HELD AT BAY.
"Don't worry about your father, Chub," said Matt. "Hawley will steal
this claim if he can, but it's a cinch he'll do it in such a way the
law can't get a hold on him. Your father has been trapped in some
way, in order to get him off the claim so Jacks could put up his own
location notice. You can be sure, though, that Jacks hasn't done
anything very desperate. Brace up, old chap!"
"I can't," groaned Chub. "It's back to the woods for me. The gimp has
all been taken out of me. Everybody in Phoenix always has a joke to
crack at the McReadys. They call dad a 'rainbow-chaser,' and say he
never can find any pay-rock the way he potters around. And now he's
lost this chance! Maybe we'll never get another."
"Look here, Chub," said Matt, walking over to his chum and pulling him
to his feet, "you're not a quitter and never have been. Don't try to be
one now. Pull yourself together and face the music. _There's a chance
yet!_ But you're not going to help that chance any by acting like this."
"Chance?" repeated Chub dully, lifting his hopeless, freckled face to
Matt's.
"Yes. You've got two location notices. Fill 'em out. Tack one on that
board in place of the one you just pulled down, and we'll hustle the
other one to the recorder's office in Phoenix."
"It's too late, I tell you!" insisted Chub. "Don't you understand
what's been done? Jacks tacked his own notice up, and Perry is already
on the way to Phoenix with a duplicate."
"Perry hadn't started, up to the time we got here," pursued Matt
quickly. "If he had started, he'd have had to pass us. But suppose he
did; suppose he has two hours the start of us--why, he's riding a horse
that has already done twenty-five miles to-day, and a _motor-cycle can
beat him out_!"
Matt's hopefulness and splendid confidence electrified Chub.
"You're a chum worth having if any one asks you," he burst out. "You're
right, Matt; there is a chance yet, and this is no time to pull off
any baby-act. I was rattled, that's all. The idea that a fortune had
side-stepped the McReadys had got onto my nerves. Give me a pencil.
Hanged if I don't jump dad's claim myself, just to save it from Jacks
and Hawley."
Chub was now all energy and determination. Sitting down on the rocks
once more, he took two folded blanks from his pocket and laid them over
a smooth, flat stone in front of him.
"We'll call this claim the 'Make or Break,'" he went on, taking the
pencil from Matt and beginning to fill in the blank spaces; "it's in
the Winnifred Mining District, and it's located by Mark McReady."
"Hold up, Chub," interposed Matt, "before you write your name down as
the locator. You're several years this side of twenty-one. Would that
make any difference?"
"It might," said Chub thoughtfully. "It'll be safer to put in dad's
name, and then we'll be sure not to get stung. I'll fill out the two of
them; then, while I'm tacking one to the board, you can take the other
and make a getaway for Phoenix."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm goin' to hang around here an' look for dad. You'll make a quicker
run to town than you would if I was along with that one-cylinder
machine, anyhow."
Matt, whose mind was busy with the conversation he and Chub had
overheard between Jacks and Bisbee, evolved a sudden idea.
"Is there a mine around here called the Santa Maria?" he asked.
"Seems to me I've heard of an old, played-out proposition by that
name," answered Chub. "Why?"
"Do you remember what Bisbee said to Jacks while they were coming along
the pack-trail? '_I can tell what we done at the old Santa Maria._'
Those were his words, Chub, and I've got a hunch that that's the place
to go and look for your father."
"Bully!" said Chub. "You've got more horse-sense in a minute, Matt
King, than Reddy McReady has in a year. Get ready to hike, old chap.
I'll have this for you in about a minute."
"I'll go over to the spring and get a drink," answered Matt, "and then
I'll turn the _Comet_ loose."
The spring was some little distance away from the center monument where
Chub was doing his writing. Matt hurried toward it, gave old Baldy a
friendly slap as he passed him, and then went down on his knees at the
edge of the rocky pool.
Matt was feeling tolerably easy in his mind. He knew what the _Comet_
could do, and in order to help his friends, the McReadys, he would make
the miles spin out from under the pneumatic tires as they had never
done before.
It is usually at just such a time as that, when one feels as though
he is about to accomplish something really worth while, that the
unexpected bobs up to play hob with all his well-laid plans.
While Matt was on his knees, refreshing himself with the cool
spring-water, a wild yell came from Chub. Matt was on his feet in a
jiffy, and whirled just in time to see Chub take a header from the rock
pile.
He must have finished filling out the notices and climbed to the top
of the center monument to tack one of them to the board, when the
unexpected arrived.
Matt saw Jacks on top of the stone heap, and it was he who had given
Chub the shove that landed him on his hands and knees at the bottom of
the pile. Chub got up angrily, and gathered in a scrap of paper that
had dropped beside him; then he turned and faced the prospector, who
was roaring and shaking his fist.
"What d'ye mean, ye red-headed whelp, by tamperin' with my location
notice? Tryin' ter jump this here claim, hey? Waal, you scatter, an' do
it quick! If ye don't, I'll kick ye clean off'n the map!"
Jacks was not the only enemy that had come to work havoc with the plans
of Matt and Chub. Bisbee was there, also, and so--to Matt's intense
amazement--was Dace Perry.
Perry was standing beside a saddle-horse. The animal had been ridden
hard and was plainly far gone with fatigue.
Jacks and Bisbee, it now seemed to Matt, had gone off somewhere among
the rocks to meet Perry. Jacks probably had pitched a camp near-by,
where he had stayed while watching Chub's father; and, naturally, it
would be to this camp that Perry would go to meet the ruffian. Having
joined forces, all three of the plotters had advanced covertly upon
Matt and Chub.
Matt ran forward, to place himself shoulder to shoulder with Chub.
Perry saw him coming, and called Bisbee's attention to him.
"You stay whar ye aire!" yelled Bisbee.
As he gave the warning he lifted his hand, and Matt saw the sun glimmer
on a piece of blued steel.
"Git over thar ter whar yer friend is," ordered Jacks, from the top of
the stone pile. "We mean bizness right from the drop o' the hat, young
feller, an' if that red skelp o' your'n is of any valley to ye, ye'll
jump mighty prompt whenever I tune up!"
Chub held his ground, however, and Matt continued to come on.
"You're a pack of thieves," clamored Chub, "that's what you are! You're
trying to steal this claim away from my father, but we're going to fool
you."
"Ye're McReady's son, aire ye?" yelped Jacks. "Waal, now, McReady tried
ter steal this claim away from me, an' when I git back, along comes you
an' makes a similar kind o' break. Git away from here! My mad's up, an'
I'm li'ble ter do ye damage. What's that ye got in yer hand? Grab it
away from him, Bisbee, then kick him off'n the claim."
Bisbee executed a rush in Chub's direction, but Matt was close enough
by then to push out a foot and throw the ruffian heavily.
Bisbee, swearing furiously, arose to his knees and leveled the weapon
he still clutched in his fingers. Before he could use it, Jacks had
scrambled down from the rock pile and caught his wrist.
"None o' that, Bisbee!" said Jacks. "So long as the young whelps don't
try ter interfere with us."
Matt and Chub ran back a few steps.
"It's the location notice, Matt," Chub whispered, "that I wanted you to
take to town."
"Give it here, Chub," returned Matt, and took the paper and thrust it
into the breast of his leather coat.
"It's a location notice!" sang out Perry. "I heard McReady tell King it
was. Better take it away from him."
"I know a trick wuth two o' that," laughed Jacks hoarsely. "Kin you
ride one o' them new-fangled bicycles, Perry?"
"Yes," replied Perry.
"Then pick out the best 'un an' ride fer Phoenix with that notice o'
mine."
Perry gave an exultant laugh and jumped for the _Comet_. Matt started
forward.
"Keep away from that machine, Perry!" he cried.
"Draw a bead on him, Bisbee," said Jacks. "If he tries ter keep Perry
from gittin' away, you know what ter do."
The gleaming weapon arose to a level with Bisbee's wicked little eyes,
and Matt halted uncertainly. The pounding of the _Comet's_ motor was
already in his ears, and Perry was starting for the pack-trail.
While Matt stood there, wondering what he could possibly do, the
_Comet_ did something it had never done before. With a wheezy sputter,
it stopped dead, refusing to answer the frantic twists Perry gave the
handle-bars.
"Thought ye said ye could run it?" scoffed Jacks.
"Something's loose or broken," replied Perry, leaping from the saddle
and letting the machine drop. "The other belongs to Ed Penny and I know
it better. I'll take that."
A few moments later he was on the other motor-cycle and scurrying
toward the trail. Jacks turned on Matt and Chub with a taunting laugh.
"I reckon you won't file no location notice ahead o' Jacks an' Hawley
_this_ trip!" he yelled.