“Well, yes. The man in the garage is known to me, and he’s out for anything that’s got a dollar in it. But what of it?”
The colonel’s plan was based on the information just communicated to him by McGlory. He went into the matter swiftly, but exhaustively, and when he had done the gloom had vanished from Levitt’s face.
“It will work, it will work,” murmured the mining engineer, rubbing his hands.
“Then go and work it,” said the colonel briskly.
[CHAPTER IX.
WHAT AILS M’GLORY?]
Matt King, in a clump of bushes a quarter of a mile north of the Malvern Country Club, watched the road and waited for his chum. He had not much hope that McGlory would join him, for he believed that the cowboy would be held a prisoner by the colonel.
What Matt was doing, in this particular matter, was all for his friend. McGlory had become entangled with a gang of confidence men, who were playing boldly for big stakes. Whether the dishonest game won out or failed, Joe McGlory must have nothing to do with it. If he profited by the crime he would be called on to suffer at the hands of the law; and, even if the law never reached him, his conscience would make him miserable all his life for the part he had played in such a huge swindling scheme.
Matt, at any cost to himself, meant to keep McGlory clear of Billings and his criminal work. What is a friend for if not to stand shoulder to shoulder with a chum and save his good name? This touched upon one of Matt’s principles—one of his rules of conduct long ago formulated and steadily adhered to. And it was a code which had played a big part in his many successes.
Minute after minute slipped away, and then Matt’s heart bounded as he heard a crunch of footsteps around a turn in the wooded road. It might be Uncle Tom who was coming, however, with a report of his failure to deliver the message to McGlory. Peering through the bushes, hoping against hope, Matt’s fears suddenly subsided and an expression of thankfulness escaped his lips.