“Well,” he thought, “I want a way to return to New York, and here it is. It meets me on the road, and I should be foolish not to take advantage of it. Quite likely Joe and Levitt have found other and more satisfactory means for reaching the city. I don’t blame them for changing to another car, if they had the opportunity, or for taking a railroad train if they happened to be conveniently near one. There’s no railroad very close to this place, though, and the runabout couldn’t have come far, with no one in control.”
There was enough gas in the cylinders so that the motor took the spark. The runabout leaped ahead, perfectly obedient to Matt’s hand.
As he swept along he looked and listened for some signs of McGlory and Levitt. He came upon the two missing passengers suddenly—and what he saw caused him to jam down hard on the brakes and leap from the car before it was fairly at a stop.
[CHAPTER XIII.
IMPORTANT DISCLOSURES.]
Joe McGlory was kneeling beside the road, tying a handkerchief bandage around the forehead of Levitt. The latter was sprawled out limply on the ground, his clothing torn and disarranged.
“What’s the matter, Joe?” asked Matt.
The cowboy’s face was pale, and the set lines of it indicated that he was himself in pain.
“That’s you, is it, pard?” he asked huskily.
For a useless question McGlory threw a good deal of feeling into it.