"Snake us out of this, Motor Matt!" shouted Hank. "Lay us alongside that outfit ahead, and see how quick you can do it!"
"Can't do it," answered Matt. "You fellows have blocked the road."
In their excitement, neither Hank nor Spangler had thought of the tree. It was a case of their own weapons being turned against them. The ruffians let loose their billingsgate again, but only for a moment.
"Get out here, you two," shouted Hank, "and help us snake the log out of the way. I reckon the four of us will be plenty."
Carl piled out briskly, and Matt followed. Spangler and Hank worked like beavers, and after a two minutes' struggle the way was cleared.
"Now for it!" panted Hank, rushing back to the car. "All in, everybody! If you try any tricks with the machinery, Motor Matt," he finished savagely, "I'll make a lead-mine out of you. Top speed!"
It was an odd situation, take it all around. Matt was being forced to help the would-be robbers, but his suspicions of Tomlinson, since his talk with Spangler and Hank, had reached a point where he was more than willing to do his best to overhaul the men ahead.
Carl, of course, was thinking only of Pringle, and of what Pringle had done to him.
The Red Flier leaped onward with a bound, Matt leaning over the wheel and coaxing the six cylinders up, notch by notch, to their limit of power.
Hank was in front with Matt. Behind them, standing in the tonneau, gripping the seat-back and leaning over their heads, were Carl and Spangler.