The moment the Comet's tank had been filled and capped, Matt carried the canteen to the motor-car and proceeded to replenish it out of the supply belonging to his two enemies.
Then, while he was filling Clip's canteen, Clip was busy making Matt's fast to the head of the Comet. Both boys were so hard at work that they did not notice the sound of voices had died out in the chaparral. As Matt stepped back from the motor-car and finished screwing the cap on the canteen, a man jumped out into the road. The man was carrying a six-foot length of ironwood. With a yell of anger, he hurled the heavy stick straight at Matt.
Matt dodged, and the timber just grazed his head.
"Jem!" whooped the man; "this way—on the jump!"
Running around the front of the automobile, Matt made a rush for his machine, at the same time yelling to Clip to get into the saddle and make off with a rush.
The man, darting around the rear of the roadster, started to plant himself in Matt's way. Matt feinted as though he would pass on the right side. When the man had thrown himself in that direction, Matt plunged by on the left, whirling the canteen by the strap and striking his enemy a fierce crack on the side of the head.
The man toppled over against the automobile. By then Matt had reached the Comet. Still hanging to Clip's canteen, he jerked the motor-cycle away from the bushes, got into the saddle, and started the pedals. Clip had already started, but was going slow and looking back to see if his help would be needed.
Jem, the driver of the roadster, crashed through the bushes just as the Comet was getting under its own headway. He carried an ax and another piece of freshly cut ironwood.
"That's King!" whooped Jem's companion. "Stop him! You've got to stop him!"
Clip flung back a taunt. Matt, as the Comet gathered speed like a mettlesome racer, wondered how Jem was going to cover the fast-widening gap and do anything to stop either of the motor-cycles.