"He must have reached the mine while we were down in the workings, looking for Delray. He saw the two motor-cycles leaning against the wall of the house, and he didn't have to guess very hard to know who was around. The freighter came along just at the right time—for Perry."
"Funny thing to me, Matt, that Perry didn't slash the tires."
"Probably he didn't have any too much time. Besides, he might have thought we could fix the tires, while if the motor-cycles were sent on to Phœnix, we'd be a lot worse off than if we had the crippled machines."
"Hawley's mighty clever—and don't you let that get past your guard for a minute! Whenever he lays out to do a thing, he's right on the job from start to finish. What d'you suppose he's sent Dace Perry out here for?"
"The way I size it up, Hawley wants to get some word to Jacks. Perry must have been on his way to the hills when he stopped off at your place, Chub, and smashed the wireless instruments. The way we got hold of that letter on the bridge has raised trouble with Hawley's plans, and now he's rushing things for a quick finish. That means that we've got to hustle, too, if we save the 'strike' for the McReadys!"
"Well, I guess we can. You're a reg'lar whirlwind, Matt, when you start the gasoline and switch on the spark. I'm not built for rapid work, but I guess I'll do with you for pacemaker. But see here, why didn't we pass Perry on the road? He left Phœnix before we did, and got to the Bluebell behind us—and he had to come the Black Cañon road."
Matt had been thinking of that.
"It's a cinch we had to pass him, Chub," said he, "and we probably did it in the hills this side of the canal. If he saw us coming, it would be easy for him to duck out of the way among the rocks."
"That's what he did!" declared Chub. "He had some reason to expect we'd be at the Bluebell."
"And after helping load our machines into the wagon," continued Matt, "he spurred off to find Jacks and tell him we were on the way with the location notices." A grave look crossed Matt's face. "Something's going to happen at the 'strike,' and we better not stop at the Bluebell any longer than it takes to snatch up our coats."