Motor Matt's face set resolutely.
"I'm going to slow down, Carl," said he, "and you pile out! There's too much freight for the race we've got to make."
"All righdt! Don'd led nodding habben, bard, now ven ve're so near droo mit dis monkey-dootle pitzness."
Carl jumped for the ground, and Tippoo sank limply into his seat.
Matt immediately threw on the high speed, giving an angle to the car's course which would lay it alongside the Red Flier.
Like a flash, the white car leaped over the flat ground, Tippoo still wringing his hands and muttering fearfully to himself.
[CHAPTER XIV.]
IN THE NICK OF TIME.
There was no road-bed under the wheels of the white runabout, but, for all that, the earth was firm, although rilled, at irregular distances, with little sandy ridges. The car, being light, seemed fairly to leap over these small rises.