It was half an hour after they left Phœnix when they crossed a new plank bridge over the Arizona canal, fifteen miles out.
"They weren't long getting another bridge over the canal," observed Chub, as the machines left the planks and started up a gentle slope beyond. "That was one bridge, Matt, you came pretty near not crossing, even when you got to it."
Chub referred to the time Motor Matt was racing for Phœnix to take his place in the bicycle contest. A hireling of Hawley's had blown up the bridge in front of the Comet, and Matt had been obliged to cross the chasm on a narrow stringer.
From the canal it was only five miles to the Bluebell Mine, and the distance was rapidly covered. As the boys drew close to the derrick, the ore-dump, and the little house where the watchman usually kept himself, they slowed down their machines and looked around expectantly. There was no sign of life about the place.
"Probably Del's in the shack, gettin' his dinner," hazarded Chub. "I guess we could take time to eat a little something ourselves before we go on to the 'strike,' eh, Matt?"
"Del's not getting dinner, Chub," answered Matt, coming to a halt and slipping out of his saddle. "There's no smoke coming out of the chimney, and that means there's no fire in the stove. I'll bet a picayune against a last year's bird's nest that Delray isn't here."
"Hang it all!" returned Chub, leaning his machine against the wall of the house, "he's the watchman, an' he's got to be here. We'll investigate."
They went into the house. The door had not been locked, but there was no sign of the watchman in the cabin's single room.
"He can't be far away," averred Chub, "or he wouldn't have left the door like that."
"Whether Delray's here or not, Chub, that doesn't cut much of a figure with our work," said Matt. "We know where we want to go and how to get there."