"Vell," observed Carl, "I don'd know aboudt dot. Der pubble is acting oop mit itseluf. It has shtopped, und Vipple iss like some crazy mans, drying to make it go."
What Carl had said was the truth. Directly ahead, the automobile was at a complete standstill, with Whipple pulling and hauling frantically at the levers.
"Now we'll land him!" exulted Harris. "Straight ahead, Matt."
Whipple, despairing of getting the car into usable condition, suddenly sprang into the road and started for the fence. He was climbing the fence, when Matt shut off the power and halted about twenty feet over his head. Harris' revolver was trained full on the fugitive.
"Now, then," yelled the officer, "either give up or take the consequences."
"It's your play," answered Whipple, turning around and sitting on the top board.
"Throw your six-shooter into the road!" ordered Harris.
Whipple jerked the gun from his pocket and cast it from him, with a hoarse laugh.
"It ain't any good," said he. "There ain't a loaded shell in the cylinder, an' no more ter put in. If it hadn't been fer that, Harris, I wouldn't have come so easy. I could have slammed a bullet inter the machinery o' that air ship an' put it out o' the runnin'."
"I thought it was queer," remarked Harris, "that Pete or Whipple didn't use their revolvers. Get down closer to the ground, Matt. Better tie up to the fence, for I'd like to have you take a look at the automobile and see what's the matter with it."