Paul took a backward glance at the oncoming car. Behind it there floated a little haze of smoke from the firing of the revolver.
"They're coming on," murmured the youth. "Can you get any more speed up, Dick?"
"I think so. I'm sort of doing it gradually, though, for this going is hard on the running gear, and I don't want a breakdown."
The Last Word responded well to the demand made on her for increased speed. Faster and faster she raced over the sandy stretch of the desert, and now, Innis, looking back, reported:
"We're giving them the go-by, Dick, old man!"
"Glad of it. I thought we would. I have something left in reserve, too. I guess we'll make a get-away, all right."
"That water in the gasoline ought to work pretty soon, I should think," said Mr. Cameron. "They must have used up all that was in the feed pipe and carbureter, and the small auxiliary tank."
"I guess that's what's the trouble now, all right!" went on Innis. "See, they have stopped."
"Then they're stuck!" cried the engineer, joyfully. "It's all right, boys. They won't be able to find out what's the matter for an hour or more. They'll tinker with every part of the engine, and when they do find it's the gas we'll be far enough off."
"That's right," agreed Dick. "It was a good thing to do."