"Well, it's five o'clock now, and you had your race along about nine-forty, this morning."
"What's the matter with me?" demanded Matt, in consternation. "I'm not badly hurt, am I? I don't feel as though I was."
"Not a bone broken, and that's the wonder of it. You hit that wagon like an earthquake, they say. You've had the skin scraped off you in several places, but the doctor says you'll be as well as ever in a week—providing there are no internal injuries."
"Well," said Matt, "there aren't any. I'd know it, I guess, if there was."
"I guess you would."
"Heard anything from Phœnix?"
"Got news that will make you feel like a fighting-cock! A telegram got here sayin' that Clipperton has been freed——"
"Glory!"
"McReady got there in time to flash the affidavit of Pima Pete's before the case went to the jury; but the telegram says it wasn't the affidavit that turned the trick so much as the grit and determination of you and McReady in getting the document to Phœnix."
"But Clip's innocent! Everybody's got to know that."