The faces of the two boys in the car were pictures of amazement as they stared at the odd assortment of actors hanging in the trees.
"Vell, py shinks," exclaimed the Dutch boy, "dis vas a jeerful pitzness und no mistake. It iss der fairst time I efer knowed it bossiple to pick actor-peoples oudt oof der drees. Vat you t'ink oof dot, Motor Matt?"
[CHAPTER II.]
THE RED FLIER GETS A LOAD.
Motor Matt didn't know what to think. The queerest lot of people he ever saw were dropping out of the trees and hurrying toward the automobile.
First, there was a young woman of seventeen or eighteen, wearing a dust-coat and gauntlets. There was a look of intense relief on her pretty face.
Following her came a tall, slimly built man, whose clothes suggested the ruffian, but whose face was anything but vicious. He carried a blacksnake whip.
A boy trailed after the man. He wasn't a handsome boy, by any means, but his eyes were bright and sharp and he had a clever look.
From the other way along the road came an old darky in tattered, soggy clothes. A young negro girl hurried along beside him.