McGlory's answer was a defiant yell. As the car rushed by Pardo he made a jump for it—and was knocked roughly back toward the ravine wall.
Bang!
That was Grattan's weapon, echoing high about the racket of the unmuffled motor. Something ripped through the rear of the top and crooned its wicked song within an inch of McGlory's head.
But the cowboy laughed. He hadn't blown up a tire or smashed any of the machinery, he was turning into the road, and Grattan and Pardo were behind him!
"We've knocked the hoodoo galley west!" McGlory exulted. "Oh, what do you think of this! What do you think of it!" and he let the sixty champing horses under the bonnet snatch him along the road at their best clip.
[CHAPTER IX.]
MOTOR MATT'S CHASE.
Meanwhile, the king of the motor boys, without the remotest idea as to what was happening to his cowboy pard, was exacting his own tribute from the realm of exciting events.
When he started after Sam Wing, Matt had no time to give to any one else. He supposed that McGlory was following him, but was altogether too busy to look behind and make sure. It was a trifling matter, anyhow. The main thing was to catch Sam Wing, and Matt threw himself into the pursuit with ardor.