The Chinese boy had been using his eyes and ears a great deal more than his tongue. But his emotions, at every stage of that ride from Jamestown, had changed with Matt's and McGlory's. Now Ping was all chagrin, and a wild desire to "push on the reins" and overhaul Jake.
The road was fairly good until the automobile reached the forks; after that, it ran into hilly country where there was considerable sand.
Black forced the car all he could, but the poor speed it developed filled the impatient boys with dismay and anxiety.
"We'll never overtake that wagon in a thousand years, at this gait," fumed McGlory.
"You forget, Joe," answered Matt, "that if we're going slow, the wagon is going a lot slower."
"That's the talk," said Black. "We'll come up with the wagon several miles this side of Oberon."
As the car ground through the sand, and chugged up the hills, the boys kept a sharp watch ahead. Dawn brightened in the east, and the gray streamers crept steadily toward the zenith.
"Five o'clock," said Matt, looking at his watch. "The sun will be up in half an hour."
"Precious little I care for that," chuckled Black. "There's Jake!"
The car had topped a hill which gave its passengers a long view out over the level prairie. Far away in the distance the dim gray light showed the boys a dark blot on the plain. It was impossible to tell much about the blot, at that range, but there could be no doubt concerning it. Surely it was the wagon; it could be nothing else.