With that he left the room and vanished around the wall of the hut. Matt could hear his thin-soled, high-heeled boots crunching the sand as he moved away.
It was then that something happened which fairly took Matt's breath. A face appeared in the door--a swarthy face set sharply in lines that suggested a fierce strain and failing strength. Two gleaming black eyes looked in at the boy on the floor. The next moment a dusty form staggered into the room, reeled across the floor to Matt and went down on its knees.
"Clipperton!" whispered Matt, scarcely knowing whether he was awake or dreaming.
Without a word Clipperton began cutting at the ropes with a jack-knife. Slash, slash. It was quickly done, the severed coils falling from Matt's wrists and ankles.
"Come!" breathed Clipperton huskily. "Time is short. The man will be back."
Matt was groggy on his feet. Clipperton, none too steady himself, contrived to support him to the door. Once outside they started hurriedly across the bare hills, Matt speechless with the wonder of it all.
The two boys got out of sight in a swale before the cowboy returned from the spring. Looking back, just before they dropped from view of the _jacal_, they were unable to see anything of the man.
Taking Matt's arm, Clipperton drew him along the swale, then over the western bank of it and into a shallow valley between two low hills.
"It's nearly two o'clock," Clipperton was muttering. "Twenty miles--four o'clock. We'll get a horse at the Bluebell. You can make it if you _ride_."
"Where did you come from, Clipperton?" asked Matt.
"On foot. Didn't dare look for a horse. Afraid they'd find out and stop me."
Matt halted and laid a hand on Clipperton's arm.
"Did you come out here, all the way from Phoenix, on foot, to help me?" he asked quietly.
"Why not?" flamed Clipperton. "I got you into the trouble. I was afraid you might think I knew what Perry and the rest were doing. I didn't. It was a put-up job, but I didn't know until too late. I--I could kill Perry! He told me to write that letter. Said he'd keep his hands off and stay away. You saw how he did it."
Swirling hate poured out with the words. Clipperton was breathing hard and talked in husky gasps.
"You were to do that mile race at two o'clock," said Matt.