“Stop those men! they have robbed us!” shouted Pep, putting for the spot where the automobile stood and addressing three or four persons who were hastening in the direction of the fire.
One of these halted and looked at Pep as if to take heed of his announcement, but his fellows urged him to come on and laughed at Pep. The outcry had hastened the movements of the thieves. The man in front of the machine jumped into the chauffeur’s seat and seized the wheel.
“You shan’t get away with our property!” declared Pep, gaining on the auto just starting up. “Help! Thieves! Police! Police!”
The man in the rear seat had placed the box by his side. He had both hands free. As Pep leaped to the step and clung there, he reached out both arms. He was a fellow of powerful build, and he was annoyed and angry at the pertinacity of their pursuer. Pep dodged his head and body aside, but the man got a hold on his coat and pulled him clear over into the machine.
“Now go on,” he directed his companion. “I’ll squelch the young wildcat.”
“You won’t! Help! Police—pol——”
The man had Pep down between his knees. He was cruelly brutal, squeezing him down out of view from the street and choking him into silence. Pep gave up all hope now. He was silenced and helpless. The machine made several turns to baffle pursuit, if anyone should follow, and started down a winding road leading into the country.
“Now you sit still there and keep your tongue quiet or I’ll do worse for you next time,” growled his captor, lifting Pep to the seat and holding to one arm.
“Why don’t you pitch him out?” demanded the man acting as chauffeur. “We’re past the hue and cry now.”
“Not from a fellow with his sharp wits,” retorted the other. “He’d find the first telephone, double-quick. He’s made us a lot of trouble. I’ll give him a long walk home for his meddling.”