"By Jove, King, I wish I had your head for getting at things! That was the way of it—it must have been the way of it. Let's pile back into the machine and hustle on."
They all felt that the chase was drawing to a close. The runabout was a faster vehicle than the monkey wagon, but there was not the ghost of a show for the Kentucky horse getting away from the automobile.
From that point on, the paper trail was not in evidence.
"Carl wasn't able to drop any more scraps," said Matt. "When he was inside the monkey wagon he was out of sight and could do about as he pleased; crowded into the runabout with Ben Ali and Haidee, and with Aurung Zeeb riding behind, he couldn't possibly drop a clue to guide us."
"The Dutchman seems to have taken it for granted that he'd be followed," hazarded Burton.
"He knows very well," returned Matt, "that I wouldn't stand around and let him worry through this run of hard luck alone. Look out for the runabout. The way I figure it, the rig can't be more than ten or fifteen minutes ahead of us."
"How do you figure it, Matt?" asked Burton.
"Well, from the time Joe and I heard Carl call for help. I don't believe it was more than half an hour from that time until we were hitting the high places with this automobile. Eh, Joe?"
"No more than that, pard," answered McGlory.
"I should think we'd have gained more than fifteen or twenty minutes on the Hindoos, the rate we've been coming," remarked Burton.