CHAPTER XIII.

THE HUT IN THE HILLS.

The Red Flier made fine work of the climb, rounding the crest of the

gully-bank in excellent form. The road they were after lay in plain

sight, with smooth ground between.

"Which way now, Pringle?" asked Matt, when they had reached the trail.

"Turn to the right," answered Pringle. "You and your new partner are

in luck, Pretzel," he added, when the turn was made and the car was

skimming along toward the adobe hut and Tomlinson. "You'll cut a fine

large cake when you break in on Mr. Gotrocks and tell him he's saved,

and that you're prepared to hand him all the pearls in the bag. Wish I

had you for the next twenty-four hours, Dutch."

"Oof you hat blayed skevare mit me, Pringle," replied Carl, "you

vouldn't haf peen in sooch a mix. I alvays t'ought you vas a pad egg,

aber you know how to blay der panjo."

"Sure, and we make a good team. How'll it be if I meet you in

Brockville, after I get away, and we hit up Needles with the sketch?

All the stuff's at Needles."

"Say, I vouldn't haf nodding more to do mit you. I'm for Tenver so

kevick as I can ged dere."

"Well, be jeerful, be jeerful."

"Schust vatch my shmoke a leedle und see. Vill you send my shtuff py

Tenver?"

"I will, so help me!"

"You vill--I don'd t'ink. You check der trunk, hey?"

"Sure."

"Vere iss der check?"

"In my jeans. Going to frisk me for it?"

Carl pushed his hand into Pringle's trousers pocket, and dug up a brass

tag.

"Vell," said he, "you dit tell der trut'. I vill keep der sheck,

Pringle, und ven I got some time I vill sendt it on und have der

paggage come to me ad Tenver."

"What about my stuff? You ain't going to hog the whole business, are

you?"

"Vell, oof you know anypody in Tenver, I vill leaf your shtuff any

blace vat you say."

"Andy Hickman has a saloon there. Leave it with him. What's the use of

keeping me tied any longer? You might just as well take off the rope."

"Not until we see how we find things in the hut in the hills," said

Matt.

"Yah," agreed Carl, "meppy you vas sdringing us. How ve know dot undil

ve findt it oudt?"

"Have I strung you any, so far?" protested Pringle.

"It vas all righdt, so far, aber somet'ing mighdt come oop farder on.

Hey, Matt?"

"That's right, Carl," answered Matt. "We'll keep him a prisoner until

we find Tomlinson."

This road, like the one they had left, angled about through the hills.

They passed one vehicle--a buckboard with two passengers--going in the

other direction.

The horses attached to the buckboard were not used to automobiles, and

shied badly. Matt slowed to a stop while the driver of the team was

going past.

"Seen anything of another automobile, mister?" called Matt.

"Nary, I haven't," answered one of the men, "although I hear Lem

Nugent, o' Ash Fork, has been blowin' himself fer one o' the things."

The horses danced past on their hind legs, and Matt started up again.

"There's the Fork," announced Pringle, a few minutes later, nodding his

head toward the left. "This is as near as we come to the town."

They were forging along rising ground, just then, and the huddle of

buildings that represented the town lay below them, and about a mile

away.

"How far is the hut from here, Pringle?" asked Matt.

"Twenty-five miles, I should say, at a rough guess," was the answer.

"We'll cross the railroad in another mile, and after that you'd better

look for buzz-wagon tracks in the dust. If you see any, then you can

bank heavy that Hank and Spang are ahead of you."

"Couldn't they go the other road?"

"They could, but they wouldn't. They'd make a nice picture running

through town, Hank with a gun at the driver's head, wouldn't they? Nix.

They'll keep in the background as much as they can--and this road is

pretty well back. They don't want to be seen by anybody but us, just

now, Hank and Spang don't."

"Does this road run into the Ash Fork trail?"

"Yep--a mile t'other side of the hut. The hut's between the two roads,

close to this and not so close to the other. If the hut had been closer

to the other road, maybe Hank, Spang, and I would have heard Denny when

he cut loose from us with this car."

The Red Flier descended a slope just then, crossed the railroad-track,

and climbed another slope beyond.

Matt was worrying about the other car. There were no tracks in the

road, so it was certain the runabout hadn't passed that way as yet, but

there was plenty of time for it to reach the road and catch up with the

Red Flier.

The one thing to do was to travel at speed, forestalling possible

interference from Hank and Spang by getting well ahead of them.

During the rest of the trip, which Matt made at the top gait, no

travelers or vehicles were met. The twenty-five miles were covered in

thirty minutes, and when Pringle called on Matt to stop, he brought the

Red Flier to a standstill at a place where the hills rose steeply on

each side of the trail.

"Here we are," said Pringle.

"The hut is on the left side of the road?" queried Matt.

"Through that gouge," and Pringle, with a nod, indicated a break in the

hills. "Going to take me along?"

"I guess I can find the place, all right," answered Matt. "You can stay

here with Carl until I see if things are as you say."

"What if Hank and Spang come along?"

Matt turned to the Dutch boy.

"You have that revolver, Carl," said he, "and if you see the other car,

or hear it, fire a signal. I'll not be gone any longer than I can help."

"I vill keep a sharp lookoudt, you bed you," answered Carl, "und I vill

shoot oof I vant you. Mach schnell, Matt, for I haf der feeling in my

pones dot somet'ing iss going crossvays."

Without pausing for further talk, Matt ran into the passage between

the hills. A hundred feet carried him through it and out upon a little

plateau. Here there was a spring, a thicket of manzanita, and a small

ruin of a house. Opposite the point where Matt came upon the plateau

was another narrow valley, leading toward the east and apparently

communicating with the other road.

Hurrying to the house, Matt stepped through an unclosed breach in the

mud wall that had once served for a door. The gloomy interior blinded

him for a space and it was impossible for him to see any one.

"You scoundrel!" cried an impassioned voice. "Untie these ropes and let

us go at once. You will save yourself trouble if you do that, and give

me back that bag of pearls. There's law in this country yet, and I'll

make it my business to see that it reaches you."

Gradually, as Matt's eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he made out

the forms of two men seated on a bench along one of the walls.

"Are you Mr. Tomlinson, of Denver?" inquired Matt, stepping toward the

man who had spoken.

"My name, sir," was the haughty reply. "How long are you going to leave

us here, without a mouthful of food and no water to drink? By gad,

you'll suffer for this!"

"You're mistaken, Mr. Tomlinson," said the young motorist. "I'm not

one of the robbers, and had nothing to do with putting you here. By a

stroke of luck I have been able to recover your pearls and to find out

where you were. Your car is waiting in the west road, and I am here to

release you and take you to Ash Fork."

This startling news left Tomlinson speechless for a moment.

"You--you have come to release us?" he returned.

"Yes," and Matt, with an open knife in his hand, passed to the bench

and began severing the cords that held Tomlinson and his chauffeur to

the hard seat.

The prisoners had been in their cramped positions all night, and when

the ropes fell away, so numb were their limbs that they could hardly

hold themselves upright.

"Give us some water," begged Tomlinson.

There was a canteen lying on the floor. Matt picked it up, found that

it was full, and uncapped it and held it to Tomlinson's lips.

"The villains that brought us here," spoke up the chauffeur, "left that

canteen, but they never stopped to figure out how we were to get at it

with our hands tied."

"They were willing, Gregory," said Tomlinson, "to let us starve and

die, right here. I never thought a set of men could be such inhuman

wretches. But who are you, young man?"

"My name is King, Matt King," replied the youth.

"You say that by a stroke of luck you were able to get my pearls and

find out where I had been left? I wish you would explain how----"

"I haven't time to explain anything, just now, as we may be interfered

with by the robbers at any moment. They have stolen a fast motor-car

and are chasing us. If you and your chauffeur are able to walk, Mr.

Tomlinson, we'd better get to the west road as soon as we can. The

thieves----"

A noise at the door caused Matt to whirl in that direction. He was

astounded to see Spangler standing in the entrance.

Motor Matt's Mystery; or, Foiling a Secret Plot · 第 13 / 16 章