Every time he made a move he seemed to feel the vibration of the twenty-horse-power motor sending queer little shivers through his body.
What was the matter with him? he asked himself. Could it be possible that he was going to be on the sick list?
He remembered crawling into the same big brass bed with the mosquito-bar canopy, and then he dropped off into dreamless sleep.
When he came to himself he was pleased to find that his brain was clear, and that he could move around without feeling the vibrations of the motor.
His health was first class, after all, and he never had felt brighter in his life.
While he was dressing, McGlory and Lorry came into the room.
"What you going to do with that check, pard?" asked McGlory.
"I'm going to cash it, divide the money into three piles, give one pile to you, one to Ping, and keep the other for myself," said Matt.
"Don't be foolish, Matt," implored the cowboy. "A third of two thousand is more'n six hundred and fifty dollars. What do you suppose would happen to me if all that wealth was shoved into my face?"
"Give it up," laughed Matt; "but I'm going to find out."