Out of the tails of his eyes Matt saw Hank draw a revolver; and over his shoulder leaned Spangler with another weapon.
The young motorist, no matter how desperate the situation, did not intend to allow any successful shooting from the Red Flier. Quick as a flash, he steered the car over a roughened part of the road. During the shake-up that followed, the aim of the two ruffians was disconcerted, and their shots went wild.
Trymore and Pringle, goading their horses frantically, were doing their utmost to get away from their vengeful comrades. They knew, however, that if they kept to the road it would be only a matter of seconds before they were overhauled. The whistle of the bullets impelled a quick change of tactics, and they turned from the trail and took to the timber. By this move, they screened themselves from the weapons of the pursuers, but got into country where they would have to travel more slowly.
In the haste with which this fresh maneuver was executed, the led horse got away.
"Consarn 'em!" exclaimed Hank. "If they think they're going to get away by pulling off such a game as that, they're going to get fooled. Stop the car!" he added, to Matt.
Matt slowed down to a halt. Before the Red Flier had been brought to a standstill, Hank and Spangler were over the side, Hank catching the loose horse and spurring after the fugitives, and Spangler floundering after him on foot.
Presently, pursued and pursuers vanished, and Matt and Carl sat in the car and wondered what was going to happen next.
"You bed my life," fumed Carl, "I hope dey ged Pringle."
The Dutch boy was so deeply concerned over Pringle that he had lost sight of the more important points of the situation.
"They're crooks, all four of them," said Matt. "They stole the pearls from Tomlinson, in the first place, and now they're trying to beat each other out of them."