Josh hustled for the runabout. One of the coiled ropes Matt had put in the car was hanging over a lamp, and the other had been thrown into the road. Taking the one off the lamp, the boy hurried back to the place where Matt was training the revolver on Spangler.
"Fine bizness!" laughed Josh. "Wot d'yous want me t' do, Matt? Put a bow-knot on his lunch-hooks?"
"Stand up, Spangler!" ordered Matt.
Spangler got lamely to his feet. He was still confused and bewildered.
"Somethin' hit us," he mumbled. "From the way I was throwed it must hev been a landslide. Whar's Hank? Is he killed?"
"Brisco will get along, I guess," said Matt. "Put your hands behind you, Spangler."
Just then, for the first time, it began to dawn on Spangler that Matt was making a prisoner out of him. The ruffian, although practically uninjured, had been badly shaken up. Nevertheless, he was in condition to resist, and he leaped backward, swearing.
"If ye think ye kin rope, down an' tie me," he cried, "jest bekase that thar machine bucked an' dumped me inter the road, ye got another——"
"Come this way!" cut in Matt.
The words, hard and keen, jumped at Spangler like so many knife-points. Motor Matt meant business, and showed it in every movement.