Carl thought that was their hoodoo day, but he had occasion to change his mind.
"Somet'ing iss going wrong mit der odder machine, Matt!" he called. "Dey're preaking down, I bed you."
"That's what!" came from Pringle. "Hank acts as though he wanted to kill the driver. Is the driver making a play, or has something really slipped a cog? They're at a standstill."
Matt decreased the Red Flier's speed and looked back. The driver of the other car was on the ground and both Hank and Spangler were standing over him with drawn guns.
"Judging from what the driver is doing," said Matt, "it can't be a tire they've blown up. Water in the carburetter, perhaps. If that's the case, they'll be after us like a singed cat in less than a minute."
A bend in the road hid those in the touring-car from a view of their enemies behind. The road curved back and forth, through that part of the hills, and Matt was just making ready to let the Flier out again when Pringle made a suggestion.
"You can't give them the slip on a straightaway run, can you?" he called.
"No," answered Matt.
"And if they're only hung up for two or three minutes they'll catch us?"
"Easy."