CHAPTER VIII.
THE CUT-OUT UNDER THE LEDGE.
McGlory was inclined to view recent events in a humorous light.
"Speak to me about that, pard!" he laughed, when he and Matt had haltedfor breath, and to determine, if possible, which way Bunce had gone. "Itold you what was on the programme if you became trustee for the Eye ofBuddha. We never know when lightning's going to strike, or how."
"I don't like episodes of that sort," muttered Matt. "It puts us in abad light, Joe."
"Oh, hang that part of it! We can explain the whole thing to therailroad superintendent as soon as we get back to Catskill. Thatsection boss was a saphead. You couldn't pound any reason into hisblock with a sledge hammer. Forget it!"
"But you drew a gun on the section men. That makes the business lookbad for us."
McGlory chuckled. "See here, pard," said he. With that, he "broke" therevolver and exposed the end of the cylinder.
There were no cartridges in the weapon!
"Now, what do you think?" laughed the cowboy. "I borrowed the gun in ahurry, and didn't think to ask whether it was loaded--and I reckon thehotel clerk didn't think to tell me. It's about as dangerous as a pieceof bologna sausage, but it looks ugly--and that's about all there is tothis revolver proposition, anyhow."
Matt enjoyed the recent experience, in which the harmless revolver hadplayed its part, fully as much as his chum.
"Well," said the king of the motor boys, "what's done can't be helped,and we'd better be about our business with Bunce. But what's become ofthe mariner? He ought to be around here, somewhere."
"He's ducked," returned McGlory, "and I'll bet it's for good. We'vefound out he had a pair of good eyes, and he's got shy of us."
"If we don't find him," mused Matt, "it's a clear case that he wasplaying double with us. If we do find him, then we can take a littlemore stock in what he tells us about Tsan Ti. It will be worthsomething to feel sure, either way."
"Maybe you're right, but how are we going to pick up the webfoot'strail?"
Matt studied the ground. The earth was soft from a recent rain, and thefact gave him an idea.
"Track him, Joe. You're used to that sort of thing. Put your knowledgeto some account."
"In order to track the mariner," said McGlory, "we'll have to go backto the place where we saw him duck into the timber. It'll be a toughjob, but I'm willing to try if we can once pick up the trail."
"That's the only thing for us to do. If Bunce was intending to dealsquarely with us, he'd have shown himself before this."
"Let's see," mused the cowboy. "He said that Grattan was hiding outabout five miles from Catskill, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Then I reckon the place is somewhere around here. We're about fivemiles from the town, I should judge. Still," and disgust welled up inthe cowboy as he voiced the thought, "you can't tell whether Bunce wasgiving that part of it straight, or not. He's about as crooked as theymake 'em, that tinhorn."
The boys, during their talk, had been moving slowly back in thedirection of the railroad track. Cautiously they came to the edge ofthe timber, close to the right of way, on the alert not only for thetracks left by Bunce, but for the presence of the section men, as well.
The section gang, they discovered, had left the vicinity of the sharpcurve, and were nowhere in sight. The speeder, badly shaken by thejar of its collision with the tie, was off the rails, and the tie laybeside it.
"No sign of the section men," announced Matt, after a careful survey ofthe track.
"Mighty good thing for us, too, pard," said McGlory. "Here's Bunce'strail, and he traveled so fast he only hit the ground with his toes.Come on! I can run it out for a ways, anyhow."
McGlory's life on the cattle ranges had made him particularly apt inthe lore of the plains. The trail was very dim in places, but even thedisturbed leaves under the trees, and the broken bushes told McGlorywhere the mariner had passed.
The course taken by Bunce led across a timbered "flat" and down into arocky ravine, then along the ravine to a ledge of rock which jutted outfrom a side hill. The under side of the ledge was perhaps a dozen feetover the bottom of the ravine, and under it was a sort of "pocket" inthe hill.
Here there were evidences of a primitive camp. The soft earth under theledge was trampled by human feet, and there was a large, five-galloncan that had once held gasoline, but which was now empty. A small moundof dried leaves had been heaped up at the innermost recess of the"pocket," and the bed still bore the faint impression of a man's body.
"Bunce was right about Grattan being in hiding near Catskill," observedMatt. "Here's the place, sure enough."
"And Bunce came here, pard," went on McGlory; "he made tracks straightfor this hang-out as soon as he got clear of us. Judging from what wesee, I should say Bunce met Grattan, and that they both hurried off.But what was that gasoline for?"
"For the speeder, maybe," replied Matt.
"They wouldn't keep the gasoline supply for the speeder so far from thetrack, would they?"
"I shouldn't think so; still, I can't imagine what else they'd wantgasoline for."
"What sort of a game was Bunce up to? If Grattan was here, theneverything was going right, so far as the plan to capture Grattan wasconcerned. Why didn't Bunce wait for us, back there in the timber, andgive us the chance to come on here and put the kibosh on the man wewant?"
"It's a mystery, Joe," said the puzzled Matt. "Perhaps Bunce believedthat we'd be captured by the section men and that it wouldn't bepossible to get hold of Grattan. If he thought that, he might have comeon to this place, given his New York report to Grattan, and made up hismind to see the rascally game through to a finish. Bunce couldn't haveany idea that we'd escape from the section gang."
"Well," growled McGlory, "he might have waited and made certain of it."
There was no accounting for the queer actions of the mariner. It seemedas though, after the collision with the railroad tie and the coming ofthe section men, he had changed his mind about helping the boys captureGrattan.
Matt and McGlory moved around under the ledge, trying to find somethingelse that would point positively to the presence of Grattan in the"pocket."
There was a strong odor of gasoline--much stronger than would havecome from the uncorked, empty can. Suddenly Matt found something, andhurriedly called his chum.
"What is it?" inquired McGlory, running to Matt's side.
Matt pointed to two straight lines in the earth, leading out and up theravine.
"Motorcycles," said he laconically, "two of them!"
McGlory struck his fist against his open palm.
"Well, what do you think of that!" he cried. "Motorcycles and speeders!Say, those tinhorns were well fixed in the motor line. And Bunce toldus both motorcycles had been destroyed! Sufferin' Ananias, but he's atongue twister!"
"There's no doubt but that Grattan was here," went on Matt, "and thathe had the two motorcycles with him. The gasoline was used to fill themotorcycles' tanks. As soon as Bunce got to this place, the wheels weremade ready and Bunce and Grattan rode off."
"They're headed for New York, I reckon, to 'fill the bill' for poor oldTsan Ti!"
"I don't believe it," declared Matt. "I didn't take much stock in thestory when Bunce told it, but on the chance that it might be true, Ifelt as though we should give Tsan Ti the benefit of the doubt. But,now, I'm fairly certain the yarn was all moonshine."
"Bunce took a whole lot of trouble for nothing, pard," commentedMcGlory. "What was the good of his coming to the hotel, running therisk of our turning him over to the police, and then motoring out herewith us on that ramshackle speeder if he never intended to help uscapture Grattan?"
"Maybe we'll discover that later. Suppose we follow the trail of themotorcycles, Joe?"
"Why? They're a dozen miles from here, by this time."
"We can't overtake them, of course, but we can discover which way theywent."
It was an easy matter to trail the heavy machines
up the ravine. Abouthalf a mile above the camp under the ledge, a wagon road crossed theravine, and the wheels had turned into it. To the surprise of the boys,the wheels had turned in the direction of Catskill.
"It can't be those two tinhorns would have the nerve to go to thetown," said McGlory.
"I don't think they would," agreed Matt, "but they have gone in thatdirection, at all events. It's up to us to walk back, so we may as wellfollow the road and the motorcycle trail."
"This is what I call tough luck," said the cowboy, when he and Mattwere swinging along the road. "I didn't think there was any sensetaking up with Bunce, in the first place. Nice way for that move to panout! We go gunning for Grattan on a speeder, and then hoof it back--toface a charge of robbery preferred by the section men!"
"We'll settle that robbery charge quick enough," returned Matt.
"No doubt about that. I wouldn't feel so worked up over the thing if Icould make any sort of guess as to what it was all about."
"Well," laughed Matt, repeating one of McGlory's favorite remarks, "wecan't know so much all the time as we do just some part of the time,Joe."
"No more we can't, pard," said the cowboy.
Motor Matt's Mariner; or, Filling the Bill for Bunce Page 8
