Chapter XI: Matt Makes a New Move

Neither of the boys ate much breakfast. That telegram, showing how Clipperton was being railroaded through the court, had taken their appetite. Matt reflected bitterly that Clip was a quarter-blood--little better than a half-breed--and that the foregone conclusion that he was guilty must have prompted Sparling, the prosecuting attorney, to hustle the case through. There was evidence enough to convict him without hunting up any more.

Matt's first step, after breakfast, was to send a telegram to Short.

"Adjourn the case if you can. Must have more time. If anything
is done, got to do it here. Can't you send some one to take our
affidavits?"

Following this, Matt made a new move--one which he was sorry he had not made before. Leaving Chub at the Briggs House, he hunted up his friend Sheriff Burke.

Because of what Matt had done for law and order, Burke had a hearty admiration for him, and welcomed him cordially.

"I'm here on business, Mr. Burke," said Matt, "and haven't got much time to talk. You've heard about the robbery of Josh Fresnay, and about my chum, Tom Clipperton, being held for it?"

A sympathetic look crossed Burke's face.

"Sure I've heard about it," said he. "The trial's on to-day. I'm wondering, Matt, why you're not in Phoenix instead of here."

"I'm here trying to help Clipperton. I can't explain how, but that's the way of it. Short, Clip's lawyer, telegraphed me the case will probably go to the jury Monday. There's not much time to lose, and I'd like to have you send out some deputies to look for the real robbers, Mr. Burke."

Burke opened his eyes wide.

"Why," said he, "it looks like a clear case against Clipperton, and----"

"It isn't a clear case!" declared Matt warmly. "Day before yesterday the two men who robbed Fresnay were in the hills between Wickenburg and Skull Valley. That puts them in your county, Mr. Burke, and it's up to you to catch them, if you can."

"How do you know all that?" demanded Burke, a little excited.

"Because they chased me and my chum, McReady; but we were on our motor-cycles, and got away from them."

"What were they chasin' you for?"

Matt did not care to tell Burke about the tip which had brought him and Chub to Prescott. He got around the explanation in another way.

"Those two robbers, Mr. Burke," said he earnestly, "are two of Dangerfield's old gang."

Burke shot out of his chair at that.

"Are you positive of that, Matt?" he demanded.

"I am sure of it as I am that I am sitting here this minute."

"But those two scoundrels may be a hundred miles away from here by now!"

"I don't think so. I've got a firm conviction that they're hanging around in the vicinity of Prescott."

"They must have recognized you as bein' the governor's courier, that time we made the sourround at Tinaja Wells," said Burke, "and that's why they chased you."

Matt made no response to this.

"Will you try and locate them, Mr. Burke?" he asked.

"You bet I will--if for nothing more than to do something for you. You stack up pretty high with me, my boy, and if this is going to help any, I'll get right at it."

"Hustle!" said Matt. "If we don't dig up something to help Clipperton he's going to be convicted. And we've only got until Monday. They're not losing any time putting him through."

"Not much time to waste on a breed," returned Burke. "I know how it is. How long will you be in Prescott?"

"Can't tell. Not long, I hope."

"Where are you stopping?"

"Briggs House."

"If anything turns up I'll let you know. If you've gone back to Phoenix, I'll wire you. Keep a stiff upper lip," he added kindly, noting the gloom in Matt's face. "You seem to always win out when you tackle anything."

"There's got to be a first time for a fellow to fall down, Mr. Burke."

"Not for you, Matt," said the sheriff cheerily.

In somewhat better spirits, Matt returned to the hotel. Chub was in the office and was not long in telling Matt that nothing had happened.

"You're the one, anyway, a messenger will be lookin' for," fretted Chub. "If anything's going to turn up, you'd better stay right here and wait for it. Where you been, Matt?"

Matt told him.

"That's a good idea," approved Chub, "but the deputies ought to have been started out right after we got here."

"That's one place where my foresight slipped a cog, Chub," said Matt. "I believe I'm getting batty over this business of Clip's. Any telegram from Short?"

"No."

Nor was any message received that day. Neither did anything else develop. The boys remained in the office until midnight, and then, with heavy hearts, went to their room and to bed.

"We're a couple of dubs for staying here like we are," said Chub. "Let's get on our wheels in the morning and roll back where we belong."

"We'll wait till Monday morning," said Matt. "If we can't find out anything by then we'll take the train that leaves here at nine in the morning. Our motor-cycles can travel in the baggage-car. I wouldn't feel like taking chances of an accident to the machines on that trip."

Chub brightened.

"That's the talk!" he exclaimed. "We'll wire Short to hold the case open till we get there, then you can butt in and tell every blooming thing you know about Clip and Pima Pete. Maybe it will help."

Matt was beginning to think that this was the only thing to be done. If Clip wouldn't talk, then, at the last moment, it might be best for his friends to talk for him.

Next morning there was a whole column in one of the Prescott dailies about Clip. He had been arraigned, a jury selected, and the taking of testimony had begun. Before the closing-hour the prosecution had got in nearly all its evidence.

Fresnay had been put on the stand. He was made to tell about his ride in the red roadster, about his remark to the effect that he was going to Phoenix after the Fiddleback pay-roll, and then to describe the hold-up.

Welcome Perkins was forced to testify that Clip was in the roadster when Fresnay said he was going after the pay-roll, and was questioned about the half-breed who had stopped the cowboy's horse.

The paying-teller of the bank got in his evidence as to the amount of money drawn by Fresnay, and swore that it was all in double eagles.

Hogan and Leffingwell also added their mite to the evidence against Clip; and the money, and the dingy canvas bag, and the pouch were shown.

If Short accomplished anything on cross-examination, it did not appear in the newspaper record.

While the discouraged boys were reading and debating the court proceedings, a hack drove up with passengers from the train that had recently arrived from the south. Among these was Short himself.

Matt and Chub jumped up excitedly when they saw him. He nodded to them in his usual curt fashion.

"I've come up here just to get your affidavits," said he. "Our side will have an inning Monday morning, but it will be a short one. Let's go some place where we can talk. Bring pen, ink, and paper."

Chub got the writing-materials, and Matt led the lawyer to their room.

"There's not much hope," announced the lawyer, when they were all in the room, "and I don't believe there'd be any hope even if we could make Clipperton talk. There isn't a white man who wouldn't believe the half-breed guilty on half the evidence brought out. If we could have butted into the prosecution with a sworn statement from Dangerfield, we might have had something to work on. But that's out of the question now."

This talk, from Clip's attorney, seemed to ring the knell of his fate.

"Could we do anything if we went on the stand?" asked Matt.

"You could do something for the prosecution," answered Short grimly. "When I saw the line the prosecutor was taking, I was mighty glad you weren't around. All I want from you, King, is a statement that Dangerfield wanted you to help Pima Pete dig up that gold. That will bear out Clipperton's story when I put him on the stand. You don't know anything about that, do you, McReady?"

Chub shook his head.

Short had arrived on the eight-o'clock train, and he had to leave at nine. By doing that he would reach Phoenix early in the afternoon, and he had matters to attend to that couldn't be looked after Sunday.

Having taken Matt's statement, Short conducted him to the office of a notary public, across the street from the Briggs House, and had the document sworn to.

Then, when they were back at the hotel and waiting for the bus that was to take Short to the railroad-station, Matt told him about the second note received at Mrs. Spooner's, about the way he and Chub had been pursued on the road to Prescott, and about Sheriff Burke sending men out to look for the two horsemen.

"This is all promising," said Short, "but it doesn't lead anywhere. We've got to try and make the jury believe that Clip and Pete dug up Dangerfield's gold. Anything that helps that impression will do something for our side."

The bus was at the door, and Short got up to leave. Matt, his face white and haggard, walked with the lawyer to the door of the waiting vehicle.

"Hold the case open, Mr. Short," said he, "until the train that leaves here at nine o'clock Monday morning gets to Phoenix. If nothing comes of our work here, I'll be down, go on the stand, and tell _everything_ I know. Clip won't like it, and it will make him my enemy, but you can count on me to do that if the worst comes."

The lawyer shook his head.

"I'll see that the case doesn't go to the jury until that train reaches Phoenix," said he, "but I don't think anything you can say will do any good. I've got here"--and he tapped the breast pocket of his coat where he had placed Matt's affidavit--"all you can tell about Dangerfield's gold. If you got on the stand, you might damage our case more than you'd help it. Good-by," and Mr. Short got into the bus and was driven away.

Saturday passed, and Sunday--blue days for the dispirited boys. Sunday night brought on a tremendous storm. Lightning flashed, thunder roared, and rain fell in torrents. It was to such an accompaniment of the elements that Motor Matt gave up hope of accomplishing anything for Clipperton.

"Lucky you told Short we'd come back to Phoenix on the train, Matt," said Chub. "It would be three or four days, after this rain, before we could get over the roads on the motor-cycles. Whoosh! Listen to that, will you?" A tremendous peal of thunder shook the walls of the hotel. "It doesn't rain very much around here, but when it does we get a soaker!"

Just at that moment Matt stepped to the table to put out the light before turning in. He had hardly leaned over the lamp before a pane of one of the windows crashed in and some object slammed against the foot-board of the bed and dropped to the floor. A spurt of wind and rain gushed through the broken window, and the light flared high in the chimney and went out.

"Somebody threw a rock!" yelled Chub, jumping out of bed and darting for the window with a blanket.

As soon as the hole had been stopped, Matt struck a match and relighted the lamp; then he went over to the foot of the bed and picked up a stone the size of his fist.

"Fine business," said Chub, "standin' out there in the rain an' shyin' rocks through a window! Who d'you s'pose did a thing like that?"

Matt, pushing closer into the yellow lamplight, showed Chub the stone: It was wrapped closely with twine, and under the twine was a folded paper.

"It's what we've been waiting for, Chub!" said Matt huskily.