"Listen," and the sheriff read the following:
"'Governor: This will certify that Motor Matt delivered your message to me at five minutes of five, of the same day he carried it out of Phœnix. It will also certify that he made the pluckiest and most successful hundred-mile run ever pulled off in the Southwest. You ought to make him your official courier, at ten thousand a year.
Burke.'"
Matt flushed.
"Oh, I don't know that the trip was anything to brag about," said he. "Luck was with me—and the Comet can go."
"Luck and pluck have a way of moving along together," said the governor, taking a roll of bills from the desk and handing them to Matt. "There's your hundred. But for your work, Matt, Burke would have been helpless. I am pleased to say that there'll be a thousand more coming to you just as soon as a few formalities can be attended to. You won't leave for Denver until after that?"
"Had I ought to take that reward-money, governor? I don't feel right about it, somehow."
"Well, bless my soul!" exclaimed the governor. "It's good money, and well-earned."
"What's more, Dangerfield himself wants you to have it," put in McKibben. "It's the queerest situation I ever went up against, governor," he added, turning to Gaynor. "In spite of the fact that Matt captured Dangerfield and brought him in, the boy seems to have made a bigger hit with Dangerfield than with any one else."
"I didn't really capture him, Mr. McKibben," protested Matt. "Dangerfield was coming to Phœnix, anyway."
"Well, he's trying to help you to the tune of a thousand dollars, and you'd better let him. Of course," went on McKibben whimsically, "Sparks and I can use the money if you can't."