"I'm going to cut it mighty short, Chub," returned Matt, "and just give you enough of it so you'll understand how I'm fixed. As long as I can remember, and up to a year ago, I was living with a good old man named Jonas King, in Great Barrington, Massachusetts. I called him Uncle Jonas, although he told me he wasn't a relative of mine in any way; that so far as he knew I didn't have any relatives, and that he'd given me his name of King as the shortest cut out of a big difficulty. He sent me to school--to a technical school part of the time--but never breathed a word as to who I was or where I had come from. When he died"--Matt paused and looked toward the canal for a moment--"when he died he went suddenly, leaving me by will a fortune of a hundred thousand dollars----" "Bully for Uncle Jonas!" ejaculated Chub joyously. "Not so fast, Chub," went on Matt. "A brother of Jonas King's stepped in and broke the will, and I was kicked out without a cent in my pockets. I got a job in a motor factory in Albany, but I hadn't held it down more than a month before I received a letter enclosing a draft for three hundred dollars. The letter told me to come to Phoenix, Arizona, go to school, and wait for further word from the writer, which I should receive inside of six months." Chub's eyes were wide with interest and curiosity. "That sounds like you'd copped it out of the Arabian Nights, Matt," said he. "Who sent you that letter? Some uncle in India?" "It wasn't signed, and the letter was postmarked in San Francisco. The six months went by and I never heard anything more; and now it's nearly a year since I reached Phoenix and I'm"--Matt laughed--"well, I'm about dead broke, and I've got to get to work." "Three hundred dollars can't last a fellow forever," commented Chub sagely. "I always knew there was a mystery about you, but I didn't think it was anything like that. You don't have to knock off your schooling now, though. Just come out to our joint and stay with us. It's worth the price just to trail around with Perk. What do you say?" Chub was enthusiastic. His eyes glowed as he hung breathlessly upon Matt's answer. "You know I couldn't do that," said Matt. "I've rubbed the lamp for the last time, and what I get from now on I'm going to _earn_." He leaned over and laid a hand on his chum's arm. "It isn't that I don't appreciate your offer, Chub, but a principle is mixed up in this thing and I can't afford to turn my back on it." Chub was silent for a space. When Matt King used that tone of voice he knew there was no arguing with him. "You can't break away from Phoenix right away, anyhow," said Chub gloomily. "There's the Phoenix-Prescott athletic meet, and Major Woolford wants you to champion his club in the bike-race. You'll not turn that down. Why, it means as much as two hundred and fifty dollars if you win the race--and the try-out's this afternoon."