"Waal, or what?" sneered the other. "We've got ye here on a lonely road. You can't escape us. Come on, hand over them papers. We'll see that ther rightful owners git 'em, and that we git er reward beside. See?"
Peggy's reply was to leap nimbly into the machine. But to her horror the two tramps followed instantly. Jess cowered back in her seat. Her pale lips moved, but she said nothing.
"Tell yer wot," burst out the man with the club, "you gals give us ten bones a piece—the money don't mean much to folks like you—an' we'll let yer go. If not——"
A sudden inspiration came to Peggy—a flash of recollection.
"Why didn't you say that before?" she said cheerfully. "I'll be glad to give you the money. Wait a minute while I get it out."
She raised the cushion of the front "bucket seat," and dived beneath it with one hand. The men watched her with greedy, yet suspicious eyes.
"Ain't tryin' ter fool us, are yer?" growled one of them, "'cos ef you air——"
He raised his club threateningly, just as Peggy's hand withdrew from beneath the cushion. Something bright flashed in it.
"Look out, Mike. She's got a gun!" shouted one of the men, falling back.
The other whipped a hand amidst his rags and was just about to aim a pistol, when: