"Listen!" cried Matt.
It was impossible, of course, for the boys to see around the shoulder of the cliff, but a low murmuring sound reached their ears, growing quickly in volume.
"Dot's it!" said Carl excitedly; "she vas coming, I bed you! She vill go py righdt unter us, und ve can look down und see vat ve can see, vich von't be nodding. Aber I vish dot I vas some odder blace as here. Oof dot——"
Carl broke off his talk. Just then the white car came spinning around the curve.
What Motor Matt was intending to do Carl hadn't the least notion, but he was pretty sure it must be something reckless.
The car was nearly upon them when Motor Matt, a resolute gleam in his gray eyes, loosened his hold on the rocks. Carl's shock of tow-colored hair began to stand up like porcupine bristles. Something was about to happen, and he caught his breath.
Then something did happen, and the Dutch boy got back his breath with a rush.
"Look a leedle oudt!" yelled Carl, as Motor Matt made a quick jump for the phantom auto.
It was a daring leap—so daring that Carl hung to his bush with both hands and expected to see his chum either miss the machine altogether or else carom off the opposite side, bound into the road, and go hurtling into the chasm.
But Matt was too athletic, his nerves were too steady, and his eyes too keen for that.