CHAPTER IX.
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY.
Matt had no more than reached the tree when he heard a sound ofscrambling behind him. Just as he whirled about to see what was goingon, a husky yell rang out.
"I'll take care o' the Dutchman, Spangler. You nail the other 'un!"
Simultaneously with the words a big, ruffianly-looking fellow spranginto the tonneau of the car, grabbed Carl as he was about to rise andpulled him over the back of the seat with an arm about his throat.There was another man on the ground, moving warily in Matt's direction.
These were the two scoundrels who had chased the car on the other sideof the mountain, there was no doubt about that. They had made theircounter-move exactly as Tomlinson had surmised. But why had they madeit, now that Tomlinson was not with the car? And where were theirhorses?
It seemed clear that they had made a quick ride through the gap, andhad reached the trailside and hidden behind the bushes, ready to make acapture as soon as the tree had stopped the boys and before they couldtake the back track. And what was the use of it all, now that Tomlinsonhad got away with the pearls?
These thoughts flashed through Matt's mind with the swiftness oflightning. A dead branch had been broken from the pine-tree in itsfall. Matt grabbed at it and began waving it around his head.
"Keep away from me!" he cried, to the fellow who was closing in on him.
The ruffian, seeing the snapping gray eyes and the whirling club,paused undecidedly.
"That's Motor Matt!" yelled the man in the automobile; "get him,Spangler!"
"Oh, blazes!" snarled the man. "If ye think I'm goin' to walk interthat club, Hank, ye've got another guess comin'. I'll git him, though."
Spangler threw a hand behind him and jerked a revolver from his hippocket.
"Now, younker," said he, leveling the weapon, "drop yer club an' bereasonable. I'd hate like sin ter cut ye off in yer youth an' bloom,but Hank an' me ain't here fer the fun o' the thing, not noways."
Matt could see with half an eye that the man meant business, and thathe would be quick to use the revolver if he had to. If the two ruffianswere after the pearls, they would probably leave Matt and Carl and goaway as soon as they found out they were on the wrong track. Then, ifever, was the time to do a little talking.
"What do you want?" asked Matt, throwing the club away and leaning backagainst the tree.
"You seen anything of a green bag?" asked Hank, still hanging to Carl.
"I've seen it, yes," answered Matt. "If that's what you want, wehaven't got it."
"Where is it? Don't you lie to me--it won't be healthy for you."
"Mr. Tomlinson has got the bag," said Matt.
The man on the ground gave a jump and began to swear.
"Do you mean to say," shouted the man in the car, "that the _hombre_who was in this car with you didn't have that bag?"
"Yes, he's the one. His name's Tomlinson. He's in the jewelry business,in Denver."
An odd expression crossed the faces of the two men. Then Spangler beganto laugh.
"What d'ye think o' that, Hank?" he demanded. "Tomlinson! He said hisname was Tomlinson! Waal, wouldn't that rattle yer spurs?"
"You say he had the bag?" went on Hank.
"Yes," said Matt.
"They didn't try to take it away from him in Ash Fork?"
"No. Why should they, if it belonged to him?"
"What became of--er--Tomlinson?"
"He got out of the car on the other side of the mountain. He thoughtyou'd cross over through the gap, and head us off."
This information put both men in a swearing temper.
"If he's on foot anywhere within a dozen miles of us," growled Hank,"we'll get him. Come on, Spangler! Spurs and quirts, while we run thecoyote down."
Releasing the half-strangled Carl, Hank leaped out of the car. Togetherthey started for the trailside, and the wooded slope leading to the gap.
But they were not gone, yet. Just as they began to mount the slope,Spangler gave vent to an angry yell.
"Look thar, Hank," he roared, pointing along the road beyond the tree."_Now_ who's played it low-down on us?"
Matt ran back to the car and climbed up to the front seat. From thatelevation he was able to look off and see what it was that had claimedHank's frantic attention.
Carl was already staring across the tree and into the distance. Twomounted men were galloping up the road, one of them leading a horsewith an empty saddle.
One of the men was Tomlinson; the other was----
"Pringle!" muttered Carl; "py chiminy grickets, dere goes dot fellervat shkipped mit all vat I hat!"
Hank and Spangler were furious.
"They're makin' off with our hosses!" bellowed Spangler.
"And they've got the pearls!" added Hank.
"We got ter ketch 'em!" stormed Spangler. "We got ter pick up hossessome'rs an' git holt of 'em!"
He started to run along the slope in the direction the horses weregoing.
"Come back here, you fool!" ordered Hank. "We couldn't overhaul them ina thousand years, on foot."
"What'll we do?" flung back Spangler. "We kain't stand here an' watch'em go skyhootin' off with our hosses an' them pearls. Of all the Injunplays I ever heerd of, this takes the banner!"
Hank was already retracing his way down the slope.
"We'll take the automobile!" he yelled, over his shoulder. "We'll beclimbing right on top of 'em in a brace of shakes."
"Dot means us, Matt!" exclaimed Carl. "You do vat dey say, und pychimineddy I vill catch oop mit dot Pringle feller! Wienerwurst! I'llmake him t'ink I vas vorse as dot!"
With revolvers in their hands, Spangler and Hank came plunging for thecar.
"Snake us out of this, Motor Matt!" shouted Hank. "Lay us alongsidethat outfit ahead, and see how quick you can do it!"
"Can't do it," answered Matt. "You fellows have blocked the road."
In their excitement, neither Hank nor Spangler had thought of the tree.It was a case of their own weapons being turned against them. Theruffians let loose their billingsgate again, but only for a moment.
"Get out here, you two," shouted Hank, "and help us snake the log outof the way. I reckon the four of us will be plenty."
Carl piled out briskly, and Matt followed. Spangler and Hank workedlike beavers, and after a two minutes' struggle the way was cleared.
"Now for it!" panted Hank, rushing back to the car. "All in, everybody!If you try any tricks with the machinery, Motor Matt," he finishedsavagely, "I'll make a lead-mine out of you. Top speed!"
It was an odd situation, take it all around. Matt was being forced tohelp the would-be robbers, but his suspicions of Tomlinson, since histalk with Spangler and Hank, had reached a point where he was more thanwilling to do his best to overhaul the men ahead.
Carl, of course, was thinking only of Pringle, and of what Pringle haddone to him.
The Red Flier leaped onward with a bound, Matt leaning over the wheeland coaxing the six cylinders up, notch by notch, to their limit ofpower.
Hank was in front with Matt. Behind them, standing in the tonneau,gripping the seat-back and leaning over their heads, were Carl andSpangler.
"Gif her all she vill shtand, Matt!" cried Carl. "Hit her oop likeanyding! Tear off der miles so kevick as dey nefer vas yet!"
"Whoop-ya!" yelled Spangler. "We'll purty near git thar afore we start!Talk about yer travelin'--why, this here's like bein' shot out of agun!"
"That fellow isn't Tomlinson, you say?" shouted Matt to the man besidehim.
"No more than I am!" answered Hank.
"Is he Denver Denny, otherwise James Trymore?"
"You've hit it!"
A light had suddenly dawned on Matt. Denver Denny was playing a boldgame, and the stakes were $30,000 worth of black pearls. Although Mattwas helping Spangler and Hank, yet there was a hope, deep down in hisheart, that he might somehow be able to worst all the robbers andrecover the pearls for the man who owned them.
But where was that man?
While all this fighting was going on for the possession of the pearls,what had become of James Q. Tomlinson, of Denver?
Motor Matt's Mystery; or, Foiling a Secret Plot Page 9
