But he stepped away, unconscious, and took something out of the tonneau of the car.
“Got the sacks?” the other asked.
“O. K.,” said the first.
The two men moved up the road on foot, leaving the car behind, beside the road. Art held Peanut down till they were so far away that their footsteps were not audible. Then he sprang up.
“Quick!” he whispered, “take your hatchet and cut the tires. Don’t chop and make a noise—draw the edge over.”
“They’ll explode,” said Peanut.
“That’s so. Wait—find the valves, and let the air out!”
The two boys worked rapidly, with matches. They let the air out of each tire, and then cut the rubber through, to make doubly sure.
“Wish I knew more about cars,” Art said. “There must be some way to put the engine on the blink.”
Peanut lifted the hood. “Hold a match—not too close!” he said. “Here—here’s a wire. That’ll disconnect the battery, or something.”