"Certainly it was a fine shot," answered Matt. "Were you trying to keep away from Dick sahib?"
"Try keep 'way from Dick sahib, and from Ralph sahib. All same. Leave 'em 'lone. Naboob sahib say so."
This conversation, which cleared up some more dark points, carried the runabout out of the swale and onto the flat stretch which led off in the direction of La Vita Place. The course to the ranch paralleled, at a distance of about a quarter of a mile, the other road that led from the cliffs.
Matt turned the nose of the runabout so as to lay a direct course for the patch of trees where the Red Flier had been left. Before they had covered more than half the distance between the swale and the trees, a loud cry escaped the Hindu. His eyes were fastened upon the other road.
"Dekke!" he called, pointing.
Matt looked in the direction indicated.
"Ach, dunder!" cried Carl. "Dere iss der Ret Flier in der roadt, und some fellers vas aroundt it—two oof dem."
"Dick sahib him tied in car!" shouted Tippoo. "Dey let car go! Car go to de cliff, Dick sahib tied! Kabultah! Hurkut-jee! Hur-r-r-kut-jee!"
Tippoo lifted his hands and wrung them in an agony of fear and apprehension.
By that time Matt was able to take in the situation. He saw Ferral, bound in the front of the car, and the car speeding toward the cliffs and the chasm. Vividly before his eyes floated that turn of the treacherous road. The car would go straight until it reached the turn, and then, if no one was at hand to stop it, the Red Flier would go into the chasm and carry Ferral with it.