“LOOK!” CRIED TOM; “HE’S THROWING SOMETHING AWAY.”
His quick ear had caught the sound of an approaching auto, which he recognized as his own from the noise of the exhaust.
Sure enough, as he reached the gate in the palings, his red racing runabout, designed by himself along new lines, was pulling up to the sidewalk.
“Fo’ de lan’s sake!” Jupe shouted as he pulled up; “what’s all dis hyah bobbin’ an’ flummery?”
As the colored man shouted the words, making up expressions in his own peculiar way when his vocabulary failed him, Jack saw that Tom was lying at the roadside while Duke was making a jump for his motorcycle. He had just time to take in all this when Tom scrambled to his feet. At the same instant Duke sprang to the seat of his motorcycle and was off like a flash.
“After him!” shouted Tom, running toward Jack and the red motor car. “Don’t let him escape!”
“Then you are not hurt, Tom?”
“No; but he managed to fling me off and I hit the road with a pretty hard bump.”
“Good—I mean it’s good you weren’t hurt. Start her up, Jupe; don’t let that fellow ahead escape.”