Originally published: Feb 27, 1909
Genres: Adventure, Children's
Goodreads link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/201416951-motor-matt-or-the-king-of-the-wheel-motor-stories-thrilling-adventure
Gutenberg link: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/46075
Chapters: 16
Warning: This may include outdated and derogatory language and attitudes.
CHAPTER I
BAD BLOOD
"Hello, peaches!"
The girl in the calico dress turned quickly. There was a startled look in her brown eyes, and she drew back a little from the gate.
The laughing words had been flung at her breathlessly by a boy who was trotting along the road—a boy in running togs with "P. H. S." in red letters across the breast of his white shirt. He came from the north, and the girl had been leaning upon the gate and looking south, across the bridge that spanned the canal and led into the town of Phœnix.
"I—I don't think I know you," murmured the girl, a look of repugnance crossing her brown, pretty face.
"Yes, you do," panted the boy, swinging in toward the gate and coming to a halt. "Sure you know me." Catching hold of the gate-palings he steadied himself and grinned in a manner which he must have thought engaging. "Why, you've seen me a dozen times, anyhow. Take another look."
After stealing a furtive glance at him the girl took a step backward.
"I've seen you, yes," she said quietly, "but I don't know you—and I don't think I care to know you."
"Don't jump to conclusions like that," the boy went on with a cool laugh. "You're old McReady's girl, Susie, and I'm—well, right here's where I introduce myself. I'm Dace Perry, captain of the High School cross-country team. Had the boys out for a practice run this morning, and as I'm 'way in the lead of all of them except Clipperton, I reckon I'll linger in this fair spot until they come up. Don't be so bashful, Susie; I won't bite, honest."
"I'm not afraid of your biting, Dace Perry," answered Susie with a flirt of the head. "If all I've heard of you is true, you're more given to barking than anything else."
Temper flashed an instant in the boy's sloe-black eyes, giving an ugly hint of the darker side of his character. When the anger faded an unpleasant crafty look was left on his face.
"You can't believe all you hear, and not more than half you see," he remarked. "Where's Nutmegs? I know him."
"There's no such person as 'Nutmegs,'" answered the girl tartly. "If you mean my brother, Mark, he's in his laboratory down by the canal."
Perry stared a moment, then gave vent to an amused whistle.
"Laboratory, eh? Well, that's a good one, Susie. Where's the reformed road agent? Is he in the laboratory joint, too?"
"No, Welcome has gone into town, but I can call Mark if you—"
"No, don't call him, Susie," interrupted Perry. "I've got something to tell you about Matt King. Say, I thought that would make you open your eyes. I reckon you don't think much of Matt King, eh?"
Vivid color mantled the girl's cheeks.
"Matt is a chum of Mark's and a good friend of mine," she answered, "and everybody says he's the best all-around athlete in the high school. Major Woolford has picked him to represent the athletic club in the bicycle races with Prescott and—"
"King has got to make good at the try-out first," scowled Perry.
"He'll do that, all right," averred Susie. "I guess there's no doubt about his being able to beat you."
"If what I've heard about him is true," continued Perry, "I reckon he won't have anything to do with the try-out, or with the race, either."
Sudden interest flashed on Susie's face. "What have you heard?" she demanded curiously.
So deeply concerned was she in this information about Matt King which Perry professed to have acquired, that she stepped eagerly to the gate.
This was what Perry had been waiting for. Susie McReady had jarred his vanity and his temper several times during their brief interview, and it was his nature to try to "play even." His idea of squaring accounts with the girl was directly in line with his low ideals and his insolent nature.
Leaning forward quickly Perry flung one arm about the girl's neck.
"I reckon you'll know me after this," cried Perry, and attempted to give the struggling girl a kiss.
Unseen by either of the two at the gate, a boy had glided noiselessly toward them on a wheel. He came from the direction of town and, as he crossed the bridge and saw Susie and Dace Perry, an inkling of the situation at the gate darted through his mind, and caused him to put more power into the pedals.
Suddenly the captain of the cross-country team was caught from behind and hurled backward with such force that he measured his length on the ground.
"Oh, Matt, Matt!" exclaimed Susie.
"What's the matter with you?" snarled Perry, quickly regaining his feet. His face was black with rage and he stepped toward Matt with doubled fists.
"I guess there's nothing much the matter with me," answered Matt coolly, "but you're a good deal of a cur, Dace Perry."
"What do you mean by butting in here like that?" fumed Perry, anything but logical now that anger had got the whip-hand of him.
"That's the way I was raised," answered Matt.
"I reckon the way you was raised gave somebody a lot of trouble," sneered Perry.
"Well, you can bet I'm going to give somebody a lot of trouble if Susie is bothered anymore."
"You're swaggering around with a chip on your shoulder all the time, ain't you?"
"Not so you can notice it," laughed Matt, "but you'll always find a chip on my shoulder when fellow acts like you were doing just now."
"Oh, punk!" Dace Perry changed his mind about wanting to fight and backed off down the road. "This isn't the end of our little ruction, Matt King. I'll give you the double-cross yet, see if I don't!"
"So long!" answered Matt.
Perry shook his fist, looked northward along the road in the evident hope of locating some of his team, then turned disappointedly and sprinted for the bridge.
"I was never so glad of anything in my life, Matt," breathed Susie, "as to have you get here just when you did."
"I'm a little bit tickled myself, Susie," laughed Matt, picking up his wheel and standing it alongside the fence, "but I guess Perry won't trouble you anymore."
"I hate him!" cried Susie, stamping her foot. "He's never been a friend of Mark's, nor of yours, either, Matt."
"I guess Mark won't lose any sleep over that, and I know I won't."
"All the same, Matt, you'd better look out for him. A coward who fights you behind your back is more to be feared than a braver enemy who faces you in the open."
"That's a cinch. But let's forget Dace Perry for a while and think of something more pleasant. Where's Chub, Susie?"
Before the girl could answer, a husky voice wafted toward the two from along the road.
"Oh, a bold, bad man was this desperado, An' he blowed inter town like an ole tornado—Ta-rooral—ooral—ay!"
Susie and Matt looked in the direction from which this burst of melody—if such it could be called—proceeded. An old man with a wooden leg was approaching, keeping the tempo of his song with jabs of the pin that took the place of his right foot.
"Here's Welcome Perkins," said Matt, with a broad smile, leaning back against the gatepost and fixing his eyes on the old man.
"He's been to town after something for Mark," returned Susie.
Welcome Perkins, Peg-leg Perkins, otherwise the "reformed road agent," always reminded Matt of a picture out of a comic supplement. He was little, and wizened, and old—just how old no one knew, but it was popularly supposed that he was somewhere around seventy. He had a pair of the mildest washed-out blue eyes ever set in a man's head, notwithstanding the fact that he was constantly asserting that he had passed his early life as a "pirate of the plains"; and displayed with pride an old, played-out six-shooter whose hand-grip was covered with notches—notches that made Welcome sigh and grow pensive every time he looked at them. Welcome averred that he was trying to live down his lawless past, but that his roaring, rampant, untamed disposition made the effort a struggle and a burden.
The old man wore a long and particularly vicious-looking mustache, which he was constantly training upward at the ends in order to make it even more desperate in appearance. His scanty gray locks were allowed to grow long, and they were surmounted with an old sombrero, always carefully whacked into the regulation Denver "poke." His ragged blue shirt was drawn in at the waist with a U. S. Army belt, from which depended on a holster containing the notched and useless weapon already mentioned. Chaparrejos, or "chaps," which, like their owner, had seen better days—or worse and more lawless ones if Welcome's word was to be taken—covered his left lower extremity and all that was left of his right. The right leg of the chaps was cut away at the knee in order to give freer play to the wooden pin.
Silas McReady, the father and sole remaining parent of Susie and Mark, was a prospector, and constantly in the hills. Welcome was an old-time friend of Silas, and for years had been fastened upon the McReady household like a barnacle.
"Howdy, pard!" roared Welcome as he drew near the gate and reached out his hand. "It's plumb good for a ole outlaw like me to grip a honest pa'm. It helps to make me fergit what I was and to brace up an' be what I ort. I'm a horrible example o' what happens to a man when he cuts loose in his youth an' bloom an' terrorizes all outdoors—but I can't begin to tell ye how pacifyin' to my reckless natur' is the grip of a honest hand."
"Then give it a good grip, Welcome," grinned Matt. "I'd hate to have you get turbulent and go on the warpath. If a man of your age—"
Welcome, still holding Matt's hand, allowed his eyes to wander along the road to the northwest. Suddenly the weather-beaten, leathery face grew stern and the faded eyes snapped.
"Scud for the house, you two!" yelled Welcome; "scud! Trouble's a-tearin' down on us out o' the hills, an' here's whar Eagle-eye Perkins, Pirate o' the Plains, gets busy!"
The old man threw himself on Matt and pushed him through the gate. In his excitement, the strap that secured the wooden pin to Welcome's stump of a leg, broken and mended times out of mind, gave way and dropped Welcome into the yard behind Matt and Susie.
The eagle-eyed defender paid no attention to his fall, but as the gate swung shut drew himself up against the palings and jerked his obsolete weapon clear of the holster.
"Put your trust in Eagle-eye Perkins," he called valiantly to Matt and Susie; "if them red demons get at ye they walks over me to do it!"
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