“I’ll never be able to understand how she ran for half a mile without any gas in the cylinders or any spark to cause an explosion,” said Matt, as he came to a stop in front of Krug’s. “Return the rope, Joe,” he added, “and see if you can find the owner of the runabout.” McGlory was gone for ten minutes. When he came back he reported that the man who had cut loose from the runabout was nowhere to be found, and that a fellow answering his description had been taken into a car by a friend and had motored off in the direction of Hempstead. “Then,” said Matt, “we’ll stop thinking about the owner of the car and continue to use it just as though it belonged to us.” They turned south from the Corner and moved away in the direction of Hempstead at a good rate of speed. The runabout kept up its excellent behavior, answering instantly Matt’s slightest touch on steering wheel or levers. “You’ve got the best of her, pard,” observed McGlory. “When you hip-locked with her, after she ran away from Krug’s, you must have poked a wire into something that was causing all the trouble.” “I couldn’t have done that,” answered Matt. “Still, no matter what the reason, the car is acting handsomely now, and we’ll let it go at that. Read that telegram to me again, Joe.” McGlory fished around in his pocket until he had brought up a folded yellow sheet. Opening it out, he read as follows: “‘Meeting of syndicate in the matter of ”Pauper’s Dream“ Mine postponed from Wednesday night to Thursday night. Meet me eleven o’clock Thursday Malvern Country Club, near Hempstead, Long Island. Important. “‘JOSHUA GRIGGS.’” The “Pauper’s Dream” Mine was located near Tucson, in Arizona. It was owned by a stock company, and the cowboy had a hundred shares of the stock. A friend of his, named Colonel Mark Antony Billings, had induced him to invest in the “Pauper’s Dream” when it was little more than an undeveloped claim. Development seemingly proved the claim worthless, and McGlory had been surprised, while he and Matt were in New York, to receive a letter stating that a rich vein had been struck, and that the colonel was planning to sell the property at a big figure to a syndicate of New York capitalists. Random & Griggs, brokers, in Liberty Street, were the colonel’s New York agents, and the meeting of the syndicate was to be held in their office. Two bars of gold bullion from the “Pauper’s Dream” mill had been sent by the colonel to New York, and McGlory had been requested to get the bullion and exhibit it to the members of the syndicate at the meeting. Matt and McGlory had had a good deal of trouble with that bullion, and the cowboy was not intending to take it from the bank, to whose care it had been consigned, until three o’clock in the afternoon. Meanwhile, this telegram from Griggs was taking the boys to the Malvern Country Club; but just why it was necessary for McGlory to talk with Griggs was more than either of the lads could understand.