“If it isn’t it’s a good imitation of one,” was the answer, accompanied by a laugh. “Come, now! Look lively!”
One of the men came around to the side of the auto and grabbed Bob by the arm. At the same time another of the tramp trio attempted to seize Jerry. Ned was in the rear seat.
“Let go of me!” exclaimed Jerry, striking at the man who had climbed up on the step of the machine. The boy’s blow fell on the man’s arm.
“Oh, that’s your game, is it?” cried the ruffian. He drew back his fist as though to fell Jerry.
“Help! help!” yelled Bob. He was being pulled from the car by the tramp who had grabbed him. It looked bad for the Motor Boys.
Ned sprang up from the rear. He had been fumbling in a valise on the floor of the tonneau. He leaned forward over the front seat. In each hand he held some object, bright and shining, and he aimed them full in the faces of the two tramps on either side of the auto.
There was a sharp, hissing sound, a click, and the air was filled with a pungent odor.