“Major, this would be a short-cut to Clear Lake! How about taking it?”
Major Hartgrove glanced at his prisoner. Flash read the thought.
“This town must have a constable and a jail,” he said. “We could drop him here and go on.”
“Yes, that will be wiser than trying to take the longer route,” agreed Major Hartgrove.
They aroused a sleepy official from his bed, and turned the chauffeur over to him. Explanations were necessary. The constable was slow to understand.
“We’re losing entirely too much time!” the Major fumed.
“You stay here and enter a charge against this man,” Flash proposed. “Doyle and I will go on to Clear Lake. Unless we move fast, Rascomb is certain to get away.”
The Major considered briefly and consented.
“I’ll telephone to Excelsior City for a police squad,” he promised. “By the time you reach Clear Lake help should be there. I’ll follow as quickly as I can.”
Armed with the Major’s revolver, Flash and Doyle raced on toward Clear Lake. The road they had chosen was bedded with loose gravel. Small stones were thrown against the windshield and fenders as the car skidded around corners.