The man slipped in his clutch. They were in the act of gliding off when there was a tremendous report. They stopped short. The man jumped down and looked at the back tire.
“Blow-out,” he remarked laconically.
Quest frowned.
“How long will it take?”
“Four minutes,” the man replied. “I’ve got another wheel ready. That’s the queerest blow-out I ever saw, though.”
The two men leaned over the tire. Suddenly Quest’s expression changed. His hand stole into his hip pocket.
“Tom,” he explained, “that wasn’t a blow-out at all. Look here!”
He pointed to the small level hole. Almost at once he stood back and the sunshine flashed upon the revolver clutched in his right hand.
“That was a bullet,” he continued. “Some one fired at that tire. Tom, there’s trouble about.”
The man looked nervously around.