Once more Matt fell asleep. When he was aroused again it was by a sound of voices close at hand. He started up quickly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
Morning had come, and in the gathering light he looked through the bushes and off toward the spring. Two men were standing by the pool, one an American and the other a Mexican. They were both travel-stained and looked as though they had been doing some hard riding.
The American was dressed after the fashion prevailing in the hills, and had a couple of revolvers dangling at his hips. Each man had a horse, and the animals looked worn and tired.
Matt wondered who the two travelers could be, for he could not remember having seen either of them among the sheriff's men. As he gave the Mexican more critical attention he was amazed to discover that he was the wood-hauler who had fled from Phœnix at the time McKibben had arrested Juan Morisco.
This was a disquieting discovery, and Matt thought that if he could levant without being seen it would be well for him to do so. The Comet was not far away, and Matt got on his knees and began crawling toward it.
A bit of brush snapped under him, however, and startled exclamations escaped the two men. Matt sprang up, with the intention of making a run for the motor-cycle, but before he had taken two steps, an authoritative voice shouted: "Halt!"
Over his shoulder he could see that the American was pointing a revolver at him. Matt halted, of course. There was no reason in the world why the two men should interfere with him, and now that he had been unable to slip away unnoticed he faced them boldly.
[CHAPTER XI.]
JOE BASCOMB.