Matt had no more than reached the tree when he heard a sound of scrambling behind him. Just as he whirled about to see what was going on, a husky yell rang out.
"I'll take care o' the Dutchman, Spangler. You nail the other 'un!"
Simultaneously with the words a big, ruffianly-looking fellow sprang into the tonneau of the car, grabbed Carl as he was about to rise and pulled him over the back of the seat with an arm about his throat. There was another man on the ground, moving warily in Matt's direction.
These were the two scoundrels who had chased the car on the other side of the mountain, there was no doubt about that. They had made their counter-move exactly as Tomlinson had surmised. But why had they made it, now that Tomlinson was not with the car? And where were their horses?
It seemed clear that they had made a quick ride through the gap, and had reached the trailside and hidden behind the bushes, ready to make a capture as soon as the tree had stopped the boys and before they could take the back track. And what was the use of it all, now that Tomlinson had got away with the pearls?
These thoughts flashed through Matt's mind with the swiftness of lightning. A dead branch had been broken from the pine-tree in its fall. Matt grabbed at it and began waving it around his head.
"Keep away from me!" he cried, to the fellow who was closing in on him.
The ruffian, seeing the snapping gray eyes and the whirling club, paused undecidedly.
"That's Motor Matt!" yelled the man in the automobile; "get him, Spangler!"
"Oh, blazes!" snarled the man. "If ye think I'm goin' to walk inter that club, Hank, ye've got another guess comin'. I'll git him, though."