“If this infernal contraption goes off the jump again,” scowled McGlory, “it’s liable to do for all of us.”
In a few moments they were loaded. The cowboy, braced in the seat, supported the upper half of Levitt’s body between his knees. This left Matt elbow room for running the car.
The runabout started off cleverly enough, and Matt believed it would act well for the short trip to Hempstead.
“How did the accident happen, Joe?” he asked, when they were well away.
“I wish somebody would tell me,” answered McGlory. “We were going along at not more than twenty-five miles an hour when, without any warning, it buck-jumped, and stopped dead. Levitt was thrown out sideways against the tree. I missed the trees, but took the roadside on my head and shoulders, as near as I can recollect. I was dazed for a couple of minutes, and when I rounded up my wits I saw Levitt unconscious, a dozen feet from where I was lying. That’s all. I was trying to tinker him up when you came along. Where did you pick up the car?”
“A little way back on the road. It was on the reverse, and moving slowly.”
“How did it get on the reverse?”
“I don’t know.”
“Nor I. Sufferin’ brain twisters! The same thing happened on the Jericho Pike this morning, you remember.”
Matt was silent. Before either he or the cowboy could speak Levitt began to talk.