But Bob, at the other end of the street, had his own ideas about the police and the need for a hasty rescue.
He paused in his mad dash down the block. Unarmed, he would be no match for the gunmen who were attempting to surround his uncle and obtain the paper.
A new plan formed in Bob’s mind and he turned determinedly and headed for the car. It was a large and powerful sedan with a motor under its hood that equalled the power of a hundred and twenty horses.
There was no one in the car and Bob slid into the driver’s seat. The doors were unusually high and heavy and he guessed that the car was bullet proof.
Bob reached for the headlight switch, then thought better of it, and meshed the gears into low. He tramped on the throttle and the motor roared into action. With a lurch the heavy car plunged off the pavement and into the street which was undergoing repairs.
Bob would have liked to have used the headlights for they would have revealed the menace of hidden mounds of dirt and bricks and other construction materials, but to have switched them on would have made the car too easy a target for the gunmen.
Looking ahead, Bob saw the flashes of gunfire cease, as though the men who had been pulling the triggers were surprised and alarmed at the approach of the car.
Then there was a spurt of flame and something smacked hard against the windshield. He saw the glass shatter, but it did not break, and it gave him new confidence in the knowledge that the car was protected against bullets.
Now there were more flashes of crimson ahead of him and bullets spanked against the car. The glass of a headlight shattered into a thousand bits.
The big machine rammed into a pile of bricks and stalled. They were only half way down the block and Bob reversed quickly and backed the car away. With a sharp flip of the wheel he skirted the obstruction and once more roared ahead, the car gaining speed as it went along in second gear.