"I'm beginnin' to think that wasn't much of a tip, after all," he grumbled, as he rolled into bed.
"Something may have happened to keep the man who wrote that first note from showing his hand," hazarded Matt.
"Yes," returned Chub, "and something may have happened to him that will keep him from showing his hand at all."
"You mean——"
"Why, that those two roughs who chased us may have taken care of that fellow who wrote the first note. After we got away from them, those scoundrels may have decided to put the other man out of the way. That would keep the fellow from communicating with us, and it's a cinch that's what those handy-boys were afraid of. Matt, I'd be willin' to bet dad's gold-mine against a peck of marbles that we're side-tracked, and won't be able to do a thing for Clip."
"We'll stay here, anyhow," said Matt doggedly, "and see it through. I've got a hunch that something's going to turn up."
"But by stayin' here we may be losing time—and we haven't any time to throw away."
"What could we do if we weren't here?" asked Matt.
"You've got me now. This business is getting on my nerves so that it's hard for me to hold down a chair and wait. Feel like I wanted to be up and moving."
"You can go back to Phœnix, if you want to," suggested Matt, "and watch things there. I can hold down this end, all right."