Chapter XI: Siwash Shows His Teeth--And His Heels

Black's astonishment was great when Motor Matt reappeared at the front of the building and leaped into the car.

"Hustle for the Oberon road, Mr. Black!" Matt cried.

"What's to pay?" asked Black as McGlory flung himself into the tonneau.

"You remember that wagon we passed?" asked Matt.

"Of course, but----"

"Well, the aëroplane is aboard the wagon."

"Great Cæsar!" Black was already on the ground, cranking up. "How did that happen?" he asked, getting back into the car and turning it the other way.

When they were well started, Matt explained about the telegram received by the post trader.

"It's easy to understand what happened," said Matt. "Murgatroyd's plan was to send Siwash Charley here after the aëroplane. If Siwash had had all night and part of to-morrow to work in, he and his pals would have got away with the flying machine in spite of us. But Siwash had to make another move when he saw us on the road. It was a clever move, too, although it only won out by a scratch. Siwash went on to Oberon and sent that message, signing Mrs. Traquair's name to it. If we hadn't had so many breakdowns, we'd have reached the post trader's before his man got away with the aëroplane."

"Well," declared Black, "we can overhaul the wagon long before it gets to Oberon. If Siwash Charley had used his head a little more, he'd have known there wasn't one chance in ten of this move of his succeeding.

"And to think of us sailin' right past that wagon," muttered McGlory, "and even slowing up so as not to scare the horses! Funny how things will turn out sometimes."

The Chinese boy had been using his eyes and ears a great deal more than his tongue. But his emotions, at every stage of that ride from Jamestown, had changed with Matt's and McGlory's. Now Ping was all chagrin, and a wild desire to "push on the reins" and overhaul Jake.

The road was fairly good until the automobile reached the forks; after that, it ran into hilly country where there was considerable sand.

Black forced the car all he could, but the poor speed it developed filled the impatient boys with dismay and anxiety.

"We'll never overtake that wagon in a thousand years, at this gait," fumed McGlory.

"You forget, Joe," answered Matt, "that if we're going slow, the wagon is going a lot slower."

"That's the talk," said Black. "We'll come up with the wagon several miles this side of Oberon."

As the car ground through the sand, and chugged up the hills, the boys kept a sharp watch ahead. Dawn brightened in the east, and the gray streamers crept steadily toward the zenith.

"Five o'clock," said Matt, looking at his watch. "The sun will be up in half an hour."

"Precious little I care for that," chuckled Black. "There's Jake!"

The car had topped a hill which gave its passengers a long view out over the level prairie. Far away in the distance the dim gray light showed the boys a dark blot on the plain. It was impossible to tell much about the blot, at that range, but there could be no doubt concerning it. Surely it was the wagon; it could be nothing else.

"Jake must have punctured a tire," observed McGlory humorously. "What has he stopped for?"

"Possibly he stopped to breathe his horses," suggested Black. "We'll eat up the ground, now, for the road is on the level, and there's less sand."

Black let the car out. As he and the boys came closer and closer, a startling scene slowly unfolded before their eyes.

The wagon was at a standstill, just as the cowboy had said, and beside it was a motor car. Four or five figures could be seen moving around in the vicinity of the wagon. Abruptly these figures hunched together, and stood quietly.

"It's the other automobile," said Black between his teeth. "Siwash Charley and his pals came out from Oberon to meet Jake."

"They've got together and are looking this way," breathed McGlory.

"Mebbyso they makee shoot," chattered Ping.

"Shall we go on?" queried Black. "It's for you to say, Motor Matt. I don't think Siwash will dare rough things up so close to the fort, and in broad day."

"Yes," said Matt grimly, "we've got to go on. For all we know, Murgatroyd may have told Siwash to destroy the aëroplane. In fact, that may be what he's doing, now. Go on, Mr. Black, and go with a rush."

The boys fell silent as the car bounded on along the road. All of them felt the danger of their position, but neither McGlory, Black, nor Ping would have thought of asking Matt to turn back.

In a few moments the boys were so close they could see the guns which Siwash Charley and his friends were holding in their hands. Matt, however, had more concern for the bulky load in the wagon than for the guns. So far as he could see, the load was intact, and had not been tampered with.

The wagon was facing toward Oberon, and the car--drawn up alongside the wagon--was pointed toward Fort Totten. Several yards in front of the car stood Siwash Charley, and two other men, who looked fully as villainous. All of these three had rifles.

Jake was standing up in the front part of the wagon, hanging to the reins with one hand and looking back. The driver of the automobile was leaning against the front of the car, watching passively for what was to come. An atmosphere of ugly foreboding hovered over the scene as Black stopped his car within a dozen yards of Siwash Charley and his two pals.

"That's erbout as fur as we reckoned we'd let ye come," shouted Siwash Charley. "If ye'd got hyer ten minutes later, ye'd hev found the flyin' machine scattered all over the perary."

"Do you mean to say," cried Matt, standing up in the car, "that you were going to wreck the aëroplane?"

"That's what," answered Siwash Charley, "an' we're goin' ter do it, yet. Ye needn't think that yer comin' will make any diff'rence. I told you cubs I'd git even with ye fer what ye done, but when I showed my teeth ye didn't allow I'd bite. I'm showin' my fangs ag'in, an' this time thar's goin' ter be somethin' doin'."

"Siwash Charley," said Matt, "you don't mean to say that a trifling disagreement, like the one we had in Jamestown, is enough to make you destroy that aëroplane?"

"I reckon ye don't know me, Motor Matt," blustered Siwash. "I allers make it a p'int ter saw off even, an' I reckon I kin squar' my account with you a heap better by bustin' up the flyin' machine than in any other way. I'll give ye two minutes ter turn that thar machine o' yourn and take the back track."

Simultaneously with the words, Siwash lifted his rifle to his shoulder, and pointed it directly at Matt.

The king of the motor boys did not stir, but his gray eyes snapped dangerously as they looked into the eyes gleaming along the barrel of the gun.

"You're not going to do any more shooting, Siwash Charley," said Matt, his voice steady. "You took two shots at us last night, and if either one of them had struck me, or any of my friends, you and Murgatroyd would have paid dearly for it."

The mention of Murgatroyd caused Siwash to drop his gun suddenly.

"Murgatroyd hasn't got a thing ter do with this," he roared. "It's my own affair I'm settlin'."

"Murgatroyd has got everything to do with this!" retorted Matt. "He got that car for you, and sent you out of Jamestown last night. You hoped to reach the fort ahead of us--and you'd certainly have done so if we'd waited until this morning and taken the train. If you make any trouble for me here, Murgatroyd will be arrested in Jamestown just as quick as a message can be wired to the police. And you'll make trouble for yourself, too, for you played a trick in getting that aëroplane off the government reservation. You can show your teeth as much as you please, but if you try to bite you'll regret it."

"I'm done chinnin' with you!" whopped Siwash Charley, once more bringing his gun to his shoulder. "Turn that ottermobill t'other way, an' hike out o' this. Ye got a minute left."

Black got out of the machine, and walked around to the crank.

"Leave the crank alone, Black," ordered Matt. "That scoundrel's a coward, and he doesn't dare to shoot."

Black hesitated.

"Better do as he says, pard," observed McGlory, climbing over the back of the seat and ranging himself shoulder to shoulder with Matt.

The cowboy's words were addressed to Black. The latter retreated from the front of the machine, and stood at the roadside, watching developments anxiously.

It was a situation of the gravest peril, but Matt could not go away and leave the aëroplane to be wrecked.

"Are ye goin'?" yelled Siwash furiously. "If ye think I dasn't shoot, I'll show ye I ain't afeared o' nothin'."

"Put down that gun!" ordered Matt.

The scoundrel's finger flexed on the trigger. In another instant the trigger would have been pressed. But something happened. Jake, standing in the front of the wagon, whirled a long blacksnake whip about his head by the lash. Suddenly he let it go, and the weighted handle shot through the air, and struck Siwash Charley's fated right arm. The end of the whip handle landed at about the place where McGlory's missile had struck, the day before.

With a swirling bellow of pain, Siwash dropped the rifle and staggered back, clasping his right forearm with his left hand.

He swore terribly, but the torrent of profanity was cut short by one of his pals.

"Sojers!" cried the man, sweeping Siwash Charley's gun off the ground. "Hustle out o' this, or we're done fer!"

"Swatties!" jubilated McGlory, waving his hat. "Speak to me about this!"

Matt faced the other way. There, sure enough, were half a dozen mounted troopers galloping toward the scene.

The pop of the other car's motor could be heard, and when Matt looked around, once more, Siwash Charley and his comrades were kicking up the dust in the direction of Oberon.

"Siwash Charley showed his teeth," laughed Black, immensely relieved, "and now he's showing his heels. Motor Matt," he added soberly, "I wouldn't have been in your shoes, a moment ago, for all the money in the United States Treasury!"

The king of the motor boys did not hear the last remark. He had leaped down from the car, and had run forward to the wagon, where he was reaching up and shaking hands with Jake.