Chub, in despair, dropped over against the side of the house and banged at the adobe wall with his clenched fists. Matt, after a moment's thought, darted away toward the road.
"Where you goin', Matt?" cried Chub.
"To see which way the thieves went," called back Motor Matt.
"What's the use? Think we could overhaul 'em on foot? This is where Johnny Hardluck puts us down and out, an' no mistake!"
Chub, terribly cast down, continued to lean against the house and say things to himself. He watched Matt absently as he ran up and down the road, reading the signs left in the dust.
Suddenly Matt halted, turned sharply about, and called to Chub.
"We've got a fighting chance!" he yelled, peeling off his coat and casting it by the roadside. "Strip, Chub, and unlimber those short legs of yours. There's a good hard run ahead of us."
The bewildered Chub got out of his coat and dropped it where he stood, then he started in Motor Matt's direction, wandering what was in the wind. How were the two of them, on foot, ever going to catch up with the motor-cycles?