McGlory gathered in the blacksnake, and tossed it to the teamster.
"Sergeant," called the lieutenant to one of the troopers, "you and the rest will convoy the aëroplane back to Totten. If Siwash Charley or any of his gang show up, shoot them on sight."
"All roight, sor," answered the sergeant, touching his cap.
"Ride back with us in the car, lieutenant," suggested Matt. "One of the troopers can bring in your horse."
"I'll go with you," said Cameron promptly.
He dismounted at once, and turned his horse over to the Irish sergeant. He and Matt rode in the tonneau, with Ping, where they could talk to better advantage, and McGlory mounted to the front seat alongside of Black.
"My orders instructed me to be of all the assistance I could to Traquair," remarked Cameron, when they were sliding off toward the hills on the return trip; "so, of course, now that you represent the Traquair interests, I consider it my duty to help you."
"Glad of that, lieutenant," responded Matt. "After I get the aëroplane together I'll not need much help. You see, I've got to learn to run the machine. There's a knack I've got to get hold of."
"You'll get hold of it, never fear. A fellow like you can learn whatever he sets out to."
"But I've only got two weeks," laughed Matt, "and there's a fair chance, according to a good many people, of breaking my neck."