"For heaven's sake," begged Penny, "beat him in, Matt! The _Comet_ can do it."
"The _Comet_ is going to do it," said Matt, between his teeth.
All three of the boys watched while the motor-car flung itself up the gentle slope toward the cowboy.
"Now!" said Clip, starting up and laying hold of the _Comet_.
They trundled the machine back into the road and Matt got into the saddle and laid hands on the grip-control.
Penny and Clip gave him a shove. _Pop_, _pop_, _pop_, snapped the motor, the explosions presently coming so fast that they sounded like a dull roar. Off went the exhaust, and Motor Matt slipped down the slope like a brown streak, kicking the dust up behind him.
"He'll win, he'll win!" cried Clipperton. "The men in the motor-car see him. The cowboy is getting into the front seat alongside the driver. They can't head him! Hurrah for Motor Matt!"
Hawley and those with him had seen the sliding streak rushing down from the hill and making for the canal. There was a scramble about the motor-car, a frantic cranking-up and jumping start on the high-gear. But it was plain to the two boys on the hill that Matt would pass the forks of the road before the car and its passengers could get there.
"Why did Hawley drop that man off at the bridge?" he fumed. "That's what I can't understand. That man at the bridge spells trouble with a big T. What's Hawley butting into this game for, anyway?"
"He's been plunging on O'Day," answered Clip. "He knows O'Day loses if Matt gets to the park in time. Of course, he wants to stop him. Put two and two together, Penny."
"That's right, Clip," explained Penny. "It's up to Matt, now."
"Leave it to him. The game couldn't be in better hands."
Then, with staring eyes, Clip and Penny watched the two dust flurries. The cloud kicked up by the _Comet_ passed the forks of the road a full minute ahead of the fog raised by the motor-car.
"Three groans for Hawley!" chortled Clip.
"But that man at the bridge," groaned Penny. "He sure is worrying me."
Matt King was on his mettle. Phoenix was sixteen miles away, and he had, as he figured it, forty minutes to get there and make his way to the park. Could he do it? He _could_ and WOULD!
The presence of Hawley in his crack machine added an element of danger, but Matt knew in his soul he could slide away from the motor-car as a jack-rabbit slips clear of a bounding greyhound.