrument and listening intently. Scarcely breathing, Matt and Clipperton kept their eyes on Delray's face. "Why, it's Susie McReady!" exclaimed Delray. "Matt King is missing—Chub and Perk at the park hunting for him—everybody in town hunting—Susie came back to the house to ask me to hunt—now, what do you think of that? Talk about luck! But what good is it going to do? That's what gets me."

"Tell Susie I'm here," said Matt; "tell her I was abducted from Phoenix last night to keep me out of the race; tell her to call up Major Woolford on the phone at the park; tell her to have the major lay quick hands on Ed Penny and send him along the Black CaÑon road on the Comet as fast as he can come; have Susie tell the major to tell Penny that everything depends on the record he makes between Phoenix and the Bluebell, and that I'll walk along the Black CaÑon road to meet him and save a little time. Shoot 'er through! Hustle, old chap."

"Oh, tell, tell, tell!" groaned Delray. "Why, you're talking like a house afire. Here goes."

Click, click, clickety-click, sang the key, the crackle of the spark keeping a merry accompaniment. Delray repeated the message. As he was finishing, Matt started for the door.

"Wait," called Delray, "here's an answer." The sounder began to click and then stopped dead. "No, there ain't," muttered Delray; "something's slipped a cog and the home-made machine is out of commission. Anyhow, Matt, she held together until we got your message through. Go it, and good luck to you!"

Matt was already through the door and striking a bee-line for the Black CaÑon road, which ran past the derrick. Clipperton had caught his second wind and was following him.