“Yes.”
“I understand, now, how you happen to know so much about tubes. They say you’re pretty well up in motors, too. Well, here’s where I give you the job of your life. Matt King, I make you a present of that runabout. Take it—but Heaven help you if you try to run it.”
Thereupon the man whirled around and strode off.
“Oh, I say,” yelled Matt, “you don’t mean it. Wait, and I’ll——”
But the man swung onward, paying no heed to what Matt was calling after him.
Matt King turned and peered in amazement at his cowboy chum.
“Sufferin’ tenterhooks!” exclaimed McGlory. “You’re loaded up with a bunch of trouble now, pard.”
“Come on,” urged Billy, moving toward the touring car with considerable haste. “Don’t lay a finger on that runabout—don’t have a thing to do with it.”
But Matt was face to face with a proposition that caught his fancy. A refractory automobile! Never yet had he encountered a machine that had got the best of him. And this runabout couldn’t do it—he was positive of that.