[CHAPTER VIII.]
THE RIFLED CACHE.
"Tough luck!" exclaimed Chub, looking over Matt's shoulder and reading the message. "It never rains but it comes down in buckets."
"It is tough, and no mistake," said McKibben. "I'm anxious to give Clipperton every chance, but he's his own worst enemy, and everything goes against him. Why, here I'm in starting on a wild-goose chase into the hills, looking for that rifled cache where Clip says he dug up the gold! Jump in, Matt, I want to take you with us. You, too, Chub; get into this other seat with me, for I'm not going to do the driving myself when there's such a crack chauffeur as Motor Matt along."
McKibben changed his seat, and Chub climbed in. Matt walked around to the other side.
"What time is Clip's examination, Mr. McKibben?" he asked.
"Four o'clock this afternoon."
"I want to get back before the bank closes and in time to hire a lawyer."
"I expect to get back here by eleven o'clock."