The tonneau had now grown so hot that they could not sit down.
"Get out, everybody," yelled Joe, as badly scared as he had ever been in his life.
"Yep, let us out, Nat," begged Cal. The Westerner was no coward, but he did not fancy the idea of being blown sky high on top of an explosion of gasolene any more than the rest.
"Good thing I haven't got on my Sunday pants," the irrepressible Westerner remarked. "Hey, Nat," he yelled the next minute, as no diminution of speed was perceptible, "ain't you going ter stop?"
"Not on your life," hurled back Nat, without so much as turning his head.
He evidently had some plan, but what it was they could not for the life of them tell. Their hearts beat quickly and fast with a lively sensation of danger as the burning auto plunged on down the rough slope.
All at once Joe gave a shout of astonishment.
"I see what he's going to do now!" he exclaimed.
So fast was the auto travelling that hardly had the words left his lips before they were fairly upon the little rivulet or creek Cal's acute eyes had spied from the summit of the hill.