"That's my intention."
"What are you going to do there?"
"Something with motor-cars—I can't tell just what, at the present time."
"You'd make a good driver for a racing-car. You've got nerve, and steadiness, and presence of mind. How'd you like a job of that kind?"
Matt's eyes sparkled.
"That would suit me right down to the ground, Mr. Tomlinson," said he.
"Then I think I can help you. A friend of mine is a manufacturer of automobiles, and I know he's looking for a good driver for his racing-machines. If you say so, I'll write him from Albuquerque."
"I'd be obliged to you if you would, Mr. Tomlinson," returned Matt.
"All right, then. You can count on me to give you a good recommendation."
Just then the train came along, Tomlinson and Gregory shook hands with Matt and Carl, and were soon pulling out of Ash Fork.