FOUL PLAY.
"I don't b'leeve in gamblin'," whispered Welcome, "an' bettin' is next
door to knockin' a human down an' goin' through his pockets; but that's
what Dirk Hawley is doin'--bettin' right an' left two to one, three to
one, any odds he can git, that"--and here Welcome grabbed Matt's arm in
a convulsive grip and brought his face close to Matt's--"O'Day'll win
that race to-morrer! Ain't that scandalous? An' him a Phoenix man!"
"Of course Hawley will bet," said Matt, "that's his business. I don't
believe in it, and I know Major Woolworth don't, but you can't keep
it from figuring in athletic contests like those to-morrow. The major
plays the game for the game itself, while Hawley plays it for what he
can get out of it."
"That ain't all," breathed Welcome. "If Hawley was bound to bet I
thought he ort to be bettin' on the best man--which is you. My, my, but
I got in a twitter over the way Hawley was actin', an' I a'most hate to
tell ye how I cut loose, Matt."
"Tell it, Welcome," urged Matt; "I'll try not to be shocked."
"Well," and the old man gulped on the words as though they came hard,
"I met that Spangler boy on the dark street alongside Hawley's place
an'--an'--well, I was so chuck full o' that ole pirate feelin' I jest
pulled Lucretia Borgia, pushed 'er in his face, an' axed him real cross
what Hawley was doin', an' why. The Spangler boy gits the shakes right
off, an' his teeth chatters as he unloads the news. Perry is bettin' on
O'Day himself, an' Hawley has fixed it so's you won't race, Matt, an'
Perry's agreed to throw the race. That's what the Spangler boy told me,
an' he got down on his knees an' begged me not to let Hawley or Perry
know where I got the infermation. What d'ye think o' that?"
Matt was startled. He might easily have inferred that Welcome was
making a mountain out of a mole-hill, as he was too apt to do, but for
the fact that there was evidence to support Welcome's story.
Hawley had tried to get Matt out of town so he would not take part
in the race. This, of course, was to throw the Phoenix chances of
winning into Perry's hands, and thus make sure that O'Day would win.
Perry's training had been only a "bluff" in order to make Phoenix
people believe that he was preparing to do his best in case he had the
opportunity to race with O'Day.
The whole contemptible plot drifted through Matt's brain. The one thing
that puzzled him was how Hawley had planned to keep him out of the
race. Here it was almost the eleventh hour and Hawley had not yet made
any move to keep Matt off the track--excepting, of course, that offer
of a $500 bribe.
"Somethin' has got to be did!" declared Welcome in an explosive
whisper. "It's up to you, pard."
"Look here, Welcome," said Matt earnestly, "you leave this whole thing
to me, and don't breathe a whisper of what you have found out to any
one, not even to Chub. I'll do everything that's necessary."
"But, say----"
"Not a word. Go on into the house, calm your turbulent spirit and let
me handle the difficulty. I'm going to some place now, and can't stop
here any longer. Mum it is, mind!" and Matt hurried on to the canal.
Just below the bridge he waited until he heard the _pat_, _pat_ of
Welcome's wooden pin on the McReady front walk, then he turned to the
left, vaulted over a fence and started along the canal through the
cottonwood-trees.
Suddenly he paused, an idea plunging lightninglike through his brain.
Was that letter of Tom Clipperton's merely a lure? Had Clipperton
written it for the purpose of getting him into the hands of a gang of
roughs who would so handle him that he would be a candidate for the
hospital rather than the track on the following day?
Standing there on the canal-bank, with the moonlight sifting through
the cottonwood branches in silver patches, Matt King did some hard
thinking.
He had always entertained a certain amount of respect for Tom
Clipperton. He believed that Clipperton was square, and that there were
some things he would not do even while under the influence of Dace
Perry--and this in spite of what had happened at the try-out.
Matt would have welcomed the chance to make Clipperton his friend, for
he believed there was more real manhood in the quarter-blood than in
Perry and all the rest of his followers put together. The question with
Matt now was, should he carry his trust in Clipperton to the limit, and
go on to the appointed place where he expected to find him alone?
Matt King was absolutely fearless. Whenever he believed in a thing
he always had the courage of his convictions. It was so now. Having
reached a decision, he continued on through the moonlight. As he
stepped into the small open space where the clash had occurred two
weeks before, a form untangled itself from the shadow of the trees and
came toward him. It was Clipperton.
"You've come," said Clipperton, in a voice of satisfaction. "I didn't
know whether you would or not. Thought you mightn't have the nerve.
Throw off your coat."
"Don't be in a rush, Clipperton," answered Matt. "I'm going to give you
all the satisfaction you want before we leave here, but I'd like to
talk a little before we get busy."
"What's the good of talk? Either you're going to get a good licking or
I am. Let's see which."
"We'll see which in about two minutes. When we faced each other in this
place nearly two weeks ago, you came here with Perry. I told all of
you why Perry came----"
"Perry told us, too. I'm taking Perry's word, not yours."
"Of course," said Matt dryly. "Perry stands pretty high with you now,
but there's going to be a change. You must know, Clipperton, that I
have faith in you or I wouldn't be here to-night. It would be easy for
you to have a gang in ambush and beat me up so I wouldn't be able to
leave my bed for a week----"
A snarl rushed from Clipperton's lips. "If you think I'm enough of an
Indian to do that----"
"I don't."
"Didn't I trust you, too? You could have brought McReady along. Are you
going to strip?" There was angry impatience in Clipperton's voice.
"There was a mistake about that rock," Matt went on coolly. "It wasn't
thrown at you, but at Perry."
"Perry says different. That you threw it at me."
"Perry is careless with the truth. Before we begin, let me give you
your rabbit's foot. If you ever needed it, you're going to need it now."
Matt held out his hand. Clipperton said something and recoiled a step;
then, slowly, he advanced and took the luck-bringer from Matt's fingers.
"Where'd you get this?" asked Clipperton.
"It was found under the grand stand where you dropped it when you fired
at my wheel."
Clipperton was silent, standing rigid and erect in the moonlight. There
was a queer gleam in his eyes as he fixed them on Matt.
"How many have you told that to?" he demanded.
"Not one. If I had, you wouldn't be in that mile run to-morrow."
As Matt finished speaking Clipperton leaped forward abruptly. "Look
out!" he called.
Thinking Clipperton was going to attack him, Matt squared away and put
up his hands. At that moment he was seized from behind and hurled to
the ground.
"Stand off!" he heard Clipperton yell furiously. "He's here to fight
me! What does this----"
"Shut up, you fool!" threatened a voice, and was followed by a rush of
feet in Clipperton's direction.
Matt was struggling with all his might, but there were four boys
crushing him down and strangling him to prevent outcry. Who the boys
were he could not see, as there were handkerchief masks over their
faces.
"Quick!" muttered a voice. "Where's that rope?"
Matt was turned roughly on his face, several hands fumbling at his
wrists and ankles and at least one pressing a cloth, soaked with some
drug, to his nostrils.
Presently, as in a dream, he felt himself lifted and borne hurriedly
away. His senses were rapidly leaving him, and he had no idea as to
what direction he was being taken. There was a mumble of voices in
his ears and sounds of stumbling feet. Presently he was lifted and
crumpled into a cushioned seat. A _chug chug_ of a starting engine
came faintly to his ears, and he felt a swift forward movement of the
seat on which he was lying. The cloth was still covering his face and
stifling him. Then, a moment more, everything became a blank.