"They made me chase a red touring-car," said Henry, "kept a gun poked into my ribs all the time an' said they'd blow holes in me if I didn't do the right thing. What they thought was the right thing, and what I thought, was some different, but guns was trumps an' they had the best hands. First time we chased the red car the machinery of the runabout went wrong, and the other machine got away from us. Came pretty near getting shot, then, as the strong-arm boys thought I'd made the runabout go wrong a-purpose.
"When we got ready to do some more scorching, the other car had given us the slip. We kept chasing around, and finally dipped over a divide into that east road, a couple o' miles beyond the Fork. By and by we stopped at a place where a feller called Spangler got out and lost himself in a swale. Hank and me jogged on to where the west road come into the other trail, an' turned back along that course. We was to pick up Spangler on the new road, after he'd done something or other, I don't know what.
"Well, unexpectedlike, we sighted the red car. That was our signal to whoop it up, takin' Spangler in behind on the fly. Then we had a race an' no mistake. It would have been our race, too, if the young fellow in the red car hadn't busted a bottle in the trail and spoiled a tire for us. Say, that was the slickest move I ever saw made!
"It took us half an hour to get on a new tire, and by that time, of course, the red car was safe in Ash Fork. Hank made me give him lessons in handling the runabout, then told me to go home and say that he and Spangler liked the machine so well they was going to keep it."
The cattleman swore roundly; and likewise declared that he'd spend the price of a new car getting the old one back.
Tomlinson remained in Ash Fork for two days, recovering from his trying experiences. And when he finally went on to Albuquerque he went by train. As for the Red Flier, the arrangement he had made to have the car taken on developed in a conversation he had with Matt a few minutes before he got aboard the steam-cars.
Matt was at the station with Tomlinson and Gregory, for both were going to Albuquerque by train.
"Here's what I owe you, Matt," said the Denver man, pressing a roll of bills into the young motorist's hand. "A thousand dollars, and I call it cheap, considering the great service you rendered me. The Red Flier will have to come on to Albuquerque, but I don't care to travel with her myself, and I want Gregory to go with me. I'll give you an extra hundred, Matt, if you'll bring the car through. I shall be in Albuquerque for some time, and you can jog along at your leisure. What do you say? If you have anything else on hand, and feel that you can't do it, don't hesitate to say so. Henry, Nugent's driver, will take the Red Flier to Albuquerque, if you can't. But, frankly, I'd rather trust the car in your hands."
"I'll do it," said Matt. "You see, I want to get to Denver myself, and I'll be able to get over a long lap of the run on the trip."
"Good!" exclaimed Tomlinson, with a look of relief. "You're going to Denver, you say?"