The auto Teddy had brought was a touring car with a large rear seat. The top was down.
“Good,” Roy said, as he saw it. “In the back with him. You go first, Bug Eye, then get out the other door. That’s it.”
They lifted the man and, under Roy’s direction, succeeded in placing him on the rear seat, Teddy still holding his body and Roy his head. Bug Eye released his hold on the legs and slid out the opposite door.
“I’ll tie the broncs to the back,” Bug Eye stated. “They can easy follow at the speed I’ll be goin’.”
So intense was the moment that the puncher neither noticed the cut on Roy’s head nor the condition of Star. He fastened the ponies to the top supports, and then got behind the wheel.
“As easy as you know how, Bug Eye,” Teddy cautioned. “Watch for every bump and slow down. All right. Let’s go!”
The starter whirred, the motor awoke, and the car began to move. Roy studied the man’s face anxiously. He and Teddy tried to hold the body so that it was absolutely immovable, but that was impossible. The plains are vastly different from a macadamized road. Try as they would, the boys could not keep the man from shifting a little.
The right arm moved and the hand clutched at the pocket.
“What’s he want?” Teddy whispered.
Roy did not answer. When the man lay quiet again, he touched his side lightly. The pocket was empty. As he held him, Roy could feel that there was nothing resembling a bag of money or gold about his person. The trousers were of khaki, and, unlike the trousers of a cow puncher, fitted tightly.