The highwayman had sent a bullet through each rubber tire, obviously bent upon partly disabling the runabout and thus preventing pursuit.
Then, just as the huge touring-car arrived upon the scene, the daring rascal darted back through the veil of smoke from his weapons and leaped aboard the car.
“Let her go!” he yelled commandingly.
The driver instantly gave her full speed, and the car swept on down the road with the velocity of an express-train.
Already upon his feet in the runabout, Nick Carter whipped out his revolver and fired twice at the occupants of the departing car. His aim was ruined by Grady, however, who excitedly began backing the runabout into the road, and Nick’s bullets went wide of their mark.
In ten seconds the touring-car was vanishing in a cloud of dust around a distant curve of the road.
“Hold on!” roared Grady, thinking Nick was about to alight in the road. “I’ll follow them divils, sir, tires or no tires!”
“Follow nothing!” growled Nick, thrusting his revolver back into his pocket. “You might as well try to follow a streak of lightning.”
“Will you let that blackguard escape?”
“Let him escape!” exclaimed Nick derisively. “I should say, Grady, that he has already escaped. You could not overtake him with this machine if your life depended upon it.”