Bascomb started.
"A relative of Pima Pete?" he inquired, turning around.
"What's that to you?"
"Nothing; but it may mean a lot, one of these days, to you and to Motor Matt."
There was a veiled meaning in the words, but Bascomb was full of veiled meanings. Neither Matt nor Clip pressed him for an explanation.
The power of sixty horses was tucked away under the long hood of the roadster. All this energy was under Matt's control. As always, whenever he had anything to do with motors, his delight grew as their headlong rush increased.
Up the slope they dashed, and past the place where Matt and Clip had had their encounter with Jem and the other ruffian. The little adobe at the desert well leaped at them and fell away behind with the swiftness of thought.
Three men and two horses were standing in front of the adobe. One of the men was Gregory. The other two were put to it to keep their horses from getting away. Matt recognized both the horsemen as belonging to Sheriff Burke's posse.
"Do you know those two with the horses?" shouted Bascomb, in Matt's ear.
Matt ducked his head.