"You've got two motor-cycles in the back of your wagon," said Matt, keeping wary watch of the freighter, "and they belong to my chum and me. What business have you got taking them off?"
"Belong to you, eh? Well, I reckon not. Young Perry told me they belonged ter him an' a pard o' his, an' he tucked a dollar bill inter my hand fer takin' 'em ter town."
Matt was astonished at this piece of information.
"Where did you see Perry?" he demanded.
"I don't know as I got ter palaver with you, but I don't mind sayin' that young Perry was on a hoss clost ter the house on the Bluebell as I come by. He stopped me an' told me ter take in the machines, jest as I was tellin' ye. Now, drop them bits, or thar's goin' ter be trouble."
"Say," called Matt earnestly, "you've been fooled. Perry don't own those machines, but was—-"
"Perry's a friend o' Hawley's, an' Hawley is a friend o' mine," roared the freighter, "an' I'm takin' his word agin' your'n. Git away from thar. Last call!"
Matt did not get away. A second more and the whip-lash leaped at him between the heads of the leaders. Quick as a flash he ducked to one side, and the lash snapped harmlessly in the air. Then, as the lash flickered for an instant on the neck-yoke, Matt executed another quick move. Reaching out, he caught the end of the writhing whip firmly, and gave it a jerk, in the hope of pulling it out of the freighter's hands.
What happened was more than Matt had expected.
The whip did not come away, but the freighter was toppled out of the wagon-box and took a header earthward alongside the off wheel-horse.