“Get back before I have to do something impolite,” mocked Hank, sidestepping and throwing himself on guard. But Tom Halstead, leaping to his feet at the first sign of rescue, now tripped Justin Bolton neatly. That astounded person fell backward, striking the ground heavily.
“This way, Hank, on the hustle!” called Tom, making a plunge for the road. Halstead was in the automobile, at the steering wheel, like a flash. Hank, trembling slightly, but all a-grin, followed.
Ellis was the first to regain his feet, though Bolton was close behind him as he gained the road. They were just a second or so too late. With the machine cranked up, the engine running, Halstead had only to give the steering wheel a turn and push on the speed. The car rolled ahead, then began to travel fast just as the angry pair dashed up. In another instant Halstead had distanced them, speeding the car eastward down the country road.
Bang! There was a single shot. A bullet sped by their heads, but both boys were crouching low. There was a second shot, but this time no bullet was heard. The swift car had borne them out of revolver range.
“Hank,” exploded Tom, gleefully, “I want to say that I’ve known some real fellows, but you’re one of the best ever. But how did you manage it? I thought you were on your way back to East Hampton.”
“I ought to have been,” admitted Hank Butts, soberly. “But—well, I suppose I’ve a notion for minding other people’s business. I was just aching to see how you came out, so—well, I follered.”
“And the luckiest thing for me that you did,” asserted young Halstead, shutting off much of the speed, now, and running along more slowly. “But see here, Hank, can you run this car for a moment or two?”
“I can steer it,” Hank agreed.
Tom surrendered the wheel to this new friend, and climbed over backward into the tonneau. He promptly examined the cushions under the rear seat. As he had hoped, he found a large locker space under the seat, and some tools.
“See here, Hank, listen,” admonished Halstead, leaning over the back of the front seat. “I think our people will run after us a little way in the hope that we’ll leave the auto and take to our heels. I’m going to stay here and hide under the back seat. There’s a wrench or two there that I can fight with if I’m cornered. If Bolton will only overtake his machine and go where I think he’ll go, I’ll be on the track of the biggest kind of news. But this time I want you to really run back to East Hampton. Don’t even think of waiting to see what happens to me. Get aboard the ‘Rocket’ and tell Joe Dawson, from me, to get the engine all ready for an instant start. Then he wants to be near the cigar store, close to the pier, so I can call him over the telephone there if I want to send him any message. Tell him to have the tank full of gasoline, ready for a long chase. Here, I’ll give you a note that’ll make Joe Dawson pay a whole lot of attention to you. Shut off the engine.”