Chapter XI: 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.