"All ri'," said Pima Pete suddenly. "You bring um man, me make um swear."
Matt whirled on Chub, his watch in his hand.
"It's five minutes of nine, Chub," said he, speaking hurriedly, "and here's what you're to do. Get on the motor-cycle and rush for Prescott. Send out that notary public who took my deposition—or any other notary you can find the quickest. Have him bring his seal along—don't forget that. We'll meet him at the road that runs along the railroad-track——"
"But what good'll that do?" interposed Chub. "Think I can do all that, come out here, and then both of us get back to the station in time to catch the——"
"Wait!" broke in Matt: "I've got this all figured out. After you start the notary in this direction, leave your motor-cycle at the hotel and go down to the station. If I can get there in time for the train, I will; if I can't, you get aboard, and when you see me along the road have your friend, the engineer, stop——"
"Stop! Jack Moody, with thirty minutes to make up! Why, Matt, he wouldn't stop for love or money."
"Then," and the old resolute gleam shone in Matt's gray eyes, "you stand ready to take Pima Pete's affidavit from me as I ride alongside the train on the Comet!"
"You can't do it," murmured Chub, standing like one in a trance; "you'll be——"
"I can, and I will!" cried Matt. "It's for Clip. Hustle and do your part and I'll do mine!"
Matt's very manner was electrifying. Chub caught his spirit and arose to the occasion in his best style.