Meantime, Billy Mac jumped to the running board and piled into the tonneau. He leaned over the back of the front seat. Before he could lend assistance, the two figures came erect, and Clancy shoved Carson bodily over into the tonneau.
“Keep him there, Mac,” he ordered.
“What you going to do?” gasped Billy.
“No time to talk,” said Clancy, jumping to the steering wheel. “Throw a robe over that fellow’s head! Sit on him, you chump!”
Carson, indeed, was rising to the occasion. He had landed in the tonneau on his head and shoulders, and was squirming upright, letting out wild yells as he did so. The peace of the Sabbath was being terribly shattered.
Billy Mac saved the day by adopting Clan’s suggestion. Seizing the heavy blanket that did duty for an auto robe, he threw it over Carson’s head, managed to evade the waving fists, and plumped himself on top of the big fellow.
Carson was forced to the floor of the car, which had leaped into speed under Clancy’s touch. Billy McQuade being a chunky fellow for his age, made no light weight, and Carson’s bellows for help were stifled.
So quickly had it all occurred, that, while Bully Carson must have recognized his assailants, he had been too startled to propound any questions. In fact, he had been hustled about so rapidly that when Billy came down on him he had no more breath left with which to shout.
After a moment Clancy stopped the car on a lonely stretch of road, and told Billy to shove their prisoner out. Billy did not stand on ceremony, but opened one of the side doors and sent Carson tumbling out like a bag of flour.
The big fellow landed in the dust, came to his feet, flung off the robe, and emerged, spluttering with rage.