Suddenly he braced himself up on his elbows. His keen ears had caught a distant purring sound. Two yellow balls of fire were rapidly approaching—the headlights of a fast-moving automobile.
"He comes! Now for it!" He prepared to spring.
In an amazingly short time the car was all but upon him. Leaping to his feet, he let out a wild whoop and, brandishing his automatic threateningly, stood squarely in the middle of the road.
His heart beat wildly. There could be no mistake. He saw the wires and rods swaying above the car.
For a second the car slowed up, then, with a snort it leaped right at him. Nimble as he was, he barely escaped being run down.
As the car flashed past him, he wheeled about and almost instantly his automatic barked three times. Simultaneous with the last shot there came a louder explosion.
"Tire! Got you," he muttered.
Instantly the car swerved to the side of the road. A tire had gone flat. The car had skidded.
The rods which carried the aerials caught in a tree top. The car, jerked back like a mad horse caught by a lariat, reared up on its hind wheels, threatened to turn turtle, then crashed over on its side with its engine still racing wildly.
Sudden as had been the catastrophe, it had not been too quick for the driver. Just as the car crashed over, Curlie caught sight of a figure in long linen duster and with closely wrapped head, dashing up the bank, over the fence and into the brush.