An odor of boiling coffee and sizzling bacon floated up from down-stairs.
"What I was saying, mate," answered Ferral, "was some sort of a while ago. I've had my jaw-tackle stowed for an hour, letting you do the shut-eye trick. But now it's about mess-time, I reckon; and, anyhow, those friends of Sercomb's are here from Lamy. Listen!"
The chug of a motor on the low gear came to Matt. Getting up, he looked out of a window that commanded the front of the house.
A car was coming slowly along the blind trail from the road, following the same course the Red Flier had taken the night before.
As the automobile drew closer, Matt gave a startled exclamation.
"Some new kink in the yarn, Matt?" queried Ferral.
"I should say so!" answered Matt. "That's the same car that was in the road last night——"
"What?" demanded Ferral, grabbing Matt's arm.
"There's no doubt of it, Dick," said Matt; "and the three in the car are the same ones Sercomb met and talked with. Two of them, of course, are the handy-boys who blew in here and roughed things up with you and Carl."
The car came to a stop in front. Just then the front door opened and Sercomb rushed out.