"Well, we won't stop until we have to," said Dick, grimly.
"How do you suppose they worked it?" asked Paul, as the Last Word careened on over the uneven way.
"They must have been trailing us," suggested Dick, as he held to the vibrating steering wheel. "Martin and Wickford probably got in touch with their crowd by telegraph after we got away from them, and very likely mapped out the course we would probably take. They knew we had to come to San Francisco. Then they dropped out of the game—Martin and Wickford did—and some others took up the chase. The object was to get hold of Mr. Cameron so he couldn't testify."
"And they've done it," said Innis, gloomily.
"But we'll get him back!" asserted Paul.
"That's what!" declared Dick. "We'll keep on their trail until we get him away from them. Fate rather played into their hands this trip. If we hadn't become stalled they might not have caught up with us, as I was thinking of laying up over night, and they might have passed us in the evening.
"However, it can't be helped. We'll do the best we can. As soon as they saw us, when they came dashing up, they must have laid their plans. They knew our car the moment they laid eyes on it, and we were at a disadvantage, for we'd never seen them before."
"And we didn't suspect," added Paul, gloomily.
"No," went on our hero. "I even believe they punctured that tire on purpose."
"They might have," admitted Innis. "It's a wonder that fellow didn't put your motor out of commission for keeps, Dick, while he was working over it."