He had felt just as he did then once before. That was the time he had been drugged and taken out of Phœnix to keep him from racing with the Prescott champion, O'Day.
Had he been drugged now? If so, why, and by whom?
By degrees the cool air cleared his befogged brain. He went back over the chain of events, picking it up where he had dropped it.
The queer party of stranded actors—the arrival at Fairview—the escape of Brisco from the hotel—the ride into the hills to look for the boy—the pursuit by the horsemen and the loss of the tin box—all these events dragged through Matt's mind. He and Carl had gone to sleep in the automobile. Why was the car moving? Had Carl, giving rein to some wild impulse, cranked up the car and started for a night ride?
Matt stirred. "Carl!" he called, "what are you trying to do?"
Matt became aware, then, that there was some one beside him in the tonneau.
"Carl, hey?" came a jeering voice, as a strong hand reached over and pushed Matt back in the seat. "Ye got another guess comin'. Thar ain't no Dutchman along, this trip."
"Tuned up, has he?" asked a voice from the front seat.
"Yep; he's got back ter airth, Hank."
"Surprised?" The man in front laughed hoarsely as he asked the question.