where you lost out,"
Clancy returned. "You've got to do this for the sake of your mother, who
thinks so much of you. We've got to allow a little time, you know, for
us to get back on our old footing. I need a change. Ferguson says so,
and I have a feeling that he knows what he is talking about. I---"

A boy came into the office that moment with a telegram. He knew the
motor wizard by sight, and went directly to him.

"This is for you, Mr. Clancy," said he.

Clancy signed for the message, tore it open, read the contents, and
laughed.

"By thunder," he cried, "here's just the thing!"

"What do you mean?" asked Wynn.

"It's a hurry-up call from Hiram Hill. You remember Hiram?"

Wynn winced. "Yes," said he, "I remember Hiram Hill quite vividly."

"He left Phoenix for the coast several weeks ago, carrying on his search
for his father. I always thought that search of Hiram's was more or less
of a joke--and I haven't any positive information yet that it isn't--but
here's a message asking me to come to Los Angeles at once. Hiram says
that he is 'hot on the trail,' and that I promised him to help him find
his father--which is true."

Clancy arose with sudden determination in his voice and manner.

"Wynn," he continued, "I'm going to leave you here to get Clancy & Wynn
started in the old Rockwell garage. It will give you plenty to occupy
your mind. While you're hard at it, I'm going to soldier and have a good
time. Here's where I hit the Happy Trail!"

"What in the deuce is the Happy Trail?" queried Wynn.

"Ferguson will tell you about it. I'm going with Hiram on a wild-goose
chase, and I'm hoping to have some fun. When I come back, old man, I
want you to be feeling differently, and I expect to be feeling
differently myself. This afternoon I am starting for the Pacific coast,
and if Hiram and I, between us, can't stir up a few thrills, and corral
a little enjoyment, then I've got another guess coming. Lafe, I'm for
the Happy Trail, and I'm going to hit it hard!"

CHAPTER III.

HATCHING A PLOT.

"Say, fellows, here's a how-de-do, and no mistake! You ought to have
been at the corner of Sixth and Main about two hours ago. You'd have
seen something that would have made a horse laugh--but there's something
back of it that isn't so thundering funny, at that."

Gerald Wynn could smoke a cigarette and talk at the same time. He burst
into the room in the cheap boarding house, where he and his friends had
taken up th