Whether the people of the farming country could have received word concerning the four boys in the old car, and meant to effect their arrest; or mistook them for some other parties who may have been disturbing the peace in that section of the country, Thad and his chums were fated never to learn.
It was quite enough for them to know just then a threatening cloud had appeared above the horizon, and that unless they could fortunately get a quick start out of that particular neighborhood they stood a good chance of finding themselves warmly beset.
CHAPTER VII.
DODGING TROUBLE.
“Gee whiz!” burst out Giraffe, of course using his favorite expression to denote his great astonishment; “why, they must be running to interview us, fellows! And say, I don’t just like the way they’re hollering one single bit. They even act as if they might be real mad!”
“Same old story,” mumbled Bumpus, sinking back into his seat with a look of sudden misery on his round face; “out of the frying pan into the fire. Hardly off with one trouble before we’re taking on a new one! What’s the end going to be, I’d like to know?”
“Thad, how’s it coming on?” asked practical Allan, as he once more leaned over the hard-working mechanic, ready to lend a helping hand if possible, though only one could properly work at a time.
“I think I’m getting it straight now,” came the quick response that gave Giraffe fresh cheer.
“But it’ll be too late in another five minutes,” declared Bumpus, trying to figure just how long it might take that oncoming crowd of German country people to arrive on the scene.
“Less than that, Bumpus,” said Giraffe, better used to judging distances; “three would be the limit. Are we intending to haul off and try to defend ourselves, or do we just throw up our hands and tell ’em we surrender? They’re mostly women and old men, which accounts for ’em not getting over ground faster.”
“Yes, but such women!” echoed Bumpus; “every one looks like a regular Amazon, because they’re so used to working in the fields. Besides, I don’t like the way they handle those pitchforks they’ve been using to handle the hay with. It makes goose-flesh come up all over just to think of having the tines of a pitchfork stuck into me. Guess we’d better call it off, and be good if they surround us.”