The ruffian was not more than twenty feet away. Quick as a flash he raised one of his weapons and pulled the trigger. There was only a metallic click, which made it manifest that Siwash had not kept such close track of the ammunition as Motor Matt had done.
"Go away, I tell you," ordered the king of the motor boys. "I've had enough trouble with you, and I intend to get to Sykestown in time to prevent Murgatroyd from carrying out his plans. If——"
Matt paused, aghast. Across the prairie he could see a swiftly moving blot—a motor car, he was sure, and undoubtedly Murgatroyd's.
Siwash Charley was likewise looking at the approaching car.
"Oh," he yelled, "I reckon ye ain't got everythin' your way, arter all. Hyer comes Murg, an' ye kin bet Murg ain't out o' ammunition even if I am!"
Matt's heart went down into his shoes. Wasn't luck ever to turn for him? Was there to be no end to this reverse which had come his way?
As he continued to gaze at the approaching car, it grew plainer to his eyes. There was more than one man aboard, he could see that, and the car didn't look like Murgatroyd's, but of a different color. This car was brown!
As Matt's hopes arose, Siwash Charley's began to sink. A moment later, Siwash rushed for his horse.
"Cameron!" cried Matt, hardly able to believe his eyes; "Cameron and McGlory!"
Turning from the window he ran to the door, flung it open and leaped outside.