Stanley R. Matthews

“ Clipperton turned a half-distrustful look on Perry.
"I'm no coward," he muttered. "Man to man. That's the way to settle everything."
"Sure, when you're dealing with a fellow of the right sort. But what's Matt King? Why, Clip, he was afraid of you from the start, and that's the reason he tried to get in his work at long range with the stone."
"D'you think that?" demanded Clipperton huskily.
"No think about it; it's a lead-pipe cinch. When you balance accounts with a fellow like that go after him in his own way." ”

“ He's the only man up there now, you know, Matt. To-morrow night, about this time, I guess you'll be shooting along on the Comet, eh?"
"I'm going to win that race, Chub," answered Matt, with quiet confidence.
"Wish I was as sure of inventing a flying-machine as I am that you're going to beat out O'Day."
"Is that what you're going to do next—invent a flying-machine?" laughed Matt.
"Either that or build an automobile."
"Build an automobile," suggested Susie; "you won't have so far to fall if anything gives out." ”

“ CHAPTER VI. THE TRY-OUT.
"There he is, Jack!" exclaimed Major Woolford, leaning across the railing of the judges' stand and pointing; "that's the youngster I was telling you about. By gad, he's the speediest thing that ever happened when it comes to a bike. Give him a sizing, Jack, and then take off your hat to Young America at its best. You see, I know what he can do, and I'm the one who told Carter to bring him to the track for a try-out. Walks like he was on springs and handles himself without a particle of lost motion—every move decisive and straight to the mark. ”

“ But when Matt thought of the many things on which success hinged, his heart stood still before the very audacity of his thought of winning out.
In the first place, everything depended on the quickness with which a number of intricate details were accomplished in Phœnix—and all these were left in the hands of a girl! True, Susie McReady was a girl in a hundred, quick-witted, and able to hustle in a pinch, but it was not to be supposed that she could do as well as Chub would have done. ”

“ Delray whistled. "Mebby you could do it if you had wings, Matt," said he. "Why, it's nearly two o'clock, and there's twenty long miles between here and Phœnix. That's a deuce of a note. Abducted by Hawley! Thunder! What did he do that for?"
"Let him take your horse," cried Clipperton, sinking down in the shade. "He can make it!"
"Horse?" echoed Delray. "I haven't got a horse. There isn't a horse this side of the Arizona Canal, eight miles away. Give it up, Matt. There'll be bicycle-races after you're dead and gone." ”

“ Even a sliver might cause damage that would stop the Comet's flight. Gritting his teeth Matt speeded up the machine, tore down the slope and took the end of the timber at a bound.
The motor-car was close and he dared not look behind him. Every faculty had to be centered upon that narrow, dangerous path over which he was rushing at perilous speed. He could not see what the cowboy was doing, nor know how a scant forty feet of rope fell short, for the cowboy, past master at throwing the lariat, had leaned forward over the long bonnet and made a cast. ”

“ Perk gave me the idea. If we could take a grain of powder and make it drive a bullet a mile, or ten grains and make it drive a bullet ten miles, we'd have the biggest thing that ever happened. Three men with gatling guns could kill off an army before it got in sight. It's a whale of a notion!"
"You bet it's a whale," agreed Matt. "You'd have so much power back of that bullet, Chub, it would blow the thing that fired it into smithereens—and I reckon the three men who were laying for the enemy would go along with the scraps, all right." ”

“ Susie grabbed him and, in her excitement, landed an ecstatic kiss on his dusty face.
"Motor Matt!" she cried, waving the high-school colors. "Now will Prescott High be good?"
"Shade o' Gallopin' Dick!" yelled Welcome, doing an odd war-dance on his wooden pin. "He's my pard, he is! Watch me soothe my turbulent soul with a grip o' his honest pa'm."
Matt was torn from the selfsame grip by Major Woolford.
"You're the boy!" said the major. "No time to lose, for the starter is calling the men for the race. Here's your wheel. No time to change your clothes, but you can peel off your coat. ”

“ Can I ride in this race even if I shouldn't be able to meet the fellow from Prescott when the big event is pulled off?"
"What's the use of jockeying around like that?" grumbled Dace Perry. "What's the use of a try-out if the fellow that makes good don't hold down his end at the big meet?"
Carter was in a quandary, and cast an upward look toward Major Woolford.
"What do you say to that, major?" he asked.
"If we select you to represent the Phœnix Athletic Club in the bicycle-race, Matt," inquired the major, "why can't we count on you to be on hand and see the thing through?" ”

“ At the quarter Matt was the length of his wheel ahead of Perry, and Perry was the same distance ahead of the foremost racer behind him. At the half the distance, so far as Matt and Perry were concerned, remained the same, but the other two racers were hopelessly in the rear.
"Look at Perry work!" rumbled the major. "He's got his back up like a Kilkenny cat on the fence, and I can almost hear him puff clear over here. But that King boy has him beaten to a frazzle. Look at the form of him, will you? Great! Man alive, it's just simply superb!" ”

“ I give you Matt King. A firm friend and a generous foe. Mile-a-minute Matt, King of the Motor Boys! Motor Matt, the best ever!"
Bedlam was at once let loose, and Welcome Perkins made a noise like a menagerie at feeding-time. Matt, raising his hand, kept his friends on their feet.
"I want to give you just one more, pards," said he, "and what Clip said about a 'generous foe' reminds me of the duty. I give you O'Day, Dace Perry, Ratty Spangler and Tubbits Drake. What's the use of holding any sort of a grouch at this joyous time? ”

“ Pop, pop, pop, snapped the motor, the explosions presently coming so fast that they sounded like a dull roar. Off went the exhaust, and Motor Matt slipped down the slope like a brown streak, kicking the dust up behind him.
"He'll win, he'll win!" cried Clipperton. "The men in the motor-car see him. The cowboy is getting into the front seat alongside the driver. They can't head him! Hurrah for Motor Matt!"
Hawley and those with him had seen the sliding streak rushing down from the hill and making for the canal. ”

“ Matt, to whom the major had called the governor's attention, had leaped lightly over the fence that guarded the farther side of the track. Lined up just back of the fence were Susie McReady, Chub and Welcome Perkins. They had come to see the try-out, hoping against hope that something would happen to make Matt change his mind and become a candidate in the bike event. Leaning against the top rail of the fence, Matt stood watching the busy officers of the club and listening to the incessant clamor of the high-school boys.
"'Rah! 'rah! 'rah! Do or die!
Phœnix! Phœnix! Phœnix High!" ”

“ And there was Matt, a prisoner, and twenty miles from Phœnix!
"You seem to be a pretty good fellow," said Matt eagerly, "and why is it you can help Hawley in this cool villainy of his? That bicycle-race means a lot to me! I don't know how much Hawley is paying you to keep me here, but if you will let me go, and give me a few weeks to pay it, I will double the money." ”

“ I reckon there are enough of us, anyway."
"I reckon there are," remarked Chub, his grin broadening dangerously. "All you fellows need is a few feathers to be a whole tribe."
A sharp breath rushed through Clipperton's lips, his muscles tightened, his fists clenched, and the war-look of his savage ancestors swept across his face. Chub's fling had caught him in the old wound.
"Cut it out, Chub," muttered Matt; "Clip's not responsible for this."
Perry also said something in a low tone to Clipperton. The latter's face was still black and relentless, but he held himself in check. ”

“ Matt would have welcomed the chance to make Clipperton his friend, for he believed there was more real manhood in the quarter-blood than in Perry and all the rest of his followers put together. The question with Matt now was, should he carry his trust in Clipperton to the limit, and go on to the appointed place where he expected to find him alone?
Matt King was absolutely fearless. Whenever he believed in a thing he always had the courage of his convictions. ”

“ He was there to do the work Hawley had paid him for, and nothing could swerve him from what he believed to be his duty.
Apparently not caring to have any further conversation with Matt, the cowboy began walking back and forth in the room, whistling to himself and now and then humming a snatch of song. Finally he sat down, picked up his coiled riata and began braiding the brushy end of the rope and overlaying it with twine.
The minutes passed. For a time Matt tried to count them, his heart all the while growing heavier and heavier. This was a time when it was hard indeed to be a "good loser." ”

“ Everybody in the school knew about Clip's rabbit's foot. He had carried it the year before when he had beaten Vance Latham, the Prescott champion, in the mile race.
"What about that?" asked Matt, wondering what the luck-bringer had to do with the affair at the track.
"You know how the grand stand is built, out at the park," pursued Chub. "Any one can get under it and look out onto the track between the board seats. If any one wanted to, he could climb the timbers, rest the barrel of a revolver on a board and make a good shot at any one on the track. ”

“ Welcome pulled at the mended strap and got the wooden leg back in place; then he picked up the old weapon and Matt helped him to his feet.
"It must be awful," said Matt, with a sly look at Susie, "to have the disposition of a Royal Bengal tiger and forced to keep a muzzle on it all the time."
"Tur'ble," answered the old man with a gruesome shake of the head; "I can't begin to tell ye how tur'ble onhandy I find it oncet in a while," and with that he started off toward the back yard.
"Welcome is as jolly as a show," laughed Matt. "It's a mighty good thing that old pop-gun of his is harmless. ”

“ There's only one chap in school who could shoot like that, and he's the only one, aside from Dace Perry, who'd try to do you any dirt. You know who I mean—Tom Clipperton."
"That's mighty slim evidence for a charge against Clipperton, Chub," said Matt gravely. "Don't be rash."
"Rash!" muttered Chub. "You don't want to shut your eyes to what Clip can do, Matt. He's never been more than half-tamed, and has a standing grouch at everybody on account of his blood. ”

“ The major was president, and the governor an honorary member, of the Phœnix Athletic Club.
"Protégé of yours, major?" inquired the governor, striking a match.
"Not much, Jack," answered the major. "I don't believe in protégés, favorites, or any other brand of humbug that leads to the door marked 'pull.' Give me a young fellow that stands on his own feet—the kind that does his own climbing, Jack, without wasting valuable time looking around for some one to give him a boost. That's the sort of a chap Matt King is. Just keep your eye on him." ”

“ The mass of compact machinery would have been puzzling to a boy who knew nothing about gasoline motor-cycles, but Matt's sparkling eyes went over the beautiful model part by part.
"It's one of the latest make and not being generally sold, as yet," explained the major, still smiling at the unfeigned pleasure the sight of the mechanical marvel was giving Matt. "Notice the twin cylinders? Seven horse-power, my boy. Think of that! Why, you could scoot away from a streak of lightning on that bike. ”

“ Clipperton's eyes snapped and sparkled. He had been born to champion forlorn hopes, and certainly this idea of Matt's was desperate enough to make the biggest kind of a hit with him.
"Great!" he muttered breathlessly. "If you win it will be the biggest thing on record. Won by wireless, and a jump of twenty miles on the Comet. Fine! Motor Matt, Mile-a-minute Matt, King of the Wheel. Say, you're a wonder." ”

“ Everybody calls me King, and I came by the name fairly enough, but for all I know Brown, Jones or Robinson would hit me just as close."
"You're King, all right," declared Chub, with a touch of admiration and feeling, "king of the diamond, the gridiron, the cinder path, the wheel and"—Chub paused "the king of good fellows, with more friends in a minute than I've got in a year."
"And more enemies," added Matt, gripping hard the eager hand Chub reached out to him.
"A chap that don't make enemies is a dub," said Chub. "We've got to be hated a little by somebody in order to keep us gingered up. ”

“ Through the open door of the garage Mike was rolling a span new motor-cycle!
Motors were Matt's hobby. Anything driven by a motor had always appealed to him, but motor-cycles and motor-cars captured his fancy beyond anything and everything else in the motor line. ”

“ Delray rattled the key and the flashes quivered back and forth between the balls, jumped off the lightning-rod tip at the top of the derrick and darted in every direction with the swiftness of thought. ”

“ Matt was "stumped." The longer Hawley talked the more astounded Matt became. Just what Hawley wanted to do with him the boy did not know, but he gleaned enough to understand that he'd have to turn his back on a whole bunch of cherished "principles" if he fell in with the gambler's desires.
"I guess you've got into the wrong pew, Mr. Hawley," remarked Matt. "I haven't any desire to help you shake plum-trees, and if I ever went into racing for a business you're the last man I'd pick out to see me through."
"Ain't my money as good as anybody else's?" flared Hawley, losing some of his amiability. ”

“ From the minute a chap is on his mark till he comes in a winner, he has to use his brains as well as his heels. Now, King, if you and I hook up, it's a professional I'm going to make you; see? You'll go in for big things and shake the biggest plum-tree. My idees o' what's right and proper, though, have got to govern. You're a young hand, while I cut my teeth on a hand-book at the Sheepshead races. I become your manager, right from the snap of the pistol, and I begin by keepin' you out of small-fry contests. You can't race in the Phœnix-Prescott meet. ”