"I guess we understand each other, Clip," said Matt. "How far away is the Bluebell?"
"At the end of this valley. Hurry. You've got to get to Phœnix in time."
"I don't see how I can, even with a horse."
"You can. You must!"
They made their way down the valley as fast as they could, Matt's benumbed limbs slowly regaining their strength, and Clipperton keeping up by sheer force of will. From time to time they gazed behind them, but they could see nothing of the cowboy. If he was looking for them he was evidently searching in the wrong direction.
"How did you find out where I had been taken, Clip?" queried Matt.
"Tubbits Drake knew," replied Clipperton. "I went to him early this morning. I made him tell me. Then I started. It was a long twenty miles. I had to wait at the hut until the man went away. If he hadn't gone when he did he would have had to fight. Perry, Drake, Spangler and three men furnished by Hawley captured you. They were hiding by the canal all the time, Hawley's motor-car brought you out here. Hawley wasn't with it. He sent his driver. I was a fool. But I know a few things now."
By the time Clipperton had finished, he and Matt had come to the end of the valley. Rounding the base of one of the hills an ore-dump broke into view, surmounted by a derrick. From the top of the derrick swung one of the aerial wires of Chub's wireless telegraph-line.
A few yards from the foot of the derrick was a small house. A man in his shirt-sleeves sat tilted back in a chair in the shade. He was watching the two boys curiously as they hastened toward him.
"Hello, neighbors!" he called, when they had come close. "Kind of queer to see a couple of lads loose in these hills on foot. What are you—— Jumping Jerushy!" the man suddenly exclaimed. "If it ain't Matt King! Why, I thought——"