CHAPTER XXVI—WE ARE PURSUED
Grove and I hiked along to Lurin. It was pretty dark and we had to be mighty careful for about half a mile, because the road ran right close to the cliff, but when we once got over the top of that hill, the going was easy.
We found a service station there and left our battery and got another one. By the time we got back and Harry got everything connected up all right, it was daylight.
He had to run that machine mighty careful for a ways, because we were pretty close to the edge. We could look down and see that place below good and plain in the daylight. We could see the trail, too, and just how everything was, and it seemed funny that any of us could ever have got lost down there. That shows the difference between day and night. But anyway, I like night better on account of camp-fire. Only I don’t like home work. I like the middle of the night best of all, but I like the two ends of it, too. I like one end on account of breakfast, and the other on account of supper. The reason I like the middle of the day is on account of lunch. June is my favorite month, because that’s when my birthday is, and one thing, I’m glad there’s a week between Christmas and New Year’s, because on account of holidays. I wish there was a week between Thanksgiving, but anyway, that hasn’t got anything to do with that automobile trip. I just thought I’d tell you.
It was dandy to see the sun coming up that morning—that’s one thing I like about the sun. But, oh, boy, weren’t we hungry! Grove and I sat on the back seat with Ragtime Sandbanks (that’s the name we gave him) sitting up between us. He was all nice and dry by that time. He looked as if he didn’t have any sense. Harry says that’s the way it is with movie stars. Cracky, that fellow’s all the time knocking the movies. I guess he does it just to get Pee-wee started.
Let’s see, where was I? Oh, yes, now comes a peachy adventure. Remember how I told you that Grove and I had Ragtime Sandbanks sitting up between us? Well, pretty soon, after we had got down to level country and were making the speedometer earn its board, I happened to look around and, good night, there was an automobile coming along lickety-split, about a quarter of a mile behind us.
“They’re breaking the speed laws,” I said.
“Believe me, they’re smashing them all to pieces,” Grove put in.
Harry didn’t bother about them, just kept her rolling along at about twenty per, when all of a sudden we heard the people in that car shouting at us to stop.
“You don’t suppose it can be Brent Gaylong and his patrol, do you?” I asked.
Harry said, “No, they’re waiting for us up in the woods by this time.”
“It’s a flivver,” Grove said.
“Some nerve; a flivver calling to a Cadillac to stop,” I said.
“Are we going to get arrested now?” Skinny sung out in that funny high voice. Gee whiz, you could hardly blame him, after all the crazy things that had happened.
Harry said, “Maybe, but I couldn’t promise you. Perhaps so, if you’re good.”
We just kept running along about the same as before; Harry wouldn’t bother to stop and he wouldn’t bother to go faster. And all the while that other machine came zig-zagging and rattling along pell-mell, with the men in it shouting for us to stop.
Pretty soon, good night, there was a shot!
“Huh,” Harry said, all the while stopping the machine; “looks like business; I guess we’re pinched.”
“That shot went over our heads,” I said, “they didn’t mean to hit us.”
Harry said, “No, but they meant to scare us and make us stop; I wonder what we’re up against now.”
All of a sudden a thought popped into my head. “Hurry up,” I said to Grove; “let’s throw Ragtime Sandbanks out and they’ll think they killed him. Throw him out so he’ll go down that bank beside the road—quick!”
In about a jiffy out went our old college chum, Ragtime Sandbanks sprawling kerflop on the edge of the road and kerplunk down into the ditch where there was water running.
“So long, old pal!” I shouted after him; “you died in a good cause.”
“Victim of an assassin,” Pee-wee said.
“He landed in the water,” Grove said.
“How can you land in water?” Pee-wee wanted to know, all the while craning his neck out of the car. “He sank,” he shouted; “I don’t see him.”
“End of The Cowboy’s Revenge,” Harry said; “what do you suppose will be the next act in this interesting comedy?”
“I think we’re pinched,” I said.
“What did we do?” Grove wanted to know.
“Who committed this murder? It wasn’t any of us,” I said.
Harry just sat there with his arms on the wheel, looking around and waiting for that car to catch up with us, and laughing.
“I wish Brent was here,” he said; “I think we’re going to have some fun. This is right in his line.”