DOWN THE MOUNTAIN.
"Dat engine o' deirs went wrong just at de right time t' save our
bacon, Matt," said Josh.
Matt tossed a look backward. The runabout was at a stop, and Brisco was
on the ground, tinkering frantically.
"If he knows what to do," said Matt, "he'll be able to come on again.
But he'll have more trouble; and he'll continue to have trouble until
he takes time to overhaul his fuel-tank."
"What did yous do?" asked the boy.
"Mixed a handful of sand with his gasoline."
"W'en?"
"While we were hung up in front of those rocks Spangler had laid for
us."
"Didn't dat geezer see yous?"
"I got out of the way before Brisco showed up; and Spangler, at the
time, was away looking for the man in the notch."
"Chee, but you're a wonder! Motor Matt heads de percession an' carries
de banner! Yous t'ought o' all dat while I was hustlin' t' git behind
dem rocks! Did yous t'ink we was goin' t' have a race?"
"I didn't know but we might. Anyhow, I thought it good policy to fix
the machine so it wouldn't be reliable. What's the news from the rear,
Josh?"
"Brisco is gittin' back in his seat."
"Is he coming on?"
"Dat's wot."
"Fast as ever?"
"I don't see no diff'rence in de runnin'."
"Well, something is sure to go wrong, just as it did before. One grain
of sand clogged the needle-valve, Josh, and there's a thousand more
grains to come down the supply-pipe. Face around a minute. The road
forks here. Which one shall we take? Do you remember coming this way?"
The boy flopped around in his seat. The Red Flier was rushing toward a
place where the road forked. Both roads were bordered by rocky walls,
and both had the appearance of being equally well traveled--which
wasn't saying much for the travel, at that.
"I don't remember nuttin'," answered the boy, "bein' scart stiff all de
w'ile I was in de runabout. I'd say go t' de right. Dat's always a good
t'ing t' do."
"If we had the least notion which way Fairview lay we could shape our
course a little better. But we don't know, so we'll take chances and go
to the right."
There was a slowing of speed while Matt made the turn. For a long
distance this fork was a straightaway stretch and fairly level. Matt
and Josh were congratulating themselves on the fact that they had made
a fortunate choice, when suddenly they whirled out on a vista that
surprised them.
At the end of the straightaway stretch, a sudden angle brought the
side of a steep mountain under the boy's eyes. The road could be
seen clinging to the mountain's side, describing horseshoe after
horseshoe--edging its way between dizzy chasms and high cliffs.
"Wow!" gasped Josh, and collapsed in his seat. "Right here's w'ere we
fall off de eart'."
Matt took another look behind. The runabout, with the stern, relentless
face of Brisco over the wheel, was surging toward them.
"Here we go!" called Matt. "Hang on, Josh!"
"I'm glued! Yous can't shake me!"
The boy was game, and Matt flung the Red Flier at the mountainside and
down the ribbon of treacherous road.
There were places where a cliff overhung the trail, and the wheels on
the left almost scraped the rocks, while those on the right barely
tracked on the brink of a gulf.
The boy's face went white, but his eyes glimmered brightly. He looked
back from time to time and saw the runabout sliding after them.
A quick fear had rushed to Matt's brain. Oddly enough, it was not a
fear for his own safety, for he knew the Red Flier and knew what he
could do with it; but the runabout! If that trickle of sand cut off the
power and caused the machine to slew ever so slightly, it would go over
the chasm's edge and carry Brisco and Spangler with it!
The world would have been better off, perhaps, if such a mishap
had come to pass; but Matt did not want it that way. His own
instrumentality in the matter would have been too hideously clear.
And yet, if something did not happen to the runabout, the machine might
collide with the Red Flier and drive it over the brink.
Matt knew he must keep ahead. Never had he driven more masterfully than
then. His nerves were steady, his brain alert, and every inch of that
curving, treacherous down grade was covered by his eyes.
It was more like falling down a hill than riding down. The Red Flier
quivered like a thing of life, seeming to realize what was expected of
it, and responding nobly.
Far off, over the level plain at the mountain's foot, could be seen the
little cluster of houses that represented Fairview. It glowed in the
morning sun like a toy village on a toy map.
As the road curved, struck a short straightaway, then curved again, the
town swept vividly into view and again as quickly vanished.
At the most desperate part of the trail a rock had crumbled from the
wall and rolled to the edge of the chasm. There it lay, almost under
the nose of the rushing car.
The boy cast a despairing look into Motor Matt's set, determined face.
All he saw was a swift gleam of the gray eyes.
Crash!
The car, skilfully guided so that it touched the inward side of the
boulder, forced it from the edge and sent it bounding and smashing
downward into the gulf.
A sharp breath tore through the boy's lips. Confidence again took
possession of him. After that escape, what difficulty could come up
that Motor Matt was not able to conquer?
Matt seemed to be made of steel. With one foot on the brake and both
hands on the wheel, he kept rigidly to his work.
"How're they making it behind, Josh?" he called.
The boy knelt in his seat and looked back up the steep incline.
Fortune was riding with Brisco that day. But for that he must have been
hurled from the trail in a dozen places.
Driving a car was comparatively new work for him, and the chances are
that never before had he been on such a dangerous piece of road. Yet he
was naturally a man of iron nerve, and would not hold back where Motor
Matt led.
Spangler, from his appearance, was as frightened a man as there ever
was in Arizona. A gray pallor had spread over his face, and his eyes
were fairly popping from his head. Gripping his seat with both hands,
he braced himself with his feet against the forward dip of the car.
"Dey're slidin' after us, cull," reported the boy.
"Gaining?"
"Dat's wot, but not like dey did on de level road."
"The foot of the mountain is just ahead of us. Can we get there before
they overtake us?"
"Well, mebby we kin, but I wish de foot o' de mountain was half a mile
nearer dan wot it is."
Facing about in his seat, Josh looked at the foot of the mountain for
himself.
They were dropping toward it swiftly. There were no more
curves--nothing but a straight fall, a shoot between bordering rocks
and then a cheerful reach of road over the plain.
"We're in luck t' git out o' dis widout a broken neck," said Josh.
"Chee, but dat level place looks good t' me."
"The Flier's a dandy car!" declared Matt.
"She's got a dandy driver, an' dat's no dream. W'ere'd we been widout
Motor Matt at de steerin'-wheel? Yous is a four-time winner, an' dere's
odders dat'll hear me say it."
"The runabout will be hot after us as soon as we hit the level ground
again."
"Dey'll never ketch us, cull. I don't care how hot dey come, wit' yous
handlin' de Flier."
With a final spurt the red car rushed through the rocks, and, for the
first time since it had taken that up-and-down trail, both ends were on
a level.
As they glided out onto the plain, Matt cast a look backward. There was
a feeling of relief came over him at sight of the runabout charging
through the rocks at the mountain's foot.
But, as he looked, and just as the runabout was on the point of
striking level ground, there was a jerk to the left, a crash, and a
sudden stop.
Brisco pitched forward over the wheel, shot clear past the hood, and
doubled up and rolled along the stony trail.
Spangler went out on the left side, ricochetting into the air and
turning a couple of grotesque somersaults. Like Brisco, when he
dropped, he lay still.
A sharp breath escaped Matt's lips. Turning the Red Flier, he started
back until he had come almost upon the silent form of Brisco; then he
brought the Flier to a halt and jumped out.
"Chee, Moses!" muttered Josh, awed by the abrupt termination of the
chase. "Do yous t'ink dem guys is killed, Matt?"
"That's what we've got to find out," flung back Matt, hurrying to
Brisco and kneeling down beside him.
Human enmity seemed a paltry thing to Matt as his hand went groping
over Brisco's breast, feeling for the heart-beats. A thrill of
satisfaction shot through him as he found that Brisco was alive.
Hurrying on to Spangler, he was immensely relieved to find that worthy
sitting up in the road and drawing a hand over his dazed eyes.
"What--what happened?" faltered Spangler.
"Nothing to what's going to happen now, Spangler," answered Matt, and
picked up the second and last revolver which the ruffian had had about
him.
"There ought to be some ropes in the runabout, Josh," called Matt. "Go
and get them."