The motor was shut off and the auto stopped. The two slid down off the driver's seat and plunged into the thick, rain-drenched bushes on the right of the road.
"Got your automatic?" panted Tom, as he lunged forward.
"Sure!"
"Have it ready."
"What's the game?"
"We'll try to spot those fellows who were taking pot shots at us. Maybe we can do a little potting on our own account."
"That would suit me," growled Ned.
Their position was most uncomfortable. Neither had on any protection from the rain now, for they had taken off their rubber boots and coats on getting back into the House on Wheels. They had even dived off the seat without their caps. It was like emerging from the protection of a comfortable room into the rain-swept open.
"Good thing we ate when we did, or we'd never have gotten anything," remarked Tom, as he tramped along beside his chum.
"That's right. But where are we, anyhow?"