"The wretched man knows that Goon is following him because he suspects him of knowing where the pearls are, and he going to lead him a fine old dance, up hill and down dale!" thought Fatty, his legs going round and round furiously, and the perspiration dripping into his eyes. "He's either going to tire old Goon out, and make him give up—or else he's going to give him the slip somehow."
Still the three went on and on, and Fatty's clothes stuck to him horribly, he was so hot. Number Three didn't seem to tire in the least, and had a most uncanny knowledge of all the nasty little hills in the district. Poor Mr. Goon went from red to scarlet, and from scarlet to purple. He was in his hot uniform, and even Fatty felt a bit sorry for him.
"Hell have a fit if he goes up any more hills at top speed," thought Fatty, wiping his forehead. "So shall I! Golly, I'm absolutely melting. I shall have lost pounds and pounds in weight soon. Phew!”
Mr. Goon was absolutely determined that he wasn't going to be shaken off by Number Three. He knew that Fatty was behind him, and that if he, Mr. Goon, failed in the chase, Fatty would go triumphantly on. So Mr. Goon gritted his big teeth and kept on and on and on.
A big hill loomed up in front. Mr. Goon groaned from the bottom of his heart. Number Three sailed up as usual. Mr. Goon followed valiantly. Fatty, feeling that this was absolutely the last straw, went up it too.
And then he felt a peculiar bumping from his back tyre. He looked down in alarm. Blow, blow, blow! He'd got a puncture!
Poor Fatty. He got off and looked at his tyre. It was absolutely flat. No good pumping it up, because it would be flat again almost at once—and, in any case, if he stopped to pump it up he would lose Number Three and Mr. Goon.
If he had been Bets he would have burst into howls. If he had been Daisy he would have sat on the bank and shed a few quiet tears. If he had been Larry he would have shaken his fist at the tyre and kicked it. If he had been Pip he would probably have yelled at it and then jumped on it in fury. But being Fatty, he did none of these things at all.
He took a quick look up the hill and caught sight of a triumphant Mr. Goon looking back at him with a grin on his face. Then he and Number Three disappeared over the top of the hill. Fatty waved to Goon.
"I wish you a nice long ride!" he said pleasantly, and mopped his forehead. Then he waited for a car to come along over the top of the hill.