McGlory winced.
“But it wasn’t,” said Matt. “I heard you rush out of the house, and I got to the hall door just in time to see Miles going after you. He gave you quite a run, didn’t he?”
“I ran till I was black in the face, Matt, doubling back, dodging around flower beds, and getting mixed up with all kinds of horticultural arrangements. Gee, man, but that’s a fine old place to be used by such a gang!”
“It will cost a hundred or two to repair those gates.”
“And two or three hundred, I reckon, to get this car back in its usual shape.”
“More than that, Joe. I don’t think five hundred will repair the car as it was before we used it for a battering-ram.”
“That ten thousand in bullion is costing the tinhorns pretty dear,” commented the cowboy.
“They’ll not be paying anything for damages. If Miles owns this car, he’s the one that foots this part of the bill.”
The cowboy laughed.
“I’ll bet Miles pretty near had an attack of heart failure when he saw you aiming the car at those iron gates, and giving it full speed ahead!”