“What’s the matter; got a puncture?”
“There might be,” answered Jerry cautiously, which was perfectly true. There might have been, only there wasn’t.
The tall lad began a careful examination of the front wheel. He turned it slowly around, and his face wore a puzzled air.
“I had a puncture myself, one day,” went on the official, “an’ it took quite a while to find it.”
Jerry did not reply. He went to the tool box, and got a wrench. Then, when he was applying it to one of the lugs that held the tire in place, the tool slipped from his hand, and went some distance across the dusty road.
“Oh, hang it!” exclaimed the lad, as if in distress, and he held one hand in the other, as though he had hurt himself. Ned and Bob, in the tonneau, looked on anxiously.
“I’ll get it for you!” cried the constable, desirous to be of some service. Probably he was in a hurry to get his prisoners arraigned, and fined, so he could collect his share.
The man with the big badge hurried across the road to where the wrench had fallen. For an innocent wrench it had traveled quite a distance, Ned thought.
No sooner was the man’s back turned that Jerry, with a quick motion, sprang into the car. His hand sought the spark lever and swung it over. The car could be “started on the spark” once it had been running for some time, and this was one of those times. In an instant the welcome explosions sounded, and, a moment later, Jerry threw in the clutch. Forward shot the auto, the jack under the front wheel offering scarcely any obstacle. It was left lying in the road while Jerry, throwing in the second speed, was soon far down the road, leaving a much-astonished constable staring after the auto and its occupants.
“Here you! Come back here!” he yelled. “That ain’t fair to git away that way! It’s a trick! Come back here!”