Rapidly the car was turned, and was soon speeding in the direction they wished to go. The stolen insurrecto horses galloped off into the hills, snorting with terror, as the car began to move.
"Say, Pete, what-cher bin doin'?" began Buck, as the vehicle gathered way, "shootin' up ther town?"
"No, siree! I'm a law-abidin' citizen now," came from Pete, "and actin' as chaperony to this yer party."
"You seem ter hev chaperoned them inter a heap of trouble," observed Buck dryly, as the car gathered way.
"'Tain't all my fault. Listen," rejoined Pete, and straightaway launched into a detailed account of their adventures.
"Waal," observed Buck, at the conclusion, "you sure are the number one chop feller fer gettin' inter trouble, but you bet yer life I ain't a-goin' ter fergit ther time yer stood up with me and held off a bunch of crazy cattle-thieves, down on the Rio Grande. So, gents, give yer orders, and Buck Bradley 'ull carry 'em out."
But, alas! as the redoubtable owner of Buck Bradley's Unparalleled, etc., Wild West uttered these words, there came a sudden loud report.
Bang!
"Christopher! They're firing from ambush!" yelled Pete, jumping two feet up from his seat in the tonneau.
"Worse than that, consarn the luck!" growled Bradley, "thet rear tire's busted agin."