"I'll bring him!" declared Matt, his voice vibrant with feeling. "Prebbles said this business would make or break him; and, as the work is on my shoulders now, it's make or break for me. Come on, Joe!"
He turned from the room, followed by McGlory and Cameron. Out of the post went the three, and down the hill and past the post trader's store, the king of the motor boys saying not a word; but, when the shelter tent was in sight, he turned to his companions.
"It's mighty odd," said he, "how chances to do a little good in the world will sometimes come a fellow's way. Through that rascal, Murgatroyd, I was led into giving a helping hand to Mrs. Traquair; and here, through the same man, I've a chance to help Prebbles."
"And you can bet your moccasins we'll help him," declared McGlory, "even though we lose that circus contract. Hey, pard?"
"We will!" answered Matt.
Ping had cooked himself a mess of rice on a camp stove near the shelter tent. He was just finishing his rations when the boys and the lieutenant came up.
"We're going out in the aëroplane to-day, Ping," announced Matt.
"Allee light," said the Chinaman, wiping off his chop sticks and slipping them into his blouse.
"You and McGlory are going with me," went on Matt.
The yellow face glowed, and the slant eyes sparkled.