The tracks of the car led up the slope, out of the valley that contained the town, and on along the Ash Fork road.
Matt held the Flier down to an easy pace. For several miles the little party had a pleasant ride, without any excitement whatever. But there was plenty of excitement in store, and when it arrived it came suddenly.
A turn in the wooded road brought those in the car abruptly into a long, straightaway stretch. The instant they were able to look along the trail beyond the turn, a thrill shot through the nerves of all of them.
Three mounted men were coming toward the car at a tearing clip. Evidently they had heard the pounding of the motor and had put their horses to top speed.
"Prisco!" shouted Carl; "und dere iss Spangler, too. Durn aroundt, Matt! Durn aroundt so kevick as der nation vill let you! Shiminy grickets, aber dis vas sutten!"
Motor Matt had recognized two of the riders as Brisco and Spangler, even before Carl had given his frightened yell.
Where had Brisco exchanged his seat in the runabout to the saddle of the horse? And why had he changed, and where had he left the car?
All this darted through the young motorist's mind as he halted the Flier, reversed, and began backing to make the turn.