"Hurry!" he called.
Jack Moody, on No. 12, was eating up the two miles that separated the Prescott station from that point in the road with tremendous rapidity. The rumble was growing louder and louder.
The notary was using the fountain pen.
"Do you solemnly swear," he asked as he wrote, "that this is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"Ugh!" grunted the dazed Pima Pete.
"Yes or no!" roared the notary.
"Yes!" cried Pete, with a jump.
"There's your pay!" cried Matt. "Put the affidavit in that envelope, and be quick."
The notary had dropped his fountain pen in the bottom of the buggy, had pulled the seal to his lap, and was bearing down on the handle. The train was almost abreast of them, and the horse, tired though he was, made a frantic jump for the opposite side of the road.
Pima Pete rushed for the animal's head. The notary had come within one of going by the board, but he straightened up and tucked the document into the envelope.