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  MOTOR STORIES

  THRILLING
  ADVENTURE

  MOTOR
  FICTION

  NO. 4
  MAR. 20, 1909

  FIVE
  CENTS

  MOTOR MATT'S
  RACE

  THE LAST FLIGHT
  OF THE COMET

  _By STANLEY R. MATTHEWS_

[Illustration: "I've got it, pard!" shouted Chub, snatching the letter
from Motor Matt's fingers.]

  _STREET & SMITH,
  PUBLISHERS,
  NEW YORK._




  MOTOR STORIES

  THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION


_Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered according to
Act of Congress in the year 1909, in the Office of the Librarian of
Congress, Washington, D. C., by_ STREET & SMITH, _79-89 Seventh Avenue,
New York, N. Y._

  No. 4.       NEW YORK, March 20, 1909.        Price Five Cents.




MOTOR MATT'S RACE

OR,

THE LAST FLIGHT OF THE _COMET_.

By the author of "MOTOR MATT."




CONTENTS


  CHAPTER I. TROUBLE ON THE ROAD.
  CHAPTER II. THE STAMPEDE.
  CHAPTER III. CLIP'S NOTE.
  CHAPTER IV. M'KIBBEN'S TIP.
  CHAPTER V. A VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCES.
  CHAPTER VI. THE PRIDE OF TOM CLIPPERTON.
  CHAPTER VII. LAYING PLANS.
  CHAPTER VIII. THE RIFLED CACHE.
  CHAPTER IX. THE BREAK IN THE ROAD.
  CHAPTER X. PRESCOTT.
  CHAPTER XI. MATT MAKES A NEW MOVE.
  CHAPTER XII. THE OLD HOPEWELL TUNNEL.
  CHAPTER XIII. QUICK WORK.
  CHAPTER XIV. STEAM VERSUS GASOLINE.
  CHAPTER XV. IN COURT.
  CHAPTER XVI. CONCLUSION.
  THE TENNIS-GROUND MYSTERY.
  MAKE QUEER CATCHES AT CAPE COD.
  COLD FIRE.




CHARACTERS THAT APPEAR IN THIS STORY.


  =Matt King=, concerning whom there has always been a mystery--a lad
  of splendid athletic abilities, and never-failing nerve, who has won
  for himself, among the boys of the Western town, the popular name of
  "Mile-a-minute Matt."

  =Chub McReady=, sometimes called plain "Reddy," for short, on account
  of his fiery "thatch"--a chum of Matt, with a streak of genius for
  inventing things that often land the bold experimenter in trouble.

  =Welcome Perkins=, a one-legged wanderer who lives with Chub and his
  sister while their father prospects for gold--Welcome is really a
  man of peace, yet he delights to imagine himself a "terror," and is
  forever boasting about being a "reformed road-agent."

  =Tom Clipperton=, known generally as "Clip," a quarter-blood, who is
  very sensitive about his Indian ancestry.

  =McKibben=, the sheriff who has both nerve and intelligence.

  =Fresnay=, a cowboy who performs some mighty queer stunts.

  =Pima Pete=, an Indian to whom Clip is related.

  =Hogan=,         }
  =Leffingwell=,   } two deputy sheriffs.

  =Short=, a lawyer.

  =Burke=, sheriff of an adjoining county.

  =Jack Moody=, an engineer friend of Chub.




CHAPTER I.

TROUBLE ON THE ROAD.


"Ye're afeared! Yah, that's what ye are! Motor Matt's scared, an' I
never thought ye was afeared o' nothin'. Go ahead! I dare ye!"

An automobile--a high-powered roadster--was nosing along through the
hills a dozen miles out of the city of Phoenix. The vehicle had the
usual two seats in front and a rumble-seat behind--places for three,
but there were four piled aboard.

Matt King was in the driver's seat, of course, and equally, of course,
he had to have the whole seat to himself. On his left were Chub McReady
and Tom Clipperton, sitting sideways and wedged into their places like
sardines in a can. In the rumble behind was the gentleman with the
wooden leg--Welcome Perkins, the "reformed road-agent."

Matt was giving his friends a ride. The red roadster, in which they
were taking the spin, was an unclaimed car at present in the custody
of McKibben, the sheriff. It had been used for lawless work by its
original owners, and had fallen into the hands of the sheriff, who was
holding it in the hope that the criminals would come forward and claim
it.[A]

[A] See MOTOR MATT WEEKLY, No. 3, "Motor Matt's 'Century' Run; or, The
Governor's Courier."

McKibben and Motor Matt were the best of friends, and McKibben had told
Matt to take the red roadster out for "exercise" whenever he felt like
it. Directly after dinner, that day, they had started from the McReady
home in Phoenix. It was now about half-past one, and they were jogging
at a leisurely pace through the foot-hills.

Welcome, on account of his wooden leg and the necessity of having
plenty of room, had been given the rumble-seat. He was standing up most
of the time, however, leaning over the back of the seat in front of
him, and telling Motor Matt how to drive the car.

That was the third time the old man had ever been in an automobile, but
to hear him talk you'd have thought there wasn't anything about the
machine that was new to him. His constant clamor was for more speed,
and Matt had no intention of taking chances with a borrowed car when a
leisurely pace was entirely satisfactory to himself and his two chums,
Clip and Chub.

"Oh, slush!" grunted Chub, as Welcome leaned forward and dared Motor
Matt to "hit er up." "You'd be scared to death, Welcome, if Matt put on
full speed and hit only a high place here and there. Sit down an' shut
up, or we'll drop you into the road. I wouldn't mind having that seat
of yours myself; eh, Clip?"

"Free kentry, ain't it?" snapped Welcome. "You ain't got no call ter
sot down on me, Chub McReady, if I want to talk. Go on," he added to
Matt; "pull the plug out o' the carburetter an' hit the magneto a lick
jest fer luck."

This was a sample of Welcome's knowledge. Chub let off a delighted yell.

"Yes," he laughed, "an' while you're about it, Matt, strip the
planetary transmission an' short-circuit the spark-plug. Give Welcome
all he wants! Make him sit down, hang on with both hands and bite hard
on his store-teeth."

"When you're running a car that don't belong to you, fellows," said
Matt, "it's best to be on the safe side."

"Sure," agreed Clip. "We're going fast enough. No need to rush things."

"Ye're all afeared!" taunted Welcome. "Snakes alive, I could walk a
heap faster'n what we're goin'. D'ruther walk, enough sight, if ye
ain't goin' any faster'n this. This here ottermobill is an ole turtle.
I hadn't ort ter brag about it, but when I was young an' lawless, I was
that swift I could hold up a stage, then ride twenty miles an' hold up
another, an' clean up the operation complete inside of an hour."

"It wasn't much of a day for hold-ups, either," spoke up Chub gravely.

"Anyways, that's what I done, Smarty," snorted Welcome, "but I didn't
use no ottermobill--jest a plain hoss with four legs."

"Must have had six legs," said Clip. "Couldn't have gone that fast on a
horse with only four."

"Now _you_ butt in," snarled Welcome. "Goin' to put the clutch on the
cylinders, Matt," he added, "an' advance the spark a couple o' feet? If
y'ain't, I'm goin' to git out an' walk home. It's only five hours till
supper, an' we must be all o' twelve miles from town."

"You see, Welcome," explained Matt, with a wink at Chub and Clip, "it
wouldn't do to put the clutch on the cylinders, for I'd strip the gear;
and if I advanced the spark more'n a foot I'd burn out the carburetter."

"D'ye reckon I didn't know that?" demanded Welcome indignantly. "Why,
I kin fergit more about these here ottermobill's in a minit than some
fellers knows in a year. But, say! What's that thing off to the side o'
the road? Looks like a Gila monster."

All three of the boys turned their eyes swiftly to the roadside. The
next instant Welcome had leaned far over, gripped the long lever at
Matt's side and shoved it as far as he could.

They had been on the low gear; that put them on the high with a jump,
and the red roadster flung madly ahead.

Matt shifted his eyes from the side of the road just in time to see
Welcome sail out of the rumble, turn a half somersault and land,
astonished, in a sitting posture in the road.

Both Chub and Clip had had a scare, the sudden plunge of the machine
having made them grab each other, and they only missed going over the
side by a hair's breadth.

As quickly as he could, Matt brought the lever to an upright position
and pressed the primary foot-brake.

"The old freak!" shouted Chub, as the car came to a halt. "He came
within one of putting the lot of us overboard. If he had two good legs,
I'm a farmer if we wouldn't make him walk back to town for that!"

"If he don't agree to sit quiet in the rumble and enjoy the scenery,"
said Matt, "we'll make him walk, anyway. I won't allow any one to mix
up with the machinery as long as I'm doing the driving."

Welcome must have received quite a jolt. For a second or two he acted
as though he were dazed; then he slowly gathered in his hat, got
upright and shook his fist at those in the car.

"Dad-bing!" he yelled. "Ye done it a-purpose, ye know ye did."

"Well, what do you think of that!" muttered Chub.

"Ye jest coaxed me out in that ole buzz-wagon ter hev fun with me,"
ranted Welcome. "Wonder ye didn't break my neck, 'r somethin'. I
hit the trail harder'n a brick house, an' if I wasn't as springy as
injy-rubber I'd hev been scattered all around here like a Chinese
puzzle."

"Come on, Welcome!" called Matt. "But you've got to keep still and keep
away from the machinery if you want to ride with us."

"Wouldn't ride in that ole cross between a kitchen stove an' a hay-rack
fer a hunderd dollars a minit!" fumed Welcome. "I've stood all I'm
a-goin' to. Ye've stirred up my lawlessness a-plenty, an' I'm goin' to
hide out beside the road an' hold up the Montezuma stage when it comes
through. Ye'll hear about it to-night, in town, an' then ye'll be sorry
ye treated me like ye done. If ye got bizness any place else, hit yer
ole gasoline-tank a welt an' don't let me detain ye a minit."

Rubbing the small of his back and muttering to himself, the old man
started along the road in the direction of town.

"Let him walk a spell," said Chub in a low tone. "He wants us to coax
him to get back in; let's make him think we're taking him at his word."

"All right," laughed Matt, who knew the eccentric old man as well as
anybody, "we'll lag along into the hills for a mile or two, and then
come back. I guess Welcome will be glad enough to get in by that time."

Chub got out and scrambled into the rumble. The machine took the spark
without cranking and the red roadster started off.

"So-long, Perk!" shouted Chub hilariously, standing up in the rumble
and waving his hand. "Tell Susie, when you get home, that we'll
straggle in by supper-time."

The old man never looked around, but the way he stabbed the ground with
his wooden pin showed how he felt.

Perhaps half a mile from the place where Welcome had left the car the
boys met a horseman riding at speed in the direction of town. The man
drew rein for an instant.

"Turn around!" he yelled; "p'int the other way! Can't ye hear 'em.
Thar's a stampede on, an' a thousand head o' cattle aire tearin' this
way like an express-train! Listen! If ye don't hike, they'll run right
over ye!"

Startled exclamations escaped the boys. The cowboy's manner, quite as
much as his words, aroused their alarm.

The trail, for several miles in that particular part of the hills, was
walled in on both sides by high, steep ground. This made a sort of
chute of the road, so that those in charge of the cattle would not be
able to get ahead of them and turn them.

Having given his warning and done what he could, the cowboy used his
spurs and dashed on. At that moment a rumble of falling hoofs reached
the ears of the boys, accompanied by the _click, click_ of knocking
horns and a frenzied bellowing.

"Turn 'er, quick!" whooped Chub.

But the command was unnecessary. Motor Matt with a firm hand and a
steady brain, was already manipulating the red roadster, backing and
forging ahead in order to get faced the other way in the cramped space.

Meanwhile the ominous sounds, which came from around the base of a hill
where the road described a sharp bend, had been growing in volume.

Just as the roadster jumped away on the back stretch the cattle began
pouring around the foot of the hill.




CHAPTER II.

THE STAMPEDE.


It was the custom of the ranchers to keep their cattle in the hills
until they were nearly ready for market, then drive them down into Salt
River Valley, turn them into the alfalfa-fields and let them fatten
before shipment.

This herd of lean, brown cattle, wild as coyotes, had been started for
the grass-lands of the valley. Very little was required to start a
panic among them, and this panic had hit them at the very worst place
possible on the entire drive.

With heads down, tongues protruding, foam flying from their open
mouths, and horns knocking, the frenzied animals hurled themselves
onward. Even if the sight of the automobile had frightened them, there
could be no turning back for the leaders of the herd, pressed as they
were by the charging brutes in the rear. And, of course, the character
of the roadside, at that point, prevented any turning out or scattering.

All that lay between the boys and destruction was the speed of the car.
If a tire blew up, or if anything went wrong with the machinery, the
tidal wave of cattle would roll on over the car and its passengers.

"We're in fer it, fellers!" shouted Chub, who was in a good position to
note the full extent of the danger.

There was no hanging back on Motor Matt's part. He was on the high
speed, and caressing the throttle-lever as he steered.

"We're leaving 'em behind!" announced Clip. "Keep it up, Matt."

The red roadster was not only leaving the frightened herd behind, but
was coming up with the cowboy, hand over fist.

"We'll have to slow down!" called Matt, between his clenched teeth,
his flashing gray eyes straight ahead; "if we don't, we'll run over the
man on the horse."

Just then they turned a bit of an angle that gave them a glimpse of
Welcome Perkins. Faint sounds of the uproar behind had reached the old
man. Planted in the middle of the road, he was staring back, wondering,
no doubt, why the horseman was tearing along at such a rate of speed,
and why the red roadster was letting itself out on the back track. But
the old man was not kept long in doubt. Through the haze of dust back
of the automobile he saw the plunging cattle.

The next moment he went straight up in the air with a terrified yell
and made a dash for the side of the road. As fate would have it, the
road at that point was hemmed in with banks too steep to be scaled;
nevertheless, Welcome clawed frantically at the rocks.

"Stand whar ye are!" roared the cowboy. "I'll take ye up with me."

Welcome's peril struck wild alarm to the hearts of the boys. They
realized that if they had insisted on the old man getting into the car
he would not now be in that terrible predicament.

In order to get Welcome up behind him the cowboy had to throw himself
back on the bit and bring the horse to a quick halt. He leaned down to
help Welcome up, and Welcome, who was almost as frenzied as the steers,
gave a wild jump and grabbed saddle-horn and cantle. Under his weight,
and the weight of the cowboy, which was temporarily thrown on the same
side, the saddle turned. Welcome dropped into the road, and his would
be rescuer pitched on top of him. The horse, thoroughly frightened,
jumped away and continued his breakneck pace down the road.

Yells of consternation went up from Chub and Clip. Matt had been
obliged to bring the car almost to a halt while the cowboy was trying
to pick up Welcome. The leaders of the stampeding herd had come
dangerously close.

"They're on us!" whooped Chub despairingly; "we're all done for!"

"Not yet," shouted Matt, sending the car ahead toward the place where
Welcome and the cowboy were scrambling to their feet. "Take 'em both
aboard! Quick on it, now, and we'll get away."

The car rumbled up abreast of the two in the road.

"Jump in!" shouted Clip; "hustle!"

Welcome threw himself into the front of the car and the cowboy made a
flying leap for the rumble. Clip grabbed one and Chub caught the other.
By then the foremost of the steers were almost nosing the rear of the
car.

Matt, without losing an instant, threw the lever clear over, and the
roadster flung away like an arrow from a bow, on the high speed; then,
a second later, he opened the throttle and the six purring cylinders
sent the car along at a gait that was double that of the pursuing
cattle.

"Wow!" panted Welcome, who had both arms around Clip and was hanging
to him like grim death. "Keep holt o' me! I feel like every minute was
goin' to be my next! Slow down a leetle, can't ye? If ye don't we'll
be upside down in the ditch! Whoosh! I'd ruther take chances with them
steers than ridin' a streak o' lightnin' like this. Br-r-r!"

Welcome was getting all the fast riding he wanted. The red roadster
whipped and slewed around the curves