There was no occasion for alarm. Miles and Barney dashed past without giving so much as a glance in the direction of the motor boys.
“Good enough!” exclaimed McGlory. “There’s the chance you wanted, Matt. Can I do anything to help you fix the car?”
“Two of us can shorten the work a whole lot,” said Matt.
He showed McGlory what to do, and for ten minutes both boys were busy. At the end of that time, Matt announced that he was fairly well satisfied with the repairs.
“There’s enough gasoline and oil to take us fifty miles,” he added.
“In other words,” said the cowboy, “we can go clear to Boston, if we have to. What time is it, pard?”
“Nine o’clock.”
McGlory was startled.
“Nine o’clock!” he repeated. “We’ve got to have a telegram on the wires by ten. Let’s pull out and hit the high places.”
There was no indication, so far as the boys could see, that Miles and Barney had discovered the trick which the boys had played on them. If the two men were coming back, they were still a good way off.