CLIP'S NOTE.
"Mighty unsociable, that feller," laughed the cowboy, staring after the
vanishing form of the half-breed. "Waal," he added, "it was wuth a heap
more'n a dollar ter hev him corral Ole Beeswax. You boys'll beat me
inter Phoenix, easy enough, but I got time ter jog along an' git thar
by three. I'm a powerful obliged ter ye fer what ye done, an' if ever
any o' ye need a friend, jest call on Josh Fresnay. So-long."
Chub and Clip had climbed back into the car. All the boys shouted their
good-bys to Fresnay, and, after Matt had "cranked up," the car sped
away in the direction of Phoenix.
Clip was silent and preoccupied, and Matt attended quietly to his work
of driving the car; but his thoughts were busy. While Welcome jabbered
in his usual strain, and Chub flung back an occasional answer, Matt's
mind circled about the half-breed and the note.
Matt had recognized the half-breed at the first glance. He was none
other than Pima Pete, and he was an uncle of Clip's. But, what was
infinitely worse, Pete had been a member of a gang of smugglers headed
by the notorious Dangerfield. With a few others, Pima Pete had escaped
at the time Dangerfield and most of his gang had been captured. A
reward of $1,000 each had been offered for the apprehension of every
member of the lawless outfit, and this offer still held good so far as
Pima Pete was concerned.
That note which had been smuggled into Clip's hand must have been of a
good deal of importance, or Pima Pete would not have run the risk of
capture in order to deliver it.
When the boys reached town, Clip got out of the car at the point
nearest the place where he roomed, in the Mexican quarter. Chub and
Welcome were still in the car, and Clip merely gave Matt a significant
look as he waved a good-by. Matt knew that Clip must be anxious to read
the note and find out what his uncle had to say to him.
Chub and Welcome got out in front of their home, and stood for a moment
beside the car.
"You've shut up like a clam, pard," remarked Chub, with a curious look
at Matt. "What's the matter? Anything gone crossways?"
"What makes you think that, Chub?" laughed Matt. "Don't a fellow ever
do a little head-work except when things go crossways?"
"Everybody ain't shootin' off his mouth the hull blessed time like you,
Chub," put in Welcome. "Whenever you talk it's like a lot o' words
rattlin' in a gourd. Now, Matt an' me's some diff'rent. By keepin' mum
fer a while, we allers hev somethin' to say whenever we talk."
"Police!" grinned Chub. "Why, Perk, you garrulous old parrot, you can
talk more and say less than any man in Arizona. When'll you be around
again, Matt?"
"Oh, I'll drop in on you to-morrow, some time. So-long!"
Matt returned the red roadster to McKibben's barn, where it was being
kept, cleaned it up a little and made sure that everything was all
right, then locked the barn door and left the key with Mrs. McKibben.
It was probably half-past four when he reached his boarding-place.
As soon as he had dusted his clothes, and paid his respects to the
wash-bowl, he dropped into a chair and fell to thinking, once more,
about Clip, Pima Pete, and the note.
He had an idea that that note meant trouble for Clip. It was a vague
sort of feeling, but strong enough to make Matt uncomfortable.
Pima Pete had been a lawbreaker, and there was a reward out for him.
Being a relative of Clip's, the half-breed was safe so far as Clip and
Matt were concerned, but if any one who knew Pima Pete happened to see
Clip with him, there might be no end of trouble.
Thoroughly dissatisfied with the course events were taking, and not a
little worried, Matt went down to supper and sat through a half hour of
incessant clatter from his landlady, Mrs. Spooner. When he got up from
the table he had decided to find Clip at once and get at the contents
of Pima Pete's note. He went to his room after his hat, and when he
opened the door there was Clip in a rocking-chair by the window. The
quarter-blood had slipped into the house and up-stairs to the room
while Matt had been eating his supper.
"Why, hello, old chap!" exclaimed Matt. "I was just thinking about
hunting you up."
"Hist!" warned Clip. "Not so loud, Matt. Maybe I shouldn't have come
here. But I felt as though I just _had_ to talk with you."
Matt was "stumped." Nevertheless, he was not slow in guessing that Pima
Pete's note had something to do with Clip's mysterious manner.
"What's wrong, Clip?" queried Matt, lowering his voice and setting a
chair closer to his chum.
"Matter enough. You saw what happened. When the cowboy got back his
horse, I mean."
"Pima Pete gave you a note."
"That's it. Not much gets away from you, Matt. I was afraid Chub and
Perkins might have seen it, too."
"They didn't. I could swear to that."
"You remember what Dangerfield said when he was captured? That there
was something he wanted you to do?"
Matt knitted his brows. He had not forgotten that.
"I remember it, Clip," said he; "and I remember, too, that I was to
hear about the work through Pima Pete."
"Well, Pima Pete came to me. We're of the same blood, as you know." As
usual, whenever he mentioned his mixed blood, a savage defiance blazed
in Clip's face. "I reckon that's why Pete came to me. It would be easy
for any one who knew him to give him away."
"I wouldn't do that--on your account, Clip."
"Sure you wouldn't. I know that. But Pima Pete don't. He saw us going
into the hills in the automobile. Then he wrote that note and waited
for us to come back. He didn't dare enter the town. And he was taking
chances, as it was. If that cowboy had happened to know him, Pete's
game would have been up."
"Did he tell you in the note about seeing us, and waiting for us to
come back, Clip?" asked Matt.
Clip nodded.
"Where's the note?"
"I burned it. Got to be on the safe side, Matt. Pima Pete's my uncle. I
can't take any chances. Are you willing to try what Dangerfield wants
done?"
"If it's honest work, and I can help anybody by doing it, yes. But
Dangerfield was a lawbreaker, and I'd have to know all about the
business before I took any hand in it."
"There's ten thousand dollars in gold buried in the hills. It's cached
near where Pete met us. Pete wants us to meet him out there to-night
and get the gold. It's Dangerfield's. Pete says Dangerfield earned it
honestly. Dangerfield's father is an old man, and lives in Emmetsburg,
Iowa. We're to send six thousand dollars to Emmetsburg, and Pete, and
you, and I are to divide the rest. That's the work."
Clip's keen eyes were fixed on Matt's troubled face. Matt was thinking
hard and did not answer.
"You don't like the work!" muttered Clip.
"I don't, and that's a fact, Clip," returned Matt. "That may be honest
money, but how do we know? Why didn't Dangerfield tell the sheriff and
let _him_ dig it up?"
"The sheriff would turn it over to the prosecuting attorney. The
government would confiscate it. You see, the federal lawyer would think
it money Dangerfield got for smuggling Chinamen over the border."
"Well," said Matt decisively, "if we fooled with that money we'd be apt
to get our fingers burned. Besides, it isn't a good thing to tangle up
with Pima Pete. He's better off, and so are we, if we keep apart."
A dark frown settled on Clip's swarthy face. For several minutes he
bent his head thoughtfully.
"Pete has to get his part of the money," said Clip finally. "He can't
get away to Mexico until he has it."
"If he knows where it is," suggested Matt, "he could take it all."
"Yes--if he was an out-and-out thief." Clip threw back his head and
squared his shoulders. "He didn't reckon there was any harm helping
Dangerfield run a few Chinks across the border. A whole lot of people
think the same way."
"That may be, Clip," answered Matt kindly, "but there's a law against
it, and Dangerfield and his men broke the law. That's put Dangerfield
in a hole, and it would put Pima Pete in a hole, too, if the officers
knew he was skulking around near Phoenix. Take my advice, Clip,"
Matt added earnestly, dropping a hand on his chum's knee. "Keep away
from Pete, just now. Let him dig up the gold and send some of it to
Emmetsburg. There's no need of ringing you and me in on the deal."
"You don't understand, Matt. Pete don't dare show himself anywhere. If
you and I don't mix up with that gold, nothing will be done with it."
Matt puzzled his brain over the problem for several minutes.
"I'll tell you, Clip," said he finally, "you meet your uncle to-night,
but do it carefully--understand? Be sure no one sees you. Let him tell
you right where the gold is, and let him take a thousand of it, if he
has to have it, and clear out. In two or three days, when your uncle
has had time to get into Mexico, I'll go to Governor Gaynor, lay the
whole matter before him, and ask his advice. If he says for us to do
what Dangerfield wants, we'll do it. That's the best course. But don't
you be with Pima Pete a minute longer than you have to."
Once more Clip bowed his head. While he was thinking the matter over a
rap fell on the door.
Starting up quickly, Clip laid a finger on his lips, moved softly
across the room and into a closet, pulling the door partly shut after
him.
All this secrecy of Clip's Matt did not think at all necessary; but
Clip was a queer fellow, although a fine one at heart, and doubly queer
whenever anything connected with his ancestry came up.
There was no time to argue with him, however, and Matt stepped to the
door and threw it open.
McKibben, the sheriff, stepped into the room.