"That's right!" agreed Paul, while Innis clenched his fists suggestively.
The way was rougher now, and they were proceeding more slowly. The trip across the desert had somewhat delayed them, for the heavy car sank deeper into the sand than they had counted on, and the trip had consumed nearly three times as much time as it ordinarily does.
They were within a few hours' run of Sacramento, passing through a rather lonely region, when Dick, who was at the wheel, leaned forward, and through the open front windows of the car seemed to be listening to the chug-chug of the motor.
"What's the matter?" asked Paul.
"She doesn't seem to be running just right," he answered. "Something seems to be out of gear. Maybe it's one of the timers. I guess I'll have a look."
As he put out his hand to shut off the gasoline by the lever provided for that purpose, the big car came to a sudden stop of its own accord.
"A breakdown, I guess," murmured Dick. "And a bad place to have it in," he added as he looked about him. As he alighted, followed by the others, there came up behind them a powerful auto containing three men. This car stopped, and two of the strangers got out, approaching Dick and his friends.