"Well," said Murgatroyd, "I wanted to talk with him, and he didn't seem at all anxious to stay alongside the automobile."
"So you ruined his flying machine and took the chance of hurting him!"
"Get back in the car, Amy," ordered Murgatroyd sharply. "You don't understand what you are talking about. This young rascal deserves all he receives at my hands, and more."
"He doesn't look like a rascal, or——"
"Will you mind?"
Murgatroyd turned and pointed toward the car. The girl hesitated a moment, then walked slowly back to the automobile and climbed into the tonneau.
Matt, meantime, had picked himself up, glad to find that he had no broken bones. He was bruised and sore, and his coat was torn, but he did not care for that. He had had a lucky escape, and just at that moment was more concerned about the aëroplane than he was about himself.
The flying machine, so far as Matt could see, did not appear to be very badly broken.
"I'll hold you responsible for this, Amos Murgatroyd," said Matt, turning on the broker. "It was an unprovoked attack."
"You've given me plenty of cause to lay violent hands on you," answered Murgatroyd. "What are you doing in this part of the country?"