"Dem coves'll be careful o' dat odder machine when dey find dis one has been took away from dem."
"I know that—providing they find out the runabout is gone before they destroy the Flier."
Setting the runabout at the bushes, Matt drove through the undergrowth, Josh keeping the branches out of his face while he attended to the steering.
"On de road ag'in!" jubilated the boy, as they emerged from the mouth of the opening and turned to the left.
"All I wish is," answered Matt, "that I knew we were going right."
"Dere's on'y two ways t' go, cull. One's up to'rds w'ere you was dropped by Brisco an' Spang, an' t'odder's de way we're headin'. It's a cinch we're hittin' it off about proper. W'ere d' youse t'ink dem odder mutts went wid de tourin'-car?"
"I'm afraid they took it off to carry out their threat and make junk of it."
"I hope yous ain't got it right. If dey did dat, it 'u'd put yous in a bad hole. Yous couldn't make Tomlinson take dis car f'r de odder, could yous?"
"Hardly. This car belongs to Nugent, in Ash Fork."
Something was rattling about the car, and it got onto Matt's nerves. Halting for a moment, he located the difficulty. The screw-cap of the gasoline-tank was loose. Taking a wrench out of the tool-box he tightened the cap, then dropped the wrench in the rumble and returned to his seat.