As Whipple continued to rush forward, the young motorist sprang up, whirled the bludgeon, and let it drop on the scoundrel's head with all his strength.
Whipple gave a howl of pain, threw up his hands, and staggered back. Matt pressed the robber hard, and another blow felled him where he stood. Whirling away, Matt rushed back to help his two chums.
Carl had not yet recovered himself sufficiently to be of any use, and Ferral was having a little more than he could manage.
"Take him from behind, Whipple!" panted Pete, thinking Matt was his confederate.
The next moment Pete saw his mistake.
Rightly surmising that something had happened to his pal, and not caring to run the risk of being captured, Pete whirled and took to his heels.
"Keelhaul me, mate," cried Ferral, "but that was a tight squeak. Where's the other swab?"
"I was lucky enough to bowl him over, and——"
"My heart was in my throat when I heard that shot! I thought sure you had got your gruel."
"Never mind that, now. Get into the car and turn over the engine. I'll finish casting off that other rope and we'll get out of here. There's more of the gang at large and they may be skulking around in this vicinity. Hurry up, Dick!"