The bed of the gully was sandy, but there were no sharp stones or anything else to injure the tires. Proceeding carefully, Matt kept the car headed for the other road.
"I got a bottle of corn-juice in my back pocket," said Pringle, after a while, "and I feel the need of a nip. How about having one, all around?"
"Not for me," returned Matt promptly.
"Und nod for you, neider, Pringle," said Carl. "You vas too mooch oof a feller for der booze, und dot's vat's blayed der tickens mit you."
"How did you come to hook up with Hank, Spangler, and Trymore?" asked Matt.
"If I put you next," replied Pringle, "I expect you to do what you can for me."
"I'll do that—only I want the truth."
"That's what you'll get, right off the bat. I'm down, and you've got the pearls, and Hank and Spang are hot on my trail. I've all to win by putting you wise, and I don't see how I've got anything to lose.
"This Denny Jerome, otherwise Denver Denny, otherwise James Trymore, and some others, is an old pal of mine. We used to turn a knockabout spiel behind the footlights on a little two-by-four Western circuit; but Denny got to selling gold bricks to Jaspers and quit on me. I did a little with him, on the side, but the pace was too swift for my nerve. Denny got jugged, and made a getaway, and a friend told him that Tomlinson had picked up some pearls down in Yuma, and was to bring them back to Denver in his touring-car. That looked like good picking for Denny, and he slid for Brockville, A. T., and sent Hank to Yuma to see whether Tomlinson was really going to tote the pearls along with him or have the sense to put them through to Denver by express.
"Hank's the wise boy, all right, and he not only discovered that Tomlinson was just as foolish as he was made out to be, but picked up the road they were taking from Tomlinson's chauffeur. Hank then took the train for Brockville, Denny sent word to me, and I pulled out to join him and Hank and Spang.