A DANGEROUS MISSION.
"I don't think the boy can make it, McKibben; I don't know whether it's
right to ask him to try to make it."
The governor was pacing back and forth in his private office, talking
with the sheriff who sat near-by. Something of importance was in the
wind, as could plainly be told from the faces of the two men and from
the nervous actions of the governor.
"There's nothing that lad can't do when he sets his mind to it,"
declared McKibben. "If Joe Dangerfield and his gang are kept from
reaching Mexico, it's Motor Matt that does it. Take my word for that,
governor."
"Do you think you can believe what Juan Morisco told you?" queried the
governor.
"I'll take my oath it was the truth."
"If word reaches the Dangerfield gang about what we're doing, King will
never be allowed to reach his destination."
"How can word reach the gang? When the boy starts he'll go like a
streak of greased lightning. He'll beat the news, even if there was a
leak somewhere and the information that he was acting as your courier
got started toward the hills."
"I sha'n't let him start until I have told him all about the danger----"
McKibben laughed.
"That youngster don't know what fear is, governor. He won't gigg back
on the job because of any trouble that may be staring him in the face.
Anyhow, he's our only hope. There's not a machine in town that can
cover the ground like it's got to be covered, except the _Comet_; and
there's no one else to use the _Comet_ except Motor Matt."
"He's slow getting here, seems to me," muttered the governor, starting
for a window to look out.
Before he reached the window a rap fell on the door. In answer to his
call, the governor's secretary entered.
"Here's young King, sir," announced the secretary.
"Have him come right in," said the governor, a look of relief crossing
his face.
The secretary withdrew, and the next moment Matt entered and stood
before the two men, cap in hand.
"You sent for me, sir?" he asked.
This was not the first time Governor Gaynor had seen Motor Matt, but
never before had he marked the sturdy bearing and resourceful air of
the lad as he did then. Somehow, his feeling of relief increased, and
he sat down in the big chair before his desk.
"Yes, King," said he; "I sent for you. How would you like to do
a little brisk, and perhaps exciting, work for Uncle Sam and the
Territory of Arizona?"
"I'll be glad to do anything I can," answered Matt, not a little
curious because of the governor's words and manner.
"There may be danger in it, King," went on the governor, eying the
lad's face keenly, "a great deal of danger."
"That ought to keep me gingered up," smiled Matt easily.
McKibben chuckled and swerved his eyes to the governor.
"There'll also be one hundred dollars in it for you."
"That's all right, too, sir," said Matt. "I could use the hundred."
"Briefly, then," proceeded the governor briskly, "the work is this:
A man named Joe Dangerfield, with several other ruffians, is camped
at Tinaja Wells, near Painted Rocks. They're a lawless set, those
fellows, and have been engaged in smuggling Chinamen into the United
States by way of Mexico and the Arizona border. The Federal Government
has offered a reward of one thousand dollars each for the capture of
Dangerfield or any of his gang.
"Jasper Burke, the sheriff from Prescott, is camped with a posse at
Potter's Gap, just over the divide, at the head of Castle Creek Cañon.
Dangerfield and his gang are known to be making for the Mexican border,
to get away from the authorities and so effect their escape. The trail
south from Tinaja Wells passes through Potter's Gap, and Burke and his
posse are waiting there to catch the Dangerfield outfit as it comes
along.
"It appears now, however, that Dangerfield has got wind of the
sheriff's move, and that he is going to leave Tinaja Wells some time
to-night and start south by another route. Now, Potter's Gap is a
hundred miles from Phoenix, and unless I can find a courier who will
get a letter into Burke's hands by five o'clock this afternoon, the
Dangerfield gang will escape into Mexico."
The governor's eyes sought a clock on the wall.
"It lacks fifteen minutes of noon," said he. "If you can get started
by twelve o'clock, you will have just five hours to make a 'century'
run--and a rough run it will be for a part of the way. Can you make it?"
A large map of Arizona hung near the clock. Matt stepped toward it.
"Can you show me, Mr. McKibben," he asked, "how I'll have to go to
reach Potter's Gap?"
"Sure, Matt," answered the sheriff, getting out of his chair and
drawing his finger over the map as he talked. "This here's the Black
Cañon road out of Phoenix--you know that pretty well by this time, I
reckon. The road forks this side of the Bluebell Mine, and you take the
fork. That leads you to Frog Tanks and Castle Creek Cañon. You go up
the cañon to a point five miles north of Hot Springs; there you'll find
a trail leading up the right-hand wall of the cañon and over the divide
to Potter's Gap. The hard part of your trip will come getting over the
divide."
"Any place on the trail where I can get gasoline?" asked Matt. "The
_Comet's_ tank will only hold enough for about seventy-five miles. If
I can't get any on the way, I'll have to take some with me. Won't have
to bother with oil. The oil-tank holds a quart, and that will keep me
going for two hundred miles."
"Better take some gasoline along and make sure," said McKibben. "You
might be able to get some at Hot Springs, or at Frog Tanks; but there's
a doubt, and you can't be in doubt of anything on this trip."
"Very well, sir."
"Think you can find your way all right?"
"It looks easy on the map, but I might take Clipperton along. He knows
the country like a book, and he's got a motor-cycle of his own now. His
machine is a one-cylinder, and not as fast as the _Comet_, but if I see
Clip can't keep the pace, I can leave him behind."
"It's all right to take one of your chums with you, King," put in the
governor; "in fact, it may be a mighty good thing for you to have some
one else along. If Dangerfield and his men are captured, it means that
they will spend a good long time in the penitentiary; and if they find
out you are carrying word to Burke that will keep them from reaching
Mexico, they'll do everything in their power to stop you."
"How'll they find out, sir? I'll keep ahead of the news all the way."
"That's what I'm hoping you'll do; but this Dangerfield gang is well
organized, and the fact that they've discovered Burke and his posse are
laying for them at Potter's Gap proves they're keeping track of things."
The governor whirled around to his desk and picked up an envelope.
"I'll not keep you any longer," said he, "for you have little enough
time for your 'century' run as it is. Here are the instructions which
you are to deliver to Burke. Put the letter away safely."
Matt opened his leather jacket and tucked the letter into the inside
pocket.
"Did you find out all this from Juan Morisco, Mr. McKibben?" he asked.
The sheriff nodded.
"That scar on Juan's face gave him away," said he. "How's the girl?"
The sheriff's eyes widened when he heard the report.
"She won't say a word about herself, or about Juan Morisco," went on
Matt.
"Can't blame her for that," said the sheriff.
It was plain that Morisco had told the sheriff something about Rags,
and Matt would have liked to hear what it was. Time was pressing just
then, however, and he had no wish to talk any longer.
As he was about to leave the room, the governor caught his hand, shook
it heartily, and wished him luck.
"I have confidence in your ability to take care of yourself, King,"
said he; "if I hadn't, I shouldn't allow you to make this venture under
any consideration. Keep a sharp look-out for trouble, that's all, and
put the _Comet_ through for all she's worth."
"I'll get your letter into Burke's hands, Governor Gaynor," declared
Matt, "by five o'clock. Good-by, sir."
As he left the office the clock was striking twelve.
"He'll do it, too," declared McKibben.
A few moments after the door closed behind Matt, the secretary
presented himself. He wore a troubled air.
"What's the matter, Jenkins?" queried the governor.
"Perhaps nothing, sir," answered Jenkins; "but when young King came
in to see you, there was a rough-looking man loafing around the hall.
After I had sent King into your office, I saw the man through the
window. He was hurrying down the walk in front, and I watched until he
got into a motor-car--a high-powered roadster. There was another man in
the car, and I'm sure they exceeded the speed-limit as they broke away
from the curb."
The governor, with a trace of consternation, turned on the sheriff.
"What do you think of that, McKibben?" he asked.
McKibben laughed easily.
"You're letting this Dangerfield business get on your nerves,
governor," said he. "What could that chap who was loafing in the hall
discover just by seeing King come in here?"
"He might have been friendly toward the Dangerfield gang, and he may
have made a guess as to why King had come here----"
"Nothing to it, governor, take it from me. Motor Matt will pull down
that hundred just too easy for any use. A dollar a mile for that
'century' run looks pretty good to him, I'll bet. Don't lose any sleep
about _him_. He'll be back here some time to-morrow, chipper as usual
and a hundred to the good. He's the bank that gets my gilt, no discount
on that."