ON THE ROAD.
Kneeling beside Klegg, Matt leaned over and held the saturated
handkerchief close to his face. The fumes were strong, and seemed to
strangle him. With a gurgling grunt he shifted his position.
Matt moved the handkerchief and again held it over his face. This time
Klegg sputtered a little, but did not change his position. Evidently
the narcotic was beginning to have its effect. After a moment, Matt
allowed the handkerchief to drop on Klegg's face. He left it there
for two or three minutes and then threw it aside. Klegg was breathing
heavily and seemed to be completely under the influence of the drug.
Catching hold of the blanket on which the man was lying, Matt began to
pull it toward the wall of the niche.
"Chee!" whispered a voice close to Matt's side. "Wot kind of a smell is
dat, cull? Wot yous done to Klegg?"
"I thought you were going to wait outside, Josh?" answered Matt.
"Dat's wot I t'ought, but yous was so long in comin' dat I took de
notion t' come in an' look yous up. Wot's de play?"
"I found a bottle of chloroform in the runabout, and it must have been
out of that same bottle that Brisco took the stuff that put me to
sleep. Thought I'd see how it worked on Klegg."
"Yous is a jim dandy, Matt!" laughed Josh delightedly. "But w'ere's
Brisco an' Spang?"
"They're not here, and neither is the touring-car."
"Tough luck! Yous figgerin' on makin' a getaway wit' de runabout?"
"Yes. We might use that for a quick run to Fairview and get the sheriff
to hunt up Brisco and Spangler. I'll go with the sheriff and use the
runabout. It's a faster car than the Flier, and we may be able to catch
the two thieves before they wreck Mr. Tomlinson's car."
"Yous has got a head on yous, Matt, an' no mistake," said the boy
admiringly. "An' yous pulled all dis off yerself! Well, say, if yous
ain't a winner dis heat yous ought t' be. Dat's right--on de level an'
no stringin'. Dad would like t' have a guy like yous t' work wit' all
de time. An' so would Little Eva, de child wonder. But it's gittin'
daylight, Matt, an' if we're goin' t' pull our freight, let's be at it."
It was already light enough so that they could see without the lamps.
These were extinguished, and then Matt put the tail lamp back in its
place, started the engine and got into the driver's seat.
On the low gear they moved slowly across the bottom of the niche.
Josh was still laughing softly to himself.
"Chee, cull, but I'd like t' be around w'en Brisco an' Spang find dat
Klegg feller!" he chuckled. "Dat would be as good as a circus. Dis is
almost too good t' be true, ain't it?"
"It will be, Josh," replied Matt, "if I can only get back the Red
Flier."
"Dem coves'll be careful o' dat odder machine when dey find dis one has
been took away from dem."
"I know that--providing they find out the runabout is gone before they
destroy the Flier."
Setting the runabout at the bushes, Matt drove through the undergrowth,
Josh keeping the branches out of his face while he attended to the
steering.
"On de road ag'in!" jubilated the boy, as they emerged from the mouth
of the opening and turned to the left.
"All I wish is," answered Matt, "that I knew we were going right."
"Dere's on'y two ways t' go, cull. One's up to'rds w'ere you was
dropped by Brisco an' Spang, an' t'odder's de way we're headin'. It's a
cinch we're hittin' it off about proper. W'ere d' youse t'ink dem odder
mutts went wid de tourin'-car?"
"I'm afraid they took it off to carry out their threat and make junk of
it."
"I hope yous ain't got it right. If dey did dat, it 'u'd put yous in a
bad hole. Yous couldn't make Tomlinson take dis car f'r de odder, could
yous?"
"Hardly. This car belongs to Nugent, in Ash Fork."
Something was rattling about the car, and it got onto Matt's nerves.
Halting for a moment, he located the difficulty. The screw-cap of
the gasoline-tank was loose. Taking a wrench out of the tool-box he
tightened the cap, then dropped the wrench in the rumble and returned
to his seat.
"Yous don't like t' hear anyt'ing rattle, hey?" queried Josh.
"Makes me nervous," laughed Matt. "Now hold onto your teeth, Josh. I'm
going to let her out!"
"De quicker we kin go de better. Let's see how fast de ole gal kin
travel."
They whirled around a turn in the narrow valley. The unexpected was
lying in wait for them, for they came upon Spangler, on foot and
walking toward the niche.
Josh gave a startled yell. Spangler, dumfounded at sight of the
runabout, charging toward him with Motor Matt and the boy in front,
stood as though rooted to the ground.
"Down, Josh!" cried Matt, advancing the spark; "get down behind the
dashboard!"
As Matt spoke he sounded the horn. Spangler climbed out of the way with
more haste than grace, and the runabout dashed past him.
"Yi-yip-ee!" tuned up the boy, waving his hand mockingly. "D'radder do
dat dan git run down, hey?"
"Drop!" yelled Matt, and in a tone that made Josh crumple down between
the seat and the dash.
Bang!
Matt had expected a bullet, and he was not disappointed. But it went
wide.
Bang!
The next one came closer, but still left a safe margin.
There was no more shooting. Wondering at it, Josh rose up and looked
backward.
"Now wot d'youse t'ink o' dat!" he cried. "Wot's dat mug doin' dat for?"
"What's he doing?" asked Matt.
"W'y he's hustlin' a big stone into de middle o' de road. See 'im work!
Chee! Wot's de meanin' o' dat?"
The car whipped around another turn, wiping Spangler and his strange
activities out of sight. Josh dropped down on the seat.
"That's got a bad look," said Matt, coaxing the runabout to a still
faster gait. "We've got to get out of this as quick as we can."
"Chee!" cried the boy, holding to the seat with both hands, "we're
goin' fast enough. Gid-ap! Wow! wot a spurt! Don't let anyt'ing slip a
cog, cull. If de ole benzine-buggy hit a rock an' stopped, I'd go right
on f'r a couple o' miles afore I landed. Oh, wot a clip! We've got de
Cannonball Limited licked t' a frazzle!"
Then they took another turn, the rear wheels skidding and Matt deftly
catching the motor up and sending the car onward. The runabout did not
follow the curve of the road, but made an angling turn--a hair-raising
stunt copied after Oldfield, the daredevil racer.
Josh gave a yell, and came within a hair of being heaved over Matt and
into the road.
Then, with a muttered exclamation, Matt cut off the power, applied the
brakes and quickly reversed, backing for the side of the road.
It all happened so quick that it took the boy's breath.
"Wot's dat fer?" he asked.
Matt was whirling the wheel and starting the car on the back track.
"Brisco is heading us off," he answered--"Brisco in the Red Flier!"
Josh turned to stare along the road.
Matt was right.
Brisco, still a long distance off, was whooping it up in their
direction.
"Wouldn't dat crimp yous?" gasped the boy, awed at the gathering
perils. "Dey've got us f'r fair, Matt! W'y didn't yous keep on an' give
Brisco de go-by?"
"There wasn't room enough in the road to pass!" flung back Matt.
"Dat's w'y Spang was rollin' dem stones in de road! He knew dat Brisco
was comin', and dat he'd git us between him an' de rock-pile. Chee!
We're It, dis time, an' no mistake."
Matt, his face white and set and his gray eyes snapping, was leaning
over the steering-wheel, watching every foot of road as they swept over
it.
"We've got to pass that rock-pile before it gets too big!" said he
through his teeth.
"Den w'ere'll we go?"
"Anywhere, just so we keep away from Brisco. This car is a faster one
than the Red Flier. We can show him our heels at any stage of the game."
They fairly flew, and rocks rushed past them as though hurled by some
giant hand.
"There'll be some danger when we get to the place where Spangler is
waiting, Josh," said Matt. "I'll slow down and you can get out, if you
want to."
"Wot d'youse take me fer?" cried the boy. "I'm wid yous, Matt, win
'r lose. See? Make yer ole play. If Uncle Josh ain't wit' yous at de
finish, den call him a quitter an' mark him off'n yer callin'-list."
Hurling onward, and skidding around the turns, Matt kept straining his
eyes constantly ahead.
Their source of peril was now wrapped up in Spangler. If his pile of
boulders did not block the road completely--if there was a chance for
the runabout to get past the stones, or over them, there was still a
fighting chance for escape.
Half a minute later, as the car reached out for the place where
Spangler had been at work, Matt's heart went down into his boots.
Spangler was nowhere in sight, but he had worked to good purpose.
A few big boulders were cunningly placed so as to make the road
impassable. With a despairing cry, Matt brought the runabout to a quick
stop.