[CHAPTER XIII.]
THE RED ROADSTER AGAIN.
Bascomb was ascending the farther slope of the ravine as the Comet reached the bottom. He looked over his shoulder at Matt, then promptly jumped into the rocks and started for Frog Tanks cross-lots. Bascomb could scramble and make headway up the scarred bank, but there was no chance for the motor-cycle to follow.
Nonplussed, Matt came to a halt and waited for Clip to come up with him, wheeling his crippled one-cylinder.
"Tough luck!" said Clip commiseratingly, "But it's a good thing, too. It wouldn't do for you to go to the settlement while those two men are there. They're armed. And there's something in their guns that will go off. How long were you driving the fellow in with that useless piece of hardware?"
"Something funny about that," muttered Matt.
"Did you know the revolver wasn't loaded?"
"No."
"Well, the other fellow didn't." Clip chuckled. "You're the boy to do things. Too bad you couldn't win out on this."
"Wait a minute, Clip," said Matt, "and you'll be as much at sea as I am. Bascomb knew that gun wasn't loaded."