MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING
ADVENTURE
MOTOR
FICTION
NO. 3
MAR. 13, 1909
FIVE
CENTS
MOTOR MATT'S
CENTURY RUN
OR THE GOVERNOR'S
COURIER
[Illustration: "Take him, Bolivar!" yelled the man, and Motor Matt was
brought suddenly face to face with unexpected peril.]
BY
STANLEY R. MATTHEWS
STREET & SMITH,
PUBLISHERS,
NEW YORK.
MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION
_Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered according to
Act of Congress in the year 1909, in the Office of the Librarian of
Congress, Washington, D. C., by_ STREET & SMITH, _79-89 Seventh Avenue,
New York, N. Y._
No. 3. NEW YORK, March 13, 1909. Price Five Cents.
Motor Matt's "Century" Run;
OR,
THE GOVERNOR'S COURIER.
By the author of "MOTOR MATT."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. WELCOME TAKES A SUDDEN DROP.
CHAPTER II. A QUEER SITUATION.
CHAPTER III. "RAGS."
CHAPTER IV. A DANGEROUS MISSION.
CHAPTER V. THE RED ROADSTER.
CHAPTER VI. SURMOUNTING THE DIFFICULTY.
CHAPTER VII. SMOKE-SIGNALS.
CHAPTER VIII. ON THE DIVIDE.
CHAPTER IX. A RUSE THAT WON.
CHAPTER X. AT POTTER'S GAP.
CHAPTER XI. JOE BASCOMB.
CHAPTER XII. BOLIVAR TURNS UP.
CHAPTER XIII. THE RED ROADSTER AGAIN.
CHAPTER XIV. ON TO PHOENIX!
CHAPTER XV. THE END OF THE MYSTERY.
CHAPTER XVI. MATT REPORTS TO THE GOVERNOR.
ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS REWARD.
CHARACTERS THAT APPEAR IN THIS STORY.
=Matt King=, concerning whom there has always been a mystery--a lad
of splendid athletic abilities, and never-failing nerve, who has won
for himself, among the boys of the Western town, the popular name of
"Mile-a-minute Matt."
=Chub McReady=, sometimes called plain "Reddy," for short, on account
of his fiery "thatch"--a chum of Matt, with a streak of genius for
inventing things that often land the bold experimenter in trouble.
=Welcome Perkins=, a one-legged wanderer who lives with Chub and his
sister while their father prospects for gold--Welcome is really a
man of peace, yet he delights to imagine himself a "terror," and is
forever boasting about being a "reformed road-agent."
=McKibben=, the sheriff who has both nerve and intelligence.
=Juan Morisco=, a Mexican of low degree, and a rascal as well.
=Tom Clipperton=, known generally as "Clip," a quarter-blood, who is
very sensitive about his Indian ancestry.
=The Governor=, head of the State, and a friend of Matt.
=Gregory=, a rancher.
=Dangerfield=, the leader of the smugglers; who has another name.
=Burke=, another sheriff, who lands his man.
"=Rags=," a little girl waif whom Matt befriends, to his profit later.
CHAPTER I.
WELCOME TAKES A SUDDEN DROP.
"Ready, Perk?"
"Hold up there, Chub! Don't ye git in sich a tarnal hurry. What am I
goin' to do with this here rope?"
"Why, cast it off, of course. How can you expect to fly with the rope
holdin' you back?"
"Waal, now, wait; le's understand this thing. It's my idee, ain't it?"
"Sure. You drew the plans an' I put the machine together."
"If any picters is published in the papers, mine goes in bigger'n
yours, don't it?"
"That's all to the good, Perk. When the reporters write this up, you'll
be the king-pin. The invention is yours, and all I did was to put it
together. But you're a pretty old man to try it out, Perk. You'd better
let me take the first spin."
"Bein' the inventor, I reckon I got a right to show off a little. Purty
nigh all my life I been a hootin', tootin' disturber o' the peace,
committin' depperdations as makes me blush to think of; but right
here is where I do somethin' fer civilization an' progress, which'll
go a good ways to'rds makin' up fer the past. I'm plumb hungry, Chub,
to hear folks say: 'That there flyin' machine is the biggest thing
o' the twentieth century, an' Welcome Perkins done it. He used to
be a howlin', cut-an'-slash desperado in his younger days, but now
he's turned over a new leaf, an' is devotin' his shinin' abilities to
forwardin' the cause o' progress as much as he used to be fer holdin'
it back.' That's what I wants to hear folks say as they're p'intin' me
out, an'----"
"Oh, slush! If you stand up there chinning much longer, Perk,
somebody'll come. You want this to be a private flight, don't you?"
"Jest at the beginnin', till I see if everythin' works all right. If
there ain't any hitch. I want to make it as public as possible. I'd
be tickled to have the hull town come out an' see me cuttin' figger
eight's in the clouds. 'It can't be that one-legged feller up there is
Welcome Perkins, the ole ex-pirate o' the plains as has been living
right here among us, can it?' the people will say, awed-like, turnin'
to each other. Then I'll fly low, so'st to let 'em make sure, an' laugh
exultin'-like----"
"Back to the woods for you, Perk; go ahead an' fly. Don't stand there
talkin' about it."
"Sure Susie ain't got back yit, an' nobody else ain't lookin'?"
"Don't fret about that, Perk. We're all alone out here, but there's no
tellin' how long we'll be by ourselves if you lose much more time."
There was a very peculiar situation in the McReady back yard. A stout
pole, some thirty feet high, stood firmly planted in the ground. Half
way up the pole a platform had been constructed, and on this platform
stood an old, one-legged gentleman surrounded by a lot of canvas wings.
There was a canvas tail behind to be depressed or lifted, according as
the old gentleman wanted to fly up or down; and there was a propeller
just in front of the tail, which was to be worked by foot-power and
keep the machine going. The aeroplane had been hoisted to its elevated
position by means of a stout rope passing through a pulley at the top
of the pole.
The one-legged man was Welcome Perkins, and the red-headed boy on the
ground was Chub McReady--who was something of an inventor himself,
although this flying machine had been designed wholly by Welcome.
Slowly Welcome untied the rope from the flying machine, and Chub
pulled it through the pulley and then coiled it up on the ground at
the foot of the pole. Thereupon Welcome pushed into the manhole of the
flying machine and began hoisting himself up and down, preparatory to
springing off. He stopped suddenly, however, and pulled out of the
machine to look down at Chub.
"I reckon, Chub," he observed, as by an afterthought, "I'll fly around
the dome o' the capitol half a dozen times an' then light on the
weather-vane so'st the governor kin have a chanst to look out o' the
cupola winder an' thank me fer this boon to the human race. Mebby I'll
perch on top o' the court-house, too, fer a spell, an' take a leetle
fly out by the Injun school. If I don't git back airly, don't be in a
takin' about me, er----"
"Oh, shucks!" roared Chub. "If you're afraid to start, Perk, come down
an' let me try it."
"Afraid!" snorted Welcome. "You know blame' well I ain't afraid o'
nothin' on the airth 'r over it. I wisht you'd stuck the 'Merican flag
on the machine, some'rs, but I won't stop fer that now. So-long, Chub,
I'm goin' to take wing. Git out yer spy-glass if ye want ter watch me."
While Chub held his breath, old Welcome made a few more up and down
movements and then leaped from the platform.
But something must have been wrong. It couldn't have been the machine,
of course, for Chub had O. K.'d the plans, so it must have been in the
way Welcome manipulated the tail or the wings.
Twenty feet from the foot of the pole flowed the town canal. By actual
measurement, Welcome flew twenty-five feet; then the canvas fabric
turned itself inside out, and, with a wild yell, the old man dropped
into the water. There was a tremendous splash, and a small-sized geyser
shot upward.
Loud shouts came from around the corner of the house, and Matt King
and Tom Clipperton rushed into sight and darted for the canal to give
Welcome a helping hand. Matt grabbed up the rope at the foot of the
pole as he ran past.
"Great Scott!" cried Chub, joining in the race for the canal, "where'd
you fellers come from?"
"Rode up on our motor-cycles," replied Matt, "and hung around the
corner to see the show. Foolish business, Chub. Welcome might have
broken his neck--or that other leg."
"It was his own notion, that machine. I was sure it would fly, but I
headed him for the canal, so if anything went wrong he'd have a soft
place to drop."
By that time the boys were at the canal, and Matt threw the rope.
Welcome, sputtering and floundering, was tangled in the wreckage. He
had sense enough left to catch the rope, and Matt dragged him out of
the torn canvas, and all three of the boys lifted him up on the bank.
"That's the last time," fumed Welcome, dancing around and holding his
head on one side to get the water out of his ear, "the very last time,
Chub McReady, I'm goin' to try any more o' your fool contraptions. I
might a' been kilt! 'Tain't your fault I wasn't."
"It wasn't my contraption, Perk," answered Chub, smothering a laugh,
now that he was certain Welcome hadn't suffered any particular damage.
"It was yours."
"Dad-bing!" yelled Welcome, more worked up over the fun the boys were
getting out of the situation than he was over the accident itself.
"Ye goaded me on, ye know ye did! I ain't a-goin' to stand no more.
Lawlessness is b'ilin' around inside o' me, an' I'm goin' to git right
out! Instid o' helpin' progress, like I was intendin', I'm goin' to cut
loose, out there in the hills, an' give it a back-set. You hear me?
Wow! Laff! laff all ye want! When they git out the U. S. Army to chase
me, an' run me down, I reckon ye'll laugh on t'other side yer face. An'
it was you done it, Chub McReady! That's somethin' fer you to think
about!"
The old man whirled and galloped for the house, growling to himself,
jabbing his wooden pin viciously into the ground with every step, and
leaving a watery trail as he went. Chub keeled over on the ground,
kicked his feet in the air, and roared.
"It's a cinch," he guffawed, "that that's the last flyin' machine
Perk'll try to invent. We thought we was havin' this experiment
entirely private, an' I guess Perk thought I'd given you fellers the
tip, so you could be hangin' around. That didn't help his temper any."
"We got here just before Welcome jumped off," said Matt. "I couldn't
figure out what he was trying to do, at first, or I'd have rushed out
and tried to stop him."
"You couldn't have stopped him!" snickered Chub. "The old boy had the
bit in his teeth."
"Ducking was all right," grinned Clip. "May have been a good thing.
Cooled his spirit, anyhow."
"Punk! His pesky spirit will break out somewhere else, you see. Perk is
a human volcano, an' he's got to have an eruption just about so often
or he can't be happy. But why are you fellers showin' up here so early
in the morning?"
"Clip and I are going to Denver on our motor-cycles," answered Matt.
"We just came around to say good-by."
Chub's face fell.
"On the level?" he asked. "Hang it all, Matt it can't be you're goin'
to-day?"
"We are, if nothing bobs up to keep us back. I've been trying to
start for two or three weeks, but at the last moment I generally run
into something that interferes with my plans. Clip has bought Penny's
motor-cycle, we've laid out our route, and we want to get away early
this afternoon."
"Say," exploded Chub, "if I had a motor-cycle I'm hanged if I wouldn't
go with you."
"I've got a picture of you leaving Phoenix now," returned Matt, "while
your father is getting to work developing his mine. You'll have to help
him, Chub. Where's Susie? I want to say good-by to her before I----"
Matt broke off his words. Fate had already interfered two or three
times with his start for Denver, and just then Fate was getting ready
to repeat the old performance.
A far-away rattle, growing steadily in volume, broke on the ears of the
boys. Whirling around, they stared across the canal and toward the road
on the other side of the bridge.
What they saw sent the blood racing through their veins.
Four scrubby cayuses, hitched to a wood-hauler's wagon, were running
away. The wagon was nothing more than two pairs of wheels connected by
a "reach." As the vehicle leaped and swayed from one side of the road
to the other, the startled eyes of the boys made out a small figure
clinging to the "reach" for dear life.
"There's a girl on that wagon!" cried Chub breathlessly.
The girl could not have been more than five or six years old, and her
dangerous situation appealed to Matt and aroused a swift determination
to save her if it could possibly be done.
Without a word, he picked up the rope with which he had dragged Welcome
out of the canal and darted for the gate in front of the house. As he
ran, his fingers were busy knotting a noose in the rope's end.