Clipperton's eyes snapped and sparkled. He had been born to champion forlorn hopes, and certainly this idea of Matt's was desperate enough to make the biggest kind of a hit with him.
"Great!" he muttered breathlessly. "If you win it will be the biggest thing on record. Won by wireless, and a jump of twenty miles on the Comet. Fine! Motor Matt, Mile-a-minute Matt, King of the Wheel. Say, you're a wonder."
"Not so you can notice it, Clip, not yet. Just now, all I can do is to hope for the best."
For some time they continued on through the hills, finally reaching a high part of the road which gave them a view of a flat stretch of desert leading away to the Arizona Canal.
There were several canals in Salt River Valley and contiguous to Phœnix, all constructed for irrigation purposes. It was the "Town Canal" that ran past the McReady home, and between that and the Arizona Canal there was still another of the artificial streams. The Arizona Canal, however, formed the outpost of the waterways.
Pausing on the "rise," Matt and Clipperton peered across the glimmering yellow sands. A fork in the road lay below them.
"The branch goes to Pedro Garcia's old jacal and beyond," said Clip. "Look!" he added excitedly.
Matt followed Clip's extended finger with his eyes. Off along the branch road, trudging slowly toward the main trail, a distant form could be seen.
"The cowboy!" muttered Matt. At that distance he could not identify the figure, but intuition told him who it must be.