MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING
ADVENTURE
MOTOR
FICTION
NO. 4
MAR. 20, 1909
FIVE
CENTS
MOTOR MATT'S
RACE
THE LAST FLIGHT
OF THE COMET
_By STANLEY R. MATTHEWS_
[Illustration: "I've got it, pard!" shouted Chub, snatching the letter
from Motor Matt's fingers.]
_STREET & SMITH,
PUBLISHERS,
NEW YORK._
MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION
_Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered according to
Act of Congress in the year 1909, in the Office of the Librarian of
Congress, Washington, D. C., by_ STREET & SMITH, _79-89 Seventh Avenue,
New York, N. Y._
No. 4. NEW YORK, March 20, 1909. Price Five Cents.
MOTOR MATT'S RACE
OR,
THE LAST FLIGHT OF THE _COMET_.
By the author of "MOTOR MATT."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. TROUBLE ON THE ROAD.
CHAPTER II. THE STAMPEDE.
CHAPTER III. CLIP'S NOTE.
CHAPTER IV. M'KIBBEN'S TIP.
CHAPTER V. A VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCES.
CHAPTER VI. THE PRIDE OF TOM CLIPPERTON.
CHAPTER VII. LAYING PLANS.
CHAPTER VIII. THE RIFLED CACHE.
CHAPTER IX. THE BREAK IN THE ROAD.
CHAPTER X. PRESCOTT.
CHAPTER XI. MATT MAKES A NEW MOVE.
CHAPTER XII. THE OLD HOPEWELL TUNNEL.
CHAPTER XIII. QUICK WORK.
CHAPTER XIV. STEAM VERSUS GASOLINE.
CHAPTER XV. IN COURT.
CHAPTER XVI. CONCLUSION.
THE TENNIS-GROUND MYSTERY.
MAKE QUEER CATCHES AT CAPE COD.
COLD FIRE.
CHARACTERS THAT APPEAR IN THIS STORY.
=Matt King=, concerning whom there has always been a mystery--a lad
of splendid athletic abilities, and never-failing nerve, who has won
for himself, among the boys of the Western town, the popular name of
"Mile-a-minute Matt."
=Chub McReady=, sometimes called plain "Reddy," for short, on account
of his fiery "thatch"--a chum of Matt, with a streak of genius for
inventing things that often land the bold experimenter in trouble.
=Welcome Perkins=, a one-legged wanderer who lives with Chub and his
sister while their father prospects for gold--Welcome is really a
man of peace, yet he delights to imagine himself a "terror," and is
forever boasting about being a "reformed road-agent."
=Tom Clipperton=, known generally as "Clip," a quarter-blood, who is
very sensitive about his Indian ancestry.
=McKibben=, the sheriff who has both nerve and intelligence.
=Fresnay=, a cowboy who performs some mighty queer stunts.
=Pima Pete=, an Indian to whom Clip is related.
=Hogan=, }
=Leffingwell=, } two deputy sheriffs.
=Short=, a lawyer.
=Burke=, sheriff of an adjoining county.
=Jack Moody=, an engineer friend of Chub.
CHAPTER I.
TROUBLE ON THE ROAD.
"Ye're afeared! Yah, that's what ye are! Motor Matt's scared, an' I
never thought ye was afeared o' nothin'. Go ahead! I dare ye!"
An automobile--a high-powered roadster--was nosing along through the
hills a dozen miles out of the city of Phoenix. The vehicle had the
usual two seats in front and a rumble-seat behind--places for three,
but there were four piled aboard.
Matt King was in the driver's seat, of course, and equally, of course,
he had to have the whole seat to himself. On his left were Chub McReady
and Tom Clipperton, sitting sideways and wedged into their places like
sardines in a can. In the rumble behind was the gentleman with the
wooden leg--Welcome Perkins, the "reformed road-agent."
Matt was giving his friends a ride. The red roadster, in which they
were taking the spin, was an unclaimed car at present in the custody
of McKibben, the sheriff. It had been used for lawless work by its
original owners, and had fallen into the hands of the sheriff, who was
holding it in the hope that the criminals would come forward and claim
it.[A]
[A] See MOTOR MATT WEEKLY, No. 3, "Motor Matt's 'Century' Run; or, The
Governor's Courier."
McKibben and Motor Matt were the best of friends, and McKibben had told
Matt to take the red roadster out for "exercise" whenever he felt like
it. Directly after dinner, that day, they had started from the McReady
home in Phoenix. It was now about half-past one, and they were jogging
at a leisurely pace through the foot-hills.
Welcome, on account of his wooden leg and the necessity of having
plenty of room, had been given the rumble-seat. He was standing up most
of the time, however, leaning over the back of the seat in front of
him, and telling Motor Matt how to drive the car.
That was the third time the old man had ever been in an automobile, but
to hear him talk you'd have thought there wasn't anything about the
machine that was new to him. His constant clamor was for more speed,
and Matt had no intention of taking chances with a borrowed car when a
leisurely pace was entirely satisfactory to himself and his two chums,
Clip and Chub.
"Oh, slush!" grunted Chub, as Welcome leaned forward and dared Motor
Matt to "hit er up." "You'd be scared to death, Welcome, if Matt put on
full speed and hit only a high place here and there. Sit down an' shut
up, or we'll drop you into the road. I wouldn't mind having that seat
of yours myself; eh, Clip?"
"Free kentry, ain't it?" snapped Welcome. "You ain't got no call ter
sot down on me, Chub McReady, if I want to talk. Go on," he added to
Matt; "pull the plug out o' the carburetter an' hit the magneto a lick
jest fer luck."
This was a sample of Welcome's knowledge. Chub let off a delighted yell.
"Yes," he laughed, "an' while you're about it, Matt, strip the
planetary transmission an' short-circuit the spark-plug. Give Welcome
all he wants! Make him sit down, hang on with both hands and bite hard
on his store-teeth."
"When you're running a car that don't belong to you, fellows," said
Matt, "it's best to be on the safe side."
"Sure," agreed Clip. "We're going fast enough. No need to rush things."
"Ye're all afeared!" taunted Welcome. "Snakes alive, I could walk a
heap faster'n what we're goin'. D'ruther walk, enough sight, if ye
ain't goin' any faster'n this. This here ottermobill is an ole turtle.
I hadn't ort ter brag about it, but when I was young an' lawless, I was
that swift I could hold up a stage, then ride twenty miles an' hold up
another, an' clean up the operation complete inside of an hour."
"It wasn't much of a day for hold-ups, either," spoke up Chub gravely.
"Anyways, that's what I done, Smarty," snorted Welcome, "but I didn't
use no ottermobill--jest a plain hoss with four legs."
"Must have had six legs," said Clip. "Couldn't have gone that fast on a
horse with only four."
"Now _you_ butt in," snarled Welcome. "Goin' to put the clutch on the
cylinders, Matt," he added, "an' advance the spark a couple o' feet? If
y'ain't, I'm goin' to git out an' walk home. It's only five hours till
supper, an' we must be all o' twelve miles from town."
"You see, Welcome," explained Matt, with a wink at Chub and Clip, "it
wouldn't do to put the clutch on the cylinders, for I'd strip the gear;
and if I advanced the spark more'n a foot I'd burn out the carburetter."
"D'ye reckon I didn't know that?" demanded Welcome indignantly. "Why,
I kin fergit more about these here ottermobill's in a minit than some
fellers knows in a year. But, say! What's that thing off to the side o'
the road? Looks like a Gila monster."
All three of the boys turned their eyes swiftly to the roadside. The
next instant Welcome had leaned far over, gripped the long lever at
Matt's side and shoved it as far as he could.
They had been on the low gear; that put them on the high with a jump,
and the red roadster flung madly ahead.
Matt shifted his eyes from the side of the road just in time to see
Welcome sail out of the rumble, turn a half somersault and land,
astonished, in a sitting posture in the road.
Both Chub and Clip had had a scare, the sudden plunge of the machine
having made them grab each other, and they only missed going over the
side by a hair's breadth.
As quickly as he could, Matt brought the lever to an upright position
and pressed the primary foot-brake.
"The old freak!" shouted Chub, as the car came to a halt. "He came
within one of putting the lot of us overboard. If he had two good legs,
I'm a farmer if we wouldn't make him walk back to town for that!"
"If he don't agree to sit quiet in the rumble and enjoy the scenery,"
said Matt, "we'll make him walk, anyway. I won't allow any one to mix
up with the machinery as long as I'm doing the driving."
Welcome must have received quite a jolt. For a second or two he acted
as though he were dazed; then he slowly gathered in his hat, got
upright and shook his fist at those in the car.
"Dad-bing!" he yelled. "Ye done it a-purpose, ye know ye did."
"Well, what do you think of that!" muttered Chub.
"Ye jest coaxed me out in that ole buzz-wagon ter hev fun with me,"
ranted Welcome. "Wonder ye didn't break my neck, 'r somethin'. I
hit the trail harder'n a brick house, an' if I wasn't as springy as
injy-rubber I'd hev been scattered all around here like a Chinese
puzzle."
"Come on, Welcome!" called Matt. "But you've got to keep still and keep
away from the machinery if you want to ride with us."
"Wouldn't ride in that ole cross between a kitchen stove an' a hay-rack
fer a hunderd dollars a minit!" fumed Welcome. "I've stood all I'm
a-goin' to. Ye've stirred up my lawlessness a-plenty, an' I'm goin' to
hide out beside the road an' hold up the Montezuma stage when it comes
through. Ye'll hear about it to-night, in town, an' then ye'll be sorry
ye treated me like ye done. If ye got bizness any place else, hit yer
ole gasoline-tank a welt an' don't let me detain ye a minit."
Rubbing the small of his back and muttering to himself, the old man
started along the road in the direction of town.
"Let him walk a spell," said Chub in a low tone. "He wants us to coax
him to get back in; let's make him think we're taking him at his word."
"All right," laughed Matt, who knew the eccentric old man as well as
anybody, "we'll lag along into the hills for a mile or two, and then
come back. I guess Welcome will be glad enough to get in by that time."
Chub got out and scrambled into the rumble. The machine took the spark
without cranking and the red roadster started off.
"So-long, Perk!" shouted Chub hilariously, standing up in the rumble
and waving his hand. "Tell Susie, when you get home, that we'll
straggle in by supper-time."
The old man never looked around, but the way he stabbed the ground with
his wooden pin showed how he felt.
Perhaps half a mile from the place where Welcome had left the car the
boys met a horseman riding at speed in the direction of town. The man
drew rein for an instant.
"Turn around!" he yelled; "p'int the other way! Can't ye hear 'em.
Thar's a stampede on, an' a thousand head o' cattle aire tearin' this
way like an express-train! Listen! If ye don't hike, they'll run right
over ye!"
Startled exclamations escaped the boys. The cowboy's manner, quite as
much as his words, aroused their alarm.
The trail, for several miles in that particular part of the hills, was
walled in on both sides by high, steep ground. This made a sort of
chute of the road, so that those in charge of the cattle would not be
able to get ahead of them and turn them.
Having given his warning and done what he could, the cowboy used his
spurs and dashed on. At that moment a rumble of falling hoofs reached
the ears of the boys, accompanied by the _click, click_ of knocking
horns and a frenzied bellowing.
"Turn 'er, quick!" whooped Chub.
But the command was unnecessary. Motor Matt with a firm hand and a
steady brain, was already manipulating the red roadster, backing and
forging ahead in order to get faced the other way in the cramped space.
Meanwhile the ominous sounds, which came from around the base of a hill
where the road described a sharp bend, had been growing in volume.
Just as the roadster jumped away on the back stretch the cattle began
pouring around the foot of the hill.