"This here has been a great afternoon, Clancy!" sighed Hiram, sinking back in the car seat and showing his weariness. "We haven't done much toward runnin' out the trail, but we can begin on that again to-morrow."
"I'm running out my own trail, Hiram," laughed Clancy.
"Eh?" returned Hill blankly.
The motor wizard did not explain. His companion, he knew, would not have understood him if he had explained. But Clancy realized that he was more contented in mind than he had been at any time during the last two weeks. Tired though he was, it was astonishing how much better he felt.
"New sights and new scenes," thought Clancy, "do a lot to put new life into a fellow. I'm beginning to wish I had taken this Happy Trail a long time ago."
It was ten o'clock when they walked into the lobby of the Renfrew House. As they stopped at the counter to get the keys to their rooms, Clancy asked the clerk if there was a telegram for him. The clerk thumbed over, a bunch of messages and tossed out one.
"Owen Clancy?" he queried. "There you are."
"I hope it ain't Wynn wirin' you to come back," remarked Hill, with sudden foreboding.
"It isn't from Wynn," said Clancy; "I know that before I open it. I'll bet something handsome it's from the chief of police at San Diego."
"The chief of police? What's he wiring you for?"