He gave a convulsive movement and then became quiet.
"You've killed him, Matt!" cried Chub frantically.
"Rot!" flung back Motor Matt, hurrying around to where the freighter was lying and hauling him away from the hoofs of the horses. "He's just stunned, that's all. Jump into the wagon, Chub, and untie the wheels. When you're ready, I'll help you get them into the road. Sharp's the word now, old chap. I'll watch the freighter while you're working with the machines."
Chub, chuckling to himself over the neat way fortune was coming to their aid, once more climbed into the wagon.
Matt, noticing a movement on the part of the freighter that told of returning consciousness, drew his big, ham-like hands behind him and twined the whip-lash about the wrists.
It was well Matt took this precaution, for, a moment after the tying was completed, the man's eyes opened.
"Tryin' ter kill me, was ye?" he snarled.
"Not at all," said Matt coolly. "I was trying to take the whip away from you, and you fell out of the wagon."
"All ready, Matt!" called Chub.
Matt whirled away from the freighter, to help Chub get the motor-cycles down. Hardly were the two machines on the ground, when the boys heard the freighter yell and saw him charge toward them. It had been impossible for Matt to tie his hands securely with the whip, and he had freed himself and was hustling toward the rear of the wagon, to intercept the boys and prevent them from getting away.