Mr. Dixon brought his car to a stop directly behind Dorothy’s coupe.
“Before we do anything, I want to hear exactly what happened, dear. You scared your fond parent out of a year’s growth when I caught sight of you waving that light in the middle of the road!”
“Poor old Daddy.” She threw an arm about his neck. “You weren’t half as frightened as I was. Those men were pelting down the road behind me and—”
Her father broke in. “Well, they seem to have disappeared now. Let me hear the beginning.”
In a few short sentences, Dorothy told him.
“So you see,” she ended. “There’s nothing more for us to do about it, I guess, except to put some gas in my tank, and go home.”
“Wait a minute. Hand over that flash, please.” He opened the door and with an agility surprising in so large a man, sprang into the wet road and ran toward the gap in the wall.
As he ran, Dorothy saw a light flash in his hand. Then he went out of sight behind the wall but she could still see the gleam through the bushes. Presently he came back to where she was standing beside the car.
“Vamoosed!” He tossed the flash onto the seat. “As there’s no car on the road ahead they must have beat it over the field. I wonder why they didn’t hold you up when you’d stopped for those red lanterns? Strange. Also, why do you suppose they switched on your lights?”
“It’s beyond me. Well, Daddy, if you’ll pull alongside we’ll siphon the gas. This place and the rain and everything gives me the shivers. Let’s talk it over when we get home.”