"If we could have taken that villain with us," fretted Tomlinson when Matt came up with him and Gregory, "we would have had at least one of the gang. Now they'll all go scot-free."
"We've got to think of ourselves, first and foremost," said Matt. "If you and Gregory escape, and you get your car and your pearls, the sheriff can go after the gang."
"But see what they did to me!" went on Tomlinson querulously, opening his dust-coat and showing himself stripped to the shirt. "The rascal I wounded took part of my clothes, my watch, pocketbook, and some personal papers. Then, to throw us into that miserable hovel as though we were dogs? Gad, it makes my blood boil to think of it."
"You might take the pearls," said Matt, and handed him the bag. "If you could travel a little faster——"
"Can't go any faster!" declared Tomlinson. "We haven't had anything to eat or drink for nearly twenty-four hours, and my hands and feet feel like sticks. I'm anxious to know how you managed to get these pearls, King——"
"I'll tell you all about that just as soon as we get to Ash Fork."
Matt's anxiety was intense. He felt sure that Hank was doing something, and the thought bothered him. Tomlinson and Gregory were creeping along, gathering strength with every minute, yet not fast enough to suit Matt.
"I was foolish ever to carry these pearls with me," went on Tomlinson, "but I expected to dispose of part of them to a dealer in Albuquerque, and thought I could take the lot that far in the automobile. How did the robbers know I had them? That's what I can't understand."
"Did you write to Denver that you had secured the pearls and were going to carry them with you as far as Albuquerque?" asked Matt.
"Yes, but——"