Barney McGee, as nimble as a mountain goat, as he pulled himself above Billie, his spurs jingling musically, now took the glasses and scanned the surrounding country.
While he looked, Billie scrambled down as fast as she could and in two seconds had slipped back on her skirt and buckled her patent leather belt.
The Motor Maids and Miss Helen felt not unlike a shipwrecked party with a sailor aloft in the lookout searching for a sail in that vast ocean of prairie.
“Hip, hip, hurray!” cried Barney McGee, so suddenly, that he gave Miss Helen a start of surprise. “I’ve found it, ma’am. I’ve found the red motor and it’s coming this way. Sure as me name is Barney, it is. It’s driven by one person and it’s goin’ fast.”
“Coming this way?” they cried in unison.
“It’s about three miles to the southwest and at the rate it’s goin’ it ought to be here in no time.”
“Is it on this road?” cried Billie.
“It is, Miss, and it’ll pass by here unless it shoots out over the prairie, which it won’t.”
“It is very strange,” said Miss Campbell. “I should think the thief would take another direction.”
“Perhaps he’s doubling on his tracks,” suggested Mary.