"Wait!" protested Matt, drawing back. "Have you seen——"
"Can't wait," fumed Burton. "I've hired a chug-car; and there's a race on. Haidee has skipped. Aurung Zeeb, one of the other Hindoo mahouts, has helped her get away. They've taken my runabout. Confound such blooming luck, anyhow!"
Here was news, and no mistake. Ben Ali running off with Carl, and Aurung Zeeb taking to the open with the showman's Kentucky cob and rubber-tired buggy!
"Do you know where Aurung Zeeb and Haidee went?" asked Matt.
"I haven't the least notion," was the wrathful answer, "but we've got to find them. I don't care a straw about Zeeb, or the girl, but that runabout rig is worth six hundred dollars, just as it stands."
"Well, if you don't know which way the rig went," argued Matt, "it's foolish to go chasing them and depending on luck to point the way."
"We've got to do something!" declared Burton.
"Where's Ben Ali?"
"Oh, hang Ben Ali! I haven't seen him since he flashed that knife in my face."