"Tubbits Drake knew," replied Clipperton. "I went to him early this morning. I made him tell me. Then I started. It was a long twenty miles. I had to wait at the hut until the man went away. If he hadn't gone when he did he would have had to fight. Perry, Drake, Spangler and three men furnished by Hawley captured you. They were hiding by the canal all the time, Hawley's motor-car brought you out here. Hawley wasn't with it. He sent his driver. I was a fool. But I know a few things _now_." By the time Clipperton had finished, he and Matt had come to the end of the valley. Rounding the base of one of the hills an ore-dump broke into view, surmounted by a derrick. From the top of the derrick swung one of the aerial wires of Chub's wireless telegraph-line. A few yards from the foot of the derrick was a small house. A man in his shirt-sleeves sat tilted back in a chair in the shade. He was watching the two boys curiously as they hastened toward him. "Hello, neighbors!" he called, when they had come close. "Kind of queer to see a couple of lads loose in these hills on foot. What are you---- Jumping Jerushy!" the man suddenly exclaimed. "If it ain't Matt King! Why, I thought----" "I know what you thought, Delray," said Matt hurriedly. "I was abducted from Phoenix last night in order to keep me out of the race. I was being held a prisoner----" "At Pedro Garcia's old _jacal_," interpolated Clipperton. "And Clip, here, got me away," went on Matt. "I have to get to Phoenix by four o'clock." 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 Phoenix. 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." A half-stifled groan broke from Clipperton's lips. Matt and Delray, looking toward him, saw that he had his face in his hands. "What's the matter with him, Matt?" asked Delray. "I've lost the race for King," said Clipperton, lifting his haggard face. "I did it! But I got to him as quick as I could. Perry--I--I----" The words died huskily away on Clipperton's lips and he finished by shaking his fist menacingly in the direction of Phoenix. Matt walked over to Clipperton. "You didn't lose the race for me, Clip," said he, "and I want you to understand that here and now. You were no more to blame for it than the man in the moon. I ought to have----" Matt halted abruptly. In front of him was the derrick, the lightning-rod point of Chub's aerial wire glistening in the sun. He whirled and jumped like a madman for Delray. "Great Cæsar's ghost!" cried Delray, "have you gone dippy, Matt?" "Is that wireless apparatus working?" shouted Matt.