"You stole a motor car, eh?" said McGlory grimly. "And on top of that you have the nerve to come along here and speak a good word for yourself."
"Stow it," growled Bunce, "or you an' I'll be at loggerheads for good. What's the word?" and he turned his gleaming eye on Matt. "You can use the telephone an' hand me over to the police, or you can do as I say an' save the mandarin. What's the word?"
"When will we have to start after Grattan?" asked Matt.
"By early mornin', mate, just when it's light enough to see."
"And where'll we meet you?"
"In the woods beyond the railroad yards. Go there, stand on the track, an' whistle. I'll whistle back, then we'll come together—an' fill the bill."
"You can expect us at six o'clock," said Motor Matt, unlocking the door and pulling it open.
"Brayvo, my bully!" enthused Bunce. "An' ye'll come armed? Grattan is a hard man, an' sizable in a scrimmage."
"We'll be prepared to take care of Grattan," answered Matt. "Good night, Bunce."