[CHAPTER IV.]
MATT EXPLAINS TO M'GLORY.
Joe McGlory sat in front of the Gladstone House wondering what had become of his pard. Matt had been gone from the hotel for three hours, and when he left he thought he would be back in an hour. Just as McGlory had made up his mind to go bushwhacking around the town, in the hope of picking up his pard's trail, the king of the motor boys turned the corner, carrying a telescope satchel, and walking rapidly.
"Thought you were lost, strayed, or stolen, Matt," sang out McGlory. "What have you got there?" he added, his eyes on the grip.
"A flying machine," laughed Matt.
"Speak to me about that!" gasped the cowboy. "Has it come to this, pard, that every man can tote a flying machine in his grip, then unpack, and hit a trail through the clouds whenever he takes the blessed notion? Go on!"
"It's only a model," went on Matt. "Come up to our room, and I'll tell you about it."
"Let's sit in at grub pile first. The dinner gong was pounded half an hour ago, and I'm as hungry as a buck Injun on a diet of cottonwood bark."
Matt took the satchel into the dining room with him, and kept it between his feet all the while he was eating.