“The headlights blind me,” he declared, shading his eyes with his cap brim and hand.
“It’s—it’s the ones who are after us,” called Bob. “See! One of them is stopping the car and the other one is jumping out.” He turned to Al.
“They think we have the books. The man in the brown ship drove us down. Mr. Parsons, in his car, with the other man, is coming to get us.”
“Well, they won’t!” exclaimed Al, scrambling out of the airplane.
“No! You run into the woods to the right of the road.”
Al, as soon as he was on the ground, used his heels to good purpose. Bob, pausing only to bundle up some folds of his coat to make it look, from a distance, as though he carried a package under it, slipped to the road and ran the other way.
Driven down, they nevertheless left the pursuers outwitted.
CHAPTER XXVIII
CURT’S DISCOVERY
“Those books are off my mind,” Curt reflected as he pedaled slowly toward the aircraft plant, “but my legs aren’t. I’d go to bed and rest for a week if it wasn’t for seeing what Griff is up to.”
He had ridden only a block or two away from his uncle’s residence, where he had deposited the books, when a thought occurred to him.