"Wouldn't dat crimp yous?" gasped the boy, awed at the gathering perils. "Dey've got us f'r fair, Matt! W'y didn't yous keep on an' give Brisco de go-by?"
"There wasn't room enough in the road to pass!" flung back Matt.
"Dat's w'y Spang was rollin' dem stones in de road! He knew dat Brisco was comin', and dat he'd git us between him an' de rock-pile. Chee! We're It, dis time, an' no mistake."
Matt, his face white and set and his gray eyes snapping, was leaning over the steering-wheel, watching every foot of road as they swept over it.
"We've got to pass that rock-pile before it gets too big!" said he through his teeth.
"Den w'ere'll we go?"
"Anywhere, just so we keep away from Brisco. This car is a faster one than the Red Flier. We can show him our heels at any stage of the game."
They fairly flew, and rocks rushed past them as though hurled by some giant hand.
"There'll be some danger when we get to the place where Spangler is waiting, Josh," said Matt. "I'll slow down and you can get out, if you want to."
"Wot d'youse take me fer?" cried the boy. "I'm wid yous, Matt, win 'r lose. See? Make yer ole play. If Uncle Josh ain't wit' yous at de finish, den call him a quitter an' mark him off'n yer callin'-list."