"I'll make you smart for this some day!" he yelled, as fearful of lingering any longer he swung himself into his saddle. He drove home the spurs and with a squeal and a bound the little animal carried him out of the region of the hotel.
As for Dayton's companion he was already a good distance off with Al. Jeffries clinging behind him on his saddle.
Joe had made for the auto and seized a rifle from the rack in the tonneau as Dayton galloped off, but Nat sharply told him to put it down.
"We have scared the rascals off, and that's enough," he said.
In a few minutes the Motor Rangers were surrounded by everybody in the hotel, including Cal and the postmaster. They were warmly congratulated on their success by all hands, and much laughter greeted their account of the amusing panic into which the rascals had been thrown by the sudden appearance of the glowing-faced ghosts, followed by the discharge of the "mule battery."
"How did yer git the green glowing paint?" asked Cal interestedly.
"Why, we took the liberty of soaking two or three bundles of California matches in the tooth glass," explained Nat, "and then we had a fine article of phosphorus paint."
"Wall if you ain't the beatingest," was the landlord's admiring contribution.
In the midst of the explanations, congratulations and angry denunciation of Al. Jeffries and his companions, a sudden piping voice was heard.
"Yust von moment blease. Vait! Nod a mofe!—Ah goot, I haf you!"