Matt began slipping and sliding down the slope at the side of the runabout. Just at the point where the driver of the car had taken his header, the young motorist picked up a long manila envelope, unsealed.
“I reckon that dropped out of the man’s clothes while he was upside down,” ventured McGlory.
“That’s a cinch,” said Matt. “There’s no address on the envelope, and no printed card in the corner, but it may be we can find the man’s name and address on the papers inside. If he won’t come for his car, we’ll take it to him.”
“I’m a Piute,” mumbled McGlory, “if I feel right about this runabout business.”
“Billy’s talk about hoodoo cars has got you on the run,” grinned Matt. “You’ll feel different when we’re slamming along the pike with the runabout under perfect control. It’s my opinion that man doesn’t know a whole lot about running a car.”
While Matt was moving here and there about the steep bank, making a few investigations of the “hoodoo” machine, Billy came racing back.
“There’s your rope, Matt,” said he, tossing a coiled cable into the road.
Matt crept warily up the bank to the front of the runabout.
“Did you see the man, Billy?” he asked.
“Sure I did. Let him ride with me for half a mile.”