“Not to-day!” shouted Jerry, as he increased the speed. “You arrested us by a trick, and we got away by the same means. We’re even. Besides, we weren’t exceeding the speed limit, and you know it,” which was the truth.
The constable, his face distorted with rage, ran to the bushes where he had left his motorcycle, but Jerry knew that long before he could get it out, and in motion, the auto would be so far away that pursuit would be out of the question.
“I guess we’ve seen the last of him,” commented Ned, with a laugh. “That was a good trick, Jerry. I didn’t see what you were up to at first.”
“Was there really a puncture?” asked Bob.
“Of course not,” answered Jerry. “I did that to gain time. Then I threw the wrench across the road, hoping he’d go after it. I knew I could start on three wheels, and that the jack wouldn’t stop us, for I only raised it an inch from the ground. Well, we got out of that all right. Now for the next telegram.”
Their next stop was at Varden, and the town they hoped to hear from was Platville. They found a message awaiting them in the telegraph office. Nervously Jerry tore it open.
“Any news?” asked Ned, anxiously.
“Yes,” answered Jerry. “The message reads: ‘Airship disabled about three miles from here. May be yours.’ Fellows, I guess we’ve run down Noddy Nixon!”