"Have I strung you any, so far?" protested Pringle.
"It vas all righdt, so far, aber somet'ing mighdt come oop farder on. Hey, Matt?"
"That's right, Carl," answered Matt. "We'll keep him a prisoner until we find Tomlinson."
This road, like the one they had left, angled about through the hills. They passed one vehicle—a buckboard with two passengers—going in the other direction.
The horses attached to the buckboard were not used to automobiles, and shied badly. Matt slowed to a stop while the driver of the team was going past.
"Seen anything of another automobile, mister?" called Matt.
"Nary, I haven't," answered one of the men, "although I hear Lem Nugent, o' Ash Fork, has been blowin' himself fer one o' the things."
The horses danced past on their hind legs, and Matt started up again.
"There's the Fork," announced Pringle, a few minutes later, nodding his head toward the left. "This is as near as we come to the town."
They were forging along rising ground, just then, and the huddle of buildings that represented the town lay below them, and about a mile away.