“You’ll be lucky if you both keep out of jail,” answered Sam Rover, pointedly. “Carrying liquor around like that is prohibited, and you know it. I advise you to get out of the business and stay out.” Jack’s uncle turned to those with him. “Come on, and we’ll see if we can catch up to your Uncle Tom.”
As the Rovers and Ruth left the vicinity of the accident the two men watched them narrowly. On the face of Billings there was a look of dismay, while Ferguson appeared more sour than ever. He glared sharply at Jack.
“Maybe we’ll meet again some day, and under different circumstances,” he remarked, with a scowl.
“What awful men!” was Ruth’s comment, as they climbed into the automobile once more. “I’d hate to be alone and meet them.”
“What do you suppose they are, Uncle Sam? A couple of liquor runners?”
“More than likely, Jack,” answered his uncle. “But one thing is certain—this load of liquor will never be delivered,” he added, with a chuckle.
“I don’t see why they can’t obey the law and leave liquor alone,” remarked Martha, as the car was backed to the other road and then sent forward in the direction Tom Rover had taken.
“There is too much money in it, that’s why,” answered her uncle. “Some of these rum-runners—or bootleggers, as they are called—have become millionaires at the game. They sell all sorts of the vilest kind of concoctions at exorbitant prices.”
They ran on for several miles and then reached a point where they found the other automobile resting by the roadside.