By degrees a numbness crept along Matt’s limbs, and a drowsiness enwrapped his brain. He slept, in spite of his many discomforts, and was awakened, finally, by a rattle from somewhere forward of the tonneau.
The car was at a stop.
“What was the trouble, Sanders?” called the voice of Dimmock.
“Nothing much,” answered Sanders. “It’s fixed now.”
“Why not let Motor Matt sit up here on the seat between us?” suggested the girl. “It’s so dark no one could see him—even if we happened to be passed by another car.”
“We might as well give him a little comfort, I suppose,” answered Dimmock.
Thereupon the coat was pulled away, and Matt found that it was night. Dimmock reached down and helped him up on the seat.
“We’re doing this for your comfort, Motor Matt,” said Dimmock. “I hope you’ll appreciate it, and not try to make any trouble for us.”
Matt moved his cramped joints and stretched his legs the full width of the tonneau. There were shadowy bluffs on each side of the road, and a tracery of boughs lay against the lighter background of sky. From the fragrant odor, Matt gathered that they were in the depths of a pine forest. He gurgled ineffectively behind the gag.