"Matter?" grinned Banks. "Nothin' much, only I'm the sheriff and all you fellows are arrested. You stole this car from Martin's garage in Catskill last night. Jest be peaceable, and everythin' 'll be fine: but try to make trouble and there'll be warm doings."
"Sufferin' Jonah!" laughed McGlory. "Wouldn't this rattle your spurs, Matt?"
[CHAPTER XIV.]
HOW THE TRAP WAS SPRUNG.
Matt remembered that Martin had said the New York man who owned the stolen car had sent telegrams and telephone messages all through the hills. Perhaps, if there was any wonderment to be indulged in, it should have been because McGlory had escaped the officers as long as he had.
The king of the motor boys opened the tonneau door and stood on the footboard, facing Banks.
"You've made a slight mistake, Mr. Banks," said Matt.
"From your point of view," answered the sheriff, "I guess maybe I have. There happens to be five hundred dollars in this for me an' Gridly, though, and we ain't takin' your word for it that there's a mistake. This car answers the description of the one that was stolen, right down to the number."
"This is the car, all right," proceeded Matt, "but we're not the fellows who stole it."