SIWASH SHOWS HIS TEETH--AND HIS HEELS.
Black's astonishment was great when Motor Matt reappeared at the front
of the building and leaped into the car.
"Hustle for the Oberon road, Mr. Black!" Matt cried.
"What's to pay?" asked Black as McGlory flung himself into the tonneau.
"You remember that wagon we passed?" asked Matt.
"Of course, but----"
"Well, the aëroplane is aboard the wagon."
"Great Cæsar!" Black was already on the ground, cranking up. "How did
that happen?" he asked, getting back into the car and turning it the
other way.
When they were well started, Matt explained about the telegram received
by the post trader.
"It's easy to understand what happened," said Matt. "Murgatroyd's plan
was to send Siwash Charley here after the aëroplane. If Siwash had had
all night and part of to-morrow to work in, he and his pals would have
got away with the flying machine in spite of us. But Siwash had to make
another move when he saw us on the road. It was a clever move, too,
although it only won out by a scratch. Siwash went on to Oberon and
sent that message, signing Mrs. Traquair's name to it. If we hadn't had
so many breakdowns, we'd have reached the post trader's before his man
got away with the aëroplane."
"Well," declared Black, "we can overhaul the wagon long before it gets
to Oberon. If Siwash Charley had used his head a little more, he'd have
known there wasn't one chance in ten of this move of his succeeding.
"And to think of us sailin' right past that wagon," muttered McGlory,
"and even slowing up so as not to scare the horses! Funny how things
will turn out sometimes."
The Chinese boy had been using his eyes and ears a great deal more
than his tongue. But his emotions, at every stage of that ride from
Jamestown, had changed with Matt's and McGlory's. Now Ping was all
chagrin, and a wild desire to "push on the reins" and overhaul Jake.
The road was fairly good until the automobile reached the forks; after
that, it ran into hilly country where there was considerable sand.
Black forced the car all he could, but the poor speed it developed
filled the impatient boys with dismay and anxiety.
"We'll never overtake that wagon in a thousand years, at this gait,"
fumed McGlory.
"You forget, Joe," answered Matt, "that if we're going slow, the wagon
is going a lot slower."
"That's the talk," said Black. "We'll come up with the wagon several
miles this side of Oberon."
As the car ground through the sand, and chugged up the hills, the boys
kept a sharp watch ahead. Dawn brightened in the east, and the gray
streamers crept steadily toward the zenith.
"Five o'clock," said Matt, looking at his watch. "The sun will be up in
half an hour."
"Precious little I care for that," chuckled Black. "There's Jake!"
The car had topped a hill which gave its passengers a long view out
over the level prairie. Far away in the distance the dim gray light
showed the boys a dark blot on the plain. It was impossible to tell
much about the blot, at that range, but there could be no doubt
concerning it. Surely it was the wagon; it could be nothing else.
"Jake must have punctured a tire," observed McGlory humorously. "What
has he stopped for?"
"Possibly he stopped to breathe his horses," suggested Black. "We'll
eat up the ground, now, for the road is on the level, and there's less
sand."
Black let the car out. As he and the boys came closer and closer, a
startling scene slowly unfolded before their eyes.
The wagon was at a standstill, just as the cowboy had said, and beside
it was a motor car. Four or five figures could be seen moving around in
the vicinity of the wagon. Abruptly these figures hunched together, and
stood quietly.
"It's the other automobile," said Black between his teeth. "Siwash
Charley and his pals came out from Oberon to meet Jake."
"They've got together and are looking this way," breathed McGlory.
"Mebbyso they makee shoot," chattered Ping.
"Shall we go on?" queried Black. "It's for you to say, Motor Matt. I
don't think Siwash will dare rough things up so close to the fort, and
in broad day."
"Yes," said Matt grimly, "we've got to go on. For all we know,
Murgatroyd may have told Siwash to destroy the aëroplane. In fact, that
may be what he's doing, now. Go on, Mr. Black, and go with a rush."
The boys fell silent as the car bounded on along the road. All of them
felt the danger of their position, but neither McGlory, Black, nor Ping
would have thought of asking Matt to turn back.
In a few moments the boys were so close they could see the guns which
Siwash Charley and his friends were holding in their hands. Matt,
however, had more concern for the bulky load in the wagon than for the
guns. So far as he could see, the load was intact, and had not been
tampered with.
The wagon was facing toward Oberon, and the car--drawn up alongside
the wagon--was pointed toward Fort Totten. Several yards in front of
the car stood Siwash Charley, and two other men, who looked fully as
villainous. All of these three had rifles.
Jake was standing up in the front part of the wagon, hanging to the
reins with one hand and looking back. The driver of the automobile was
leaning against the front of the car, watching passively for what was
to come. An atmosphere of ugly foreboding hovered over the scene as
Black stopped his car within a dozen yards of Siwash Charley and his
two pals.
"That's erbout as fur as we reckoned we'd let ye come," shouted Siwash
Charley. "If ye'd got hyer ten minutes later, ye'd hev found the flyin'
machine scattered all over the perary."
"Do you mean to say," cried Matt, standing up in the car, "that you
were going to wreck the aëroplane?"
"That's what," answered Siwash Charley, "an' we're goin' ter do it,
yet. Ye needn't think that yer comin' will make any diff'rence. I told
you cubs I'd git even with ye fer what ye done, but when I showed my
teeth ye didn't allow I'd bite. I'm showin' my fangs ag'in, an' this
time thar's goin' ter be somethin' doin'."
"Siwash Charley," said Matt, "you don't mean to say that a trifling
disagreement, like the one we had in Jamestown, is enough to make you
destroy that aëroplane?"
"I reckon ye don't know me, Motor Matt," blustered Siwash. "I allers
make it a p'int ter saw off even, an' I reckon I kin squar' my account
with you a heap better by bustin' up the flyin' machine than in any
other way. I'll give ye two minutes ter turn that thar machine o' yourn
and take the back track."
Simultaneously with the words, Siwash lifted his rifle to his shoulder,
and pointed it directly at Matt.
The king of the motor boys did not stir, but his gray eyes snapped
dangerously as they looked into the eyes gleaming along the barrel of
the gun.
"You're not going to do any more shooting, Siwash Charley," said Matt,
his voice steady. "You took two shots at us last night, and if either
one of them had struck me, or any of my friends, you and Murgatroyd
would have paid dearly for it."
The mention of Murgatroyd caused Siwash to drop his gun suddenly.
"Murgatroyd hasn't got a thing ter do with this," he roared. "It's my
own affair I'm settlin'."
"Murgatroyd has got everything to do with this!" retorted Matt. "He got
that car for you, and sent you out of Jamestown last night. You hoped
to reach the fort ahead of us--and you'd certainly have done so if we'd
waited until this morning and taken the train. If you make any trouble
for me here, Murgatroyd will be arrested in Jamestown just as quick
as a message can be wired to the police. And you'll make trouble for
yourself, too, for you played a trick in getting that aëroplane off the
government reservation. You can show your teeth as much as you please,
but if you try to bite you'll regret it."
"I'm done chinnin' with you!" whopped Siwash Charley, once more
bringing his gun to his shoulder. "Turn that ottermobill t'other way,
an' hike out o' this. Ye got a minute left."
Black got out of the machine, and walked around to the crank.
"Leave the crank alone, Black," ordered Matt. "That scoundrel's a
coward, and he doesn't dare to shoot."
Black hesitated.
"Better do as he says, pard," observed McGlory, climbing over the back
of the seat and ranging himself shoulder to shoulder with Matt.
The cowboy's words were addressed to Black. The latter retreated
from the front of the machine, and stood at the roadside, watching
developments anxiously.
It was a situation of the gravest peril, but Matt could not go away and
leave the aëroplane to be wrecked.
"Are ye goin'?" yelled Siwash furiously. "If ye think I dasn't shoot,
I'll show ye I ain't afeared o' nothin'."
"Put down that gun!" ordered Matt.
The scoundrel's finger flexed on the trigger. In another instant the
trigger would have been pressed. But something happened. Jake, standing
in the front of the wagon, whirled a long blacksnake whip about his
head by the lash. Suddenly he let it go, and the weighted handle shot
through the air, and struck Siwash Charley's fated right arm. The end
of the whip handle landed at about the place where McGlory's missile
had struck, the day before.
With a swirling bellow of pain, Siwash dropped the rifle and staggered
back, clasping his right forearm with his left hand.
He swore terribly, but the torrent of profanity was cut short by one of
his pals.
"Sojers!" cried the man, sweeping Siwash Charley's gun off the ground.
"Hustle out o' this, or we're done fer!"
"Swatties!" jubilated McGlory, waving his hat. "Speak to me about this!"
Matt faced the other way. There, sure enough, were half a dozen mounted
troopers galloping toward the scene.
The pop of the other car's motor could be heard, and when Matt looked
around, once more, Siwash Charley and his comrades were kicking up the
dust in the direction of Oberon.
"Siwash Charley showed his teeth," laughed Black, immensely relieved,
"and now he's showing his heels. Motor Matt," he added soberly, "I
wouldn't have been in your shoes, a moment ago, for all the money in
the United States Treasury!"
The king of the motor boys did not hear the last remark. He had leaped
down from the car, and had run forward to the wagon, where he was
reaching up and shaking hands with Jake.