Chub had no suspicion as to what sort of a hard fight lay ahead of them, or he might not have been so sanguine of success.
[CHAPTER V.]
A DISAGREEABLE SURPRISE.
Penny's motor-cycle was a one-cylinder machine, and not a very late model. It weighed as much as the Comet, which had two cylinders and twice as much horse-power. Matt's machine, however, was the very last word in motor-cycle construction. In a pinch, it could streak along at sixty-five miles an hour, or, on the low gear, would do five just as readily. It was somewhere between these two extremes that Matt had to travel in order to let Chub keep alongside, but at no time were they doing less than a mile every two minutes.
A highway known as the Black Cañon road led to the Bluebell Mine, and by taking a cross-thoroughfare shortly after leaving the house the boys whirled into their direct course. It was about eleven o'clock when they started, and they were planning to make their first halt with Delray at the Bluebell.
"You could double the pace, Matt, if it wasn't for me," said Chub, leaning over the handle-bars and opening his machine up for all it would stand. "This thing-a-ma-jig of Penny's ain't in the same class with yours."
"Oh, well, it's not so bad for a back number," answered Matt. "We're doing our thirty miles an hour just now, and I guess that's plenty. We'll make the Bluebell easily by noon," he added, cocking his eye at the sun.
"I hope nothing has gone wrong with dad since he wrote that letter," went on Chub, after a brief silence. "He's able to take care of himself, so far as Bill Jacks is concerned, but if Hawley sends any roughs out there, something is sure goin' to happen."
"I don't believe in crossing any bridges before you get to them, Chub. We'll just push hard for the place where your father made his strike, and hope for the best."