CHAPTER X.

  A CHALLENGE.

  For several days Matt pondered over that queer talk he had had withDirk Hawley. All he could make out of it only left him more mystifiedthan ever. It seemed certain that Hawley had mentioned putting Mattinto training for big racing-events merely as a ruse to get him toDenver. The gambler wanted to keep him out of the Phoenix-Prescottrace, and was willing to spend $500 in order to do so. But what was hisreason?

  Even though Dirk Hawley had plenty of money he would not let go of$500 unless he expected to get value-received for it. There was apossibility that, as a friend of Dace Perry's, Hawley wanted to getMatt out of the race in order to give Perry a show. However, Perrywould hardly spend $500 in order to win a $250 motor-cycle; andcertainly the gambler would not put up the money for him. It all lookedvery dark and very mysterious to Matt.

  The gambler's threat did not bother him in the least; and he was soself-reliant that he did not take the matter of Hawley's visit to themajor. Had he, at that time, the remotest inkling of what Hawley'sreal purpose was, he would have acted differently and told the majoreverything. But when this knowledge came to Matt, events happened whichmade it impossible for him to go to Major Woolford and lay bare thegambler's scheme.

  Although Perry had beaten O'Day, the Prescott rider, in thebicycle-race the year before, and Matt knew very well he could beatPerry, yet Matt was taking no chances. O'Day was working hard and, itwas said, had developed phenomenal speed. In order to make assurancedoubly sure, Matt went into active training at once. The majorfurnished him a good racing-wheel, and morning and evening he was outwith it.

  A youngster named Penny, who was in his first year at the high school,had a one-cylinder motor-cycle, and Matt got him to act as pace-maker.Every afternoon Penny and Matt were at the track. For his morning spin,Matt went out alone.

  Perry, also, was taking hold of the practise-work in vigorous style.He was out as much as Matt was, and often Matt saw Hawley's motor-carsetting the pace for him.

  Perry did some remarkable stunts in the wake of that six-cylindermachine. Results were more spectacular than valuable, however. With thebody of a big touring-car to split the air and act as a wind-break, itwould have been strange if Perry had not made a good showing.

  For his training Matt dug out of his trunk the leather cap, coat andleggings for which he had had no use since leaving the motor-factoryin Albany. This cumbersome clothing hampered him somewhat, but he knewthat if he could do well in that he would be able to work much betterwhen stripped for the contest with O'Day.

  "Perry has taken to practise just as though he was to be the big highboy in that bicycle-race," remarked Chub. "He was only second choice,and what's he working so hard for when he knows you're going to holddown the Phoenix end against O'Day?"

  "Probably he wants to be fit for the race of his life in case anythinghappens to me," said Matt.

  "Well, you take care that nothing happens to you, Matt," cautioned Chub.

  During all this time Matt saw very little of Clipperton. Whenever theymet, which they were bound to do occasionally, Clipperton threw backhis shoulders and scowled blackly. Ratty Spangler, Tubbits Drake and afew more of Perry's friends not only kept their hostile attitude towardMatt, but influenced some of the other students to come over to theirside. But Matt was not lacking for friends. Splinters formed himselfinto a committee of one and passed around a true version of the affairby the canal. Splinters, of course, knew nothing about the matterof the rock, but he knew enough to turn the best boys in the schoolagainst Perry.

  The Prescott Athletic Club, with several hundred Prescott rooters,was to come to Phoenix by special train on Saturday forenoon. On theafternoon of Friday, the day preceding the "big meet"--as all loyalPhoenix and Prescott people called the athletic event--Matt got backfrom the track to find a letter waiting for him on the table in hisroom.

  Mrs. Spooner explained that she had found the missive pushed under thefront door, and hadn't the least idea who had left it. Matt stared whenhe opened the letter and began to read. It was from Tom Clipperton, andwas very much to the point.

  "MATT KING: You think you're a better man than I am. I'll give you another guess. We can settle our differences in one way. Man to man. Come alone to the place where you threw me into the canal. Make it 9 o'clock to-night. Either I'll give you the worst thrashing you ever had, or you'll give one to

  "TOM CLIPPERTON.

  "P.S.--There's a moon."

  "It's a challenge," muttered Matt grimly. "I don't want to fight thefellow--it will only make a bad matter worse. I'll have to, though,unless I can talk with him and tell him a few things he'll believe.Clip is not half bad at heart, and if he'd only get rid of some of hisfoolish notions, and stay away from Perry, he'd make a mighty goodchum."

  Crumpling up the note, Matt threw it into a waste-basket.

  "I'll have to give him a licking, though, if he won't have it any otherway," he added under his breath.

  The McReady home was only a little way from the place of meetingselected by Clipperton. It was about half-past seven when Matt leftMrs. Spooner's, intending to call on Chub, and leaving in time to meetClipperton on the bank of the canal at nine.

  Chub and Susie were at home, but Welcome Perkins was in town,taking his part in the general excitement preceding what was to bea red-letter day in the annals of Phoenix. Chub was in front of hiswireless apparatus, for the accommodation of which a corner of thekitchen had been set apart. Flashes were coming brightly in thespark-gap between the two brass balls of the home-made apparatus.

  Chub had begun his experiments in message-sending with an ordinarytelegraph-instrument, which he had manufactured himself. One end of thewire had been in the laboratory and the other in the kitchen. AfterSusie had learned the code, and was able to operate the key, Chub usedto take fifteen minutes wiring his sister for something which he couldhave gone after in almost as many seconds.

  Following the telegraph-instrument came experiments in wireless work,in conjunction with an old telegraph-operator who was watchman atthe Bluebell Mine, twenty miles away. Many weeks passed before Chubfinally got his materials together, and assembled the instruments anderected the necessary wires at home and at the Bluebell. Delray, theoperator-watchman at the Bluebell, helped Chub as much as he could atthat end of the line, and Matt was constantly called upon for advice asfailure succeeded failure. Now, for the first time since he had begunoperations, Chub was in extended communication with Delray, and hisdelight as he worked the key and the sparks flew between the terminals,was scarcely to be measured.

  "Bully!" cried Chub, as he sat back in his chair, "this is the firsttime the Arizona ether has ever been stirred up like Del and I aredoing it now. I asked him if he wasn't coming to the fun to-morrowafternoon. Let's see if he got it."

  Chub had hardly finished speaking before the sounder began to click.Chub bent forward with an eager, satisfied look on his face, and Susiestood with bowed head reading the message as it came through.

  "He can't come," said Chub; "says he'd give a good deal to see Mattbeat O'Day, but that there's no one to relieve him, and he'll have tostay at the Bluebell. He's the only man up there now, you know, Matt.To-morrow night, about this time, I guess you'll be shooting along onthe _Comet_, eh?"

  "I'm going to win that race, Chub," answered Matt, with quietconfidence.

  "Wish I was as sure of inventing a flying-machine as I am that you'regoing to beat out O'Day."

  "Is that what you're going to do next--invent a flying-machine?"laughed Matt.

  "Either that or build an automobile."

  "Build an automobile," suggested Susie; "you won't have so far to fallif anything gives out."

  Just then Chub thought of something he wanted to say to the Bluebelland jumped for the key. Matt talked with Susie for a little while, butkept quiet about his expected meeting with Clipperton. When he left,he proceeded the length of the front walk and passed through the
gate,in order to give Susie, who was watching him, the impression that hewas going back to town. He could turn back along the canal just belowthe bridge, and so come to the place where Clipperton would be waitingfor him. On his way to the canal he most unexpectedly ran into WelcomePerkins, who was burning the air in the direction of home.

  "Whoop!" cried Welcome fiercely, "it's a wonder ye wouldn't look whereye're goin'--runnin' inter a one-legged ole pirate like a cyclone.Where's yer eyes, anyway? Think I ain't got nothin' else to do but----Shade o' Gallopin' Dick! Why, if it ain't Matt King--jest the veryfeller I wanted to see. There's the horriblest thing a-goin' on, pard,ye most ever heard of! I got so heathen mad I come purty nigh fallin'from grace, drorin' ole Lucretia Borgia an' damagin' every one insight. Nobody knows what a rip-roarin' ole fury I am when I cut loose,or----"

  "What's on your mind, Welcome?" said Matt, trying to pin the old mandown to more facts and less language.

  "That's what I'm a-tellin' ye," fluttered Welcome. "Rushed around toMrs. Spooner's--fine ole lady, Mrs. Spooner, but she's scart of me.Soon's she saw who it was a-rappin' on the door she screams frightful,an' wouldn't talk with me till I'd got off the porch." Welcome sniffedplaintively. "That's what a blood-curdlin' past'll do fer a man. Don'tyou never turn into a hootin', tootin' road-agent, Matt, or----"

  "I'll turn into something worse than that," broke in Matt, "if youdon't tell me what you're trying to. Now, then, make another start."

  "Mrs. Spooner she says you ain't there, an' I reckons ye've gone tosee Chub," went on Welcome, "so off I comes this way. Whisper," hesputtered in Matt's ear, excitedly, and drew him close to the fenceat the roadside. "This is so tur'ble it won't bear tellin' above yerbreath."

 
Stanley R. Matthews's Novels