Matt had expected a bullet, and he was not disappointed. But it went wide.
Bang!
The next one came closer, but still left a safe margin.
There was no more shooting. Wondering at it, Josh rose up and looked backward.
"Now wot d'youse t'ink o' dat!" he cried. "Wot's dat mug doin' dat for?"
"What's he doing?" asked Matt.
"W'y he's hustlin' a big stone into de middle o' de road. See 'im work! Chee! Wot's de meanin' o' dat?"
The car whipped around another turn, wiping Spangler and his strange activities out of sight. Josh dropped down on the seat.
"That's got a bad look," said Matt, coaxing the runabout to a still faster gait. "We've got to get out of this as quick as we can."
"Chee!" cried the boy, holding to the seat with both hands, "we're goin' fast enough. Gid-ap! Wow! wot a spurt! Don't let anyt'ing slip a cog, cull. If de ole benzine-buggy hit a rock an' stopped, I'd go right on f'r a couple o' miles afore I landed. Oh, wot a clip! We've got de Cannonball Limited licked t' a frazzle!"