"You used that name while I was in the skiff," said Hobbes, "I remember, now. What's your business with Newt Prebbles?"
"I'll tell him that when I see him. It's important. Do you know the man?"
"Yes, I know him. He's a pal of mine and lives with me in the shack."
"That's hard to tell. He won't come back at all if you don't tell me what your business is with him."
"I'll warn him away. You've found out a lot about me, but how much have you told me about yourself? Not a thing. I haven't a notion who you are, and I'm blamed if I like mysteries."
They were close to the cluster of cottonwoods and the shack, and Matt fell silent. The house, as the king of the motor boys could see, now that he was close to it, was built of sod, and had a roof of grass thatched over cottonwood poles. It was in a fairly good state of repair and had evidently been occupied for some time.
The door stood open, and Hobbes stepped to one side to let Matt enter first. It looked like a mere act of courtesy, and may have been no more than that; but, in view of what immediately happened, Matt would have been entitled to suspicions.
Believing the shack to be empty, Matt crossed the threshold. He was instantly seized by some one who threw himself from behind the open door.
With a startled cry, the young motorist twisted around in the strong arms that held him and caught a look at the man's face.
Another moment and all the fight in Matt's nature flew to the surface. Putting forth all his strength, he kicked and struggled until he had freed himself of the broker's grip.
He was no sooner clear of Murgatroyd, however, when Hobbes set upon him. Hobbes had not yet recovered his strength, and Matt would have made short work of him had not the broker come savagely to his aid. Between them Matt was forced to the clay floor of the house and lashed with a rope in such a manner that he was powerless to move.
Murgatroyd, panting from his exertions, lifted himself erect and gave the prisoner a vengeful kick.
"Wasn't expecting to find me here, eh?" he asked. "You've led me a pretty chase, Motor Matt, but here we are at the end of the trail, and I've got the upper hand."
Somehow Matt had fallen under the impression that the police of Bismarck would take care of Murgatroyd; hence, he had left the broker out of his calculations, and this meeting with him in that sod shack was like lightning out of a clear sky.