Chapter XV: Cant Phillips, Deserter

The car slammed its way across the bridge over the Pipestem and hustled at a fifty-mile-an-hour clip in the direction of Jessup's.

"There's a schoolma'm that's worth her weight gold bullion," remarked McGlory. "Her uncle must have found out that she told us something, or he wouldn't have scattered after his car like he did."

"Much good it will do him now," chuckled Cameron, "since Ping has robbed the machine of the important plug. For once the broker was careless."

"And to think of him putting a bullet into the aëroplane and bringing it down!" said McGlory through his teeth. "I reckon that spoils the sale to the government."

"It may," returned Cameron, "but all I can say is I'm sorry if it does."

"How we're to find Matt is a conundrum," went on the cowboy. "Turn west from the road to Jessup's and follow the hills. That may be all right, and it may not. Sufferin' horned toads, but all this is gettin' on my nerves."

"Siwash Charley is taking care of Matt----"

"Taking care of him! I can imagine how the tinhorn is doing that. I hope Pard Matt is able to stand it."

Ten miles were covered in short order, and those in the flying car had a glimpse of the aëroplane beside the road.

"It doesn't seem to be hurt much," remarked Cameron.

"It must be damaged considerable, for all that," said the cowboy. "If it hadn't been, Matt would have got away before Murgatroyd could take the girl to Jessup's, pick up Siwash, and then come back and lay him by the heels."

Cameron brought the car to a halt, jamming down on both brakes.

"Ping," said he, "go back and watch the aëroplane. Here's a revolver. Don't let any one tamper with the machine. We'll be along after a while."

Ping was accustomed to obey orders. Without a word he took the weapon Cameron handed to him and got out of the car. The lieutenant threw in the switch and away they went again.

"There's the hills," announced McGlory, after a period of speeding, pointing to the misty blue line of uplifts.

"I believe I'll break from the trail and head straight for them," said Cameron.

"Might as well," assented McGlory. "It's all a guess, anyhow, and that move is as likely to be right as any other we can make."

There were broad marks of automobile tires in the dust. Cameron had been watching them. Although he said nothing about it to the cowboy, yet he turned from the road at a point where another car had made the turn.

Straight for the hills the lieutenant headed, and as they came closer, McGlory suddenly dropped a hand on Cameron's arm.

"Do you hear it?" asked the cowboy excitedly.

"Hear what?"

"Firing. There it goes again."

Cameron heard it, but it was very faint.

"That sounds as though we were going to get next to something," said McGlory.

"And looks like it, too. Isn't that a horse I see against the background of a hill, over there?"

The cowboy looked straight ahead.

"You're right!" he cried. "There's a horse there, and a man farther along. The man's shooting at the face of the uplift. There! Hear that, Cameron? What's he wasting ammunition like that for?"

Cameron did not answer; he was busy looking and listening and running the car.

"Thunder!" exclaimed McGlory, as the scene opened clearer and clearer before his eyes, "there's a hole in the hillside--two holes, or I'm a Piute, for another just opened up."

"And the man's mounting the horse," said Cameron.

"And some one is coming through that hole in the hill. Sufferin' surprises! Why, it's Matt! Look, Cameron! He's pointing toward the man, and saying something. I can't hear what he says, but it's a cinch he wants us to follow the man."

"And it's a cinch we'll do it, too!" cried Cameron. "Pull that other revolver out of my hip pocket, McGlory. Don't use it, though, till I tell you to. The bare sight of it may be enough to bring the man to a halt."

Cameron had turned the car and was plunging across the prairie in hot pursuit of the fleeing horseman. The car was going five feet to the horse's one, and the pursuit was drawing to a rapid close.

"It's Siwash Charley!" announced McGlory.

"I'd about made up my mind to that," said Cameron. "He was shooting at Matt. It looks as though we had arrived just in time, McGlory."

As the car leaped and swayed across the prairie, the cowboy stood up, hanging to Cameron with one hand and waving the revolver with the other.

"Halt!" he shouted.

Siwash Charley turned in his saddle and shook his fist defiantly.

"He's going to fight," said Cameron. "Look out for a shot when we come close. But don't fire yet, McGlory."

"What's the use of waiting?" demurred the cowboy. "It's a wonder Siwash hasn't opened up on us before now."

"We'll run him down in a minute. His horse---- Ah, ha! See that."

Siwash had been giving rather too much attention to the pursuing car and too little to his horse. The animal dropped a foot in a gopher hole and turned a somersault on the dried grass. Siwash shot out of the saddle as though he had been fired from a cannon, caromed across the prairie, and then lay still.

Cameron nearly ran over the scoundrel before he could shut off and clamp on the brakes. The horse, escaping a broken leg by almost a miracle, scrambled to its feet, gave a frightened snort, and dashed on at full speed, stirrups flying.

"Never mind the horse," said Cameron. "Let Jessup have the brute. Siwash is the one we're after."

"He's coming easy," returned McGlory, dropping the revolver on the seat and following the lieutenant out of the car.

Siwash was lying silent and motionless on the ground. Cameron knelt beside him and laid a hand on his breast.

"Is he done for?" asked McGlory.

Cameron shook his head.

"Stunned, that's all. If we had a rope----"

"The only thing we've got in the way of a line is the piece of string Ping tied around our lunch bag," broke in McGlory, picking the weapons out of Siwash Charley's pockets. "These are no good," he added, after a brief examination. "Every cartridge has been used. Let's load Siwash into the tonneau, Cameron, and I'll agree to keep him quiet until we can get to where Matt is waiting for us."

Between them Cameron and McGlory lifted the huge bulk of the unconscious ruffian and deposited him, none too gently, in the rear of the car. The cowboy climbed in beside him, and the lieutenant cranked up, took his seat, and started back along the foot of the hills. Matt greeted them cheerily as they drew up at the door of the dugout.

"How are you, pard?" whooped McGlory.

"Bruised a little and mighty hungry, but otherwise all right. How's Siwash?"

"In need of a rope, Matt," said Cameron. "Have you got one handy?"

Matt ran into the dugout and picked up part of the rope that had been used to secure him to the chair and the cot. With this Cameron and McGlory made Siwash Charley secure before his wits returned, thus avoiding a possible struggle.

As soon as this part of the work was finished, the cowboy sprang from the car and gripped Motor Matt by the hand.

"You've had a rough time, pard," said he, "and something of a reverse, if what we've learned is true, but you're stacking up pretty well for all that. What sort of a place is this, anyhow?"

"It's Phillips' old rendezvous," said Matt.

"Phillips?" echoed Cameron. "Do you mean Siwash Charley, Matt?"

"No one else."

"Have you any proof of it?"

"Wait a minute."

Matt ran into the dugout and presently reappeared with the suit case.

"Chance threw that in my way," said he, "and, by trying to save it for you, Cameron, I very nearly got myself into more trouble than I could manage. Look at these initials." Matt pointed to the letters "G. F." on the end of the stained and mouldy grip. "This must be the very satchel, don't you think," he added, "that the drummer received by mistake, over in Devil's Lake City?"

Cameron was so amazed he could not speak. Taking the suit case from Matt, he opened it up on the ground. It was not locked and opened readily.

There were stained and mouldy documents inside--blue-prints, tracings, and pages of memoranda.

Cameron rose erect and stared down at the satchel's disordered contents.

"There's no doubt about it," he muttered. "This is the identical suit case that Captain Fortescue carried across the lake with him that day it was supposed he started for St. Paul, and----"

A call came from the wagon.

"What you fellers roughin' things up with me fer? Murgatroyd has got somethin' ter say ter you. When you hear that you'll be lettin' me go."

"He's still hazy," said Matt. "He doesn't remember what's happened."

They all stepped to the side of the car and looked down at Siwash Charley where he lay helpless on the tonneau seat.

"Murgatroyd," said Cameron sternly, "has already told us what he had to say."

"Ye kain't do nothin' ter me fer takin' keer o' Motor Matt," rambled Siwash Charley. "I treated him white, an' he'll tell ye the same thing."

"That's not what we've captured you for," went on Cameron. "You're a deserter, and your name isn't Siwash Charley, but Cant Phillips. You're for Totten, my man, and a court-martial that will probably land you where you won't be able to break the law for a long time to come."

Then, for the first time since his senses had returned, Siwash Charley appeared to understand all that his capture meant.