MATT WINS--AND LOSES.
Motor Matt had seven horses in the twin-cylinders to pit against that
one frantic animal that was slashing along the road toward the canal.
There was but one thought in his mind, and that was to spur the seven
horses into a speed that could overtake the one before it reached the
bridge and the water.
He had been racing for a fortune before, but it was for a human life
now. With keen, steady eyes he gaged the chances. The white horse was
thundering along in the middle of the road, with the scrap of rein
dangling on the left side of the bit. He aimed the _Comet_ to bring up
on the left side of the frightened beast.
He was half a minute, perhaps, in coming alongside the horse, and
during that brief interval he had a brief glimpse of the thrashing,
steel-shod heels. A heart's beat later he was abreast of the girl and
saw her white, fear-drawn face looking down at him. In another breath
he was close to the horse's head.
The time had come when Matt was to put forth his best effort, and
win or lose at a single throw of the die. If the horse got away from
him---- But he was not thinking of that; he was thinking how he could
best hold the animal and bring him to a stop.
The girl, far gone with fright, was swaying dangerously in the saddle.
"Steady!" cried Motor Matt, reaching for the head of the runaway horse.
His outstretched hand caught the piece of flying rein. It was his right
hand he had to use, and he doubled the rein about the palm twice. Then
a twist of the left handle-bar caused the _Comet_ to slow down, and he
pulled back on the bit.
The frenzied horse, however, was not to be stopped so easily. Lurching
ahead with a fresh leap, he dragged Matt from the machine, and carried
him, a dead weight, for a dozen yards.
Matt hung like grim death to the piece of rein, and his hundred and
thirty pounds finally brought the horse to a standstill. As Matt
floundered to his feet, the girl toppled into his arms--and the horse
jerked loose and went on.
But Matt was not concerned about the horse. The girl was saved, and
that was enough for him.
Dizzy and weak, he staggered with her to the roadside and laid her down
beside an irrigation-ditch. Hearing some one behind him, he turned and
saw a buckboard containing a man and woman. The man had halted the rig,
and was handing the reins to the woman. The woman was leaning from the
seat and peering anxiously at Matt and the girl over the side of the
vehicle. The man sprang down and hurried toward Matt.
"Finest thing I ever saw!" declared the man. "That girl might have
been killed if it hadn't been for you. Say, you're a plucky piece,
and----" The man stopped and stared. "Why, hello!" he went on. "You're
Motor Matt, the lad that won the bicycle-race at the park a few days
ago. Say, Malindy," he called to the woman, "this is Motor Matt.
You've heard about him. He's the boy that won the race from O'Day, of
Prescott."
"The young woman, Silas!" returned the woman. "Was she hurt?"
"She's only fainted, I think," said Matt.
"It's a wonder the fellow on that other machine wouldn't stop," growled
the man. "If he'd acted like he'd ought to, the horse wouldn't have run
off with the girl. What was the matter with him?"
"We were racing for the recorder's office," explained Matt. "We've both
got notices to file, and the one that gets there first----"
"Oh, ho! That's it, hey? And you thought more of saving the girl than
you did of beating him! Here, shake! It's sort of refreshing to meet a
boy like you. If your machine isn't busted, you hike right along, and
maybe you'll beat the other chap yet. We'll take care of the girl,
and see that she gets where she belongs in town. Hitch the horses,
Malindy," he added to the woman, "and come here and help."
Matt started off, limping as he went.
"Are you hurt?" shouted the man.
"Jolted up a little, that's all," answered Matt, stopping to pick up
his cap.
He was worrying about the _Comet_. Had he smashed it when the horse
jerked him out of the saddle?
By what seemed like a miracle, the motor-cycle had escaped injury. The
jar of its fall had closed the gasoline shut-off, and he picked the
machine out of the dust and once more got into the seat.
Was there any use in going on to the court-house, he was asking
himself. He felt more like going to his boarding-house and hunting for
a bottle of arnica.
Remembering that he had told Chub he wouldn't consider himself beaten
until the recorder had told him Perry had already filed Jacks' location
notice, he set the motor going and wheeled rapidly on toward Grand
Avenue.
He was about five minutes getting to the court-house. While he was
bracing the motor-cycle up against the steps at the entrance, Perry
came out of the building, followed by Dirk Hawley.
"Here's King," laughed Perry, "just a little bit late."
"Just a little," chuckled Hawley. "It won't do you any good to butt in
here, King."
"How do you know what I'm doing here?" demanded Matt.
"Oh, I'm a pretty fair guesser. Run along home, an' tell the McReadys
their little scheme wouldn't work."
Matt, however, climbed doggedly up the steps, entered the corridor, and
made for the place where location notices were filed.
"Was a location notice filed here just now for Jacks and Hawley?" he
asked of the clerk.
"Right you are; just about two minutes ago."
"Much obliged," said Matt. "That's all."
He went out and got on his machine, but instead of steering for Mrs.
Spooner's, he made for Chub McReady's. Susie was there, and he would
tell her the whole story. If he hadn't stopped to chase that runaway
horse, he would have been able to beat Perry to the court-house and so
save a fortune for his friends. They had to be told how he had failed
and why.
Welcome Perkins was smoking a pipe on the porch as Matt rode up. He
jumped excitedly to his feet when he saw who was coming.
"Howdy, pard!" he called. "Did you an' Chub do the trick? Did ye beat
out them villains, Jacks an' Hawley? Snakes alive, Matt, don't say ye
didn't! From the looks o' yer face, I'm argyin' ye've had bad luck. Oh,
ye ort to hev took me! Ye ort to hev let me take keer o' this."
Hearing Welcome's loud talk, Susie came out on the porch.
"Why, Matt!" she exclaimed. "Where's Mark? Didn't he come with you?"
Matt shook his head as he climbed up the steps.
"What's the matter with ye?" demanded Welcome. "I don't reckon I ever
seen ye quite so cut up afore, Matt. Somethin' must hev gone a hull lot
crossways to make _you_ pull sich a face."
"Nothing has happened to Mark, has there, Matt?" queried Susie
anxiously.
"A good many things have happened to both of us, Susie, since we left
here," said Matt; "but Chub's all right."
"You're kind of pale, Matt," went on Susie solicitously. "Here, take
this chair."
"What makes ye limp?" queried Welcome. "Hawley been roughin' things
up with ye? Shade o' Gallopin' Dick! I never felt so all-fired worked
up about anythin' as I do about that there 'strike' o' Jim's. Tell me
right out, Matt, hev ye saved the claim?"
"No," answered Matt heavily, as he sank into the chair, "we've lost
out--and it's my fault."
There followed a short silence, Welcome muttering and twisting at his
mustache, Susie peering keenly at Matt's pale face, and Matt staring at
the cottonwood-trees down by the town canal.
Susie was the first to speak. Stepping quietly to Matt's side, she laid
a small hand on his shoulder.
"You've lost out, Matt," said she, "and if it's your fault, as you say,
then there's a good reason _why_ you lost out. Money isn't everything
in this world."
"Mebby not," spoke up Welcome dryly, "but it sartinly buys a lot o
grub, an' clothes, an' critter comforts. The McReadys could stand a
few o' them same comforts, I reckon. Sometimes, gal, when I see how
ye're pinchin' along, an' Chub is hampered fer money to git things to
do his inventin' with, I vow I can't hardly keep from hikin' fer the
hills an holdin' up a few stages. It ain't right, I know, but the ole
lawless feelin' bubbles up mighty strong, oncet in a while. If you an'
Chub had waited an' asked fer my advice afore racin' off like ye done,
Matt, mebby ye'd be hevin' a diff'rent story ter tell. Howsumever, tell
the details. Ye lost, an' the biggest part o' the shock is over. The
McReadys'll continner ter struggle along on bacon an' spuds, instid,
as I had fondly hoped, bein' promoted to canned stuff. What ye hangin'
fire fer, Matt? Go on an'----"
"You don't stop talking long enough to give him a chance, Welcome,"
said Susie.
"That's right," snorted Welcome; "blame _me_! Blame the ole ex-pirate
o' the plains fer every bloomin' thing that happens. I'm expectin'
ye'll be sayin' next that it's my fault kase Matt an Chub couldn't beat
out Jacks an' Hawley. Don't fergit, young lady, I'm grub-staked fer
the hills, an'----"
"Dry up!" cried Matt, and he said it so suddenly, and in such a tone
that the old man keeled over against one of the porch-posts. Matt
smiled a little. "You're doing all the talking, Welcome," he added,
"and not saying anything, and here I sit with something to say and not
able to get a word in edgeways."
"Git in yer word," snapped Welcome, stamping his wooden pin on the
porch, "git in a dozen words, or a millyun of 'em. 'Pears like ye kin
_talk_ a heap even if ye can't _do_ anythin'."
Welcome glared, began filling his pipe, and sat down on the top step of
the porch. Before Matt could begin, Tom Clipperton hurried in at the
gate and ran along the walk and up the steps. He was covered with dust,
and was plainly just in from a hard, trying ride, but there was a glow
in his black eyes as he reached over and grabbed Matt's hand.
"Great! Everybody's talking about it. I'm proud of you."
"Somethin' more we can't understand," growled Welcome. "What's great?
What's everybody talkin' about? Where'd you come from, anyway?"
"Matt was racing for town with Perry," went on Clipperton. "Perry had
Penny's motor-cycle. Matt had the _Comet_. Matt was overhauling Perry
at every jump. He'd have beat him in and filed the McReady location
before Perry filed Jacks' and Hawley's. But Matt stopped to catch a
horse that was running away with a girl. Perry's machine scared the
horse. Catch _him_ stopping! That's why Motor Matt lost out. Claim or
no claim, everybody's proud of Matt."
"Did you do _that_, Matt?" asked Susie, a soft light in her wide, brown
eyes as she looked at him.
"Why, yes," said Matt. "I couldn't get out of it."
"I'm proud of you, too," said Susie quietly. "What you did was worth a
dozen claims."
"Money's money," growled old Welcome. "I ain't got no use fer
dad-binged sentiment when it's so hard fer the McReadys to scrub along."
"There's more to it," said Clipperton. "I've got something else to
tell."
"What's that, Clip?" queried Matt.
"The girl you saved was Edith Hawley. Dirk Hawley's daughter."
Matt sank back in his chair, dumfounded.