Matt and Dick were naturally surprised at this quick move. They were on the point of speaking when Dashington laid a warning finger on his lips and motioned for the pole and its burden to be let down.
"What's up?" whispered Matt, when Carl and Dashington had pressed close.
"The benzine cart is right ahead of us!" answered Dashington.
"Oof ve hat gone anodder foot," added Carl, "ve vould haf come oudt righdt on Whistler und Pangs."
"They're sitting in the front seats with a couple of rifles over their knees," finished Dashington. "Go take a look, Matt."
Matt crept forward to a place from which he could get a good view of the wagon road. The automobile was pulled out on the roadside, and brush had been cut and piled over the bonnet in order to screen the car from travelers along the highway.
Whistler and Bangs did not appear, as yet, to be very much worried over the prolonged absence of Jurgens. They were lounging in the car, their feet on the dashboard and pipes between their lips. Bangs was in his shirt sleeves, and across the lap of each lay a rifle.
As Motor Matt surveyed the situation, he felt a pang to think that those two rascals would escape the penalty of their evil actions. This thought led to another which caused the young motorist's pulses to leap with an inspiration.
Turning in his tracks, he made his way silently back to his waiting companions.
"I've got a scheme, pards," he whispered. "How'd you like to ride back to New Orleans in Jurgens' automobile?"