ESCAPE.

It was easy for Matt to guess what had happened. Hank and Spangler had stopped the other car—by rolling the tree across the road again, or in some other way—and had taken possession of the runabout. The scoundrels were in luck to have such a car come their way at just that time.

Being a lighter machine than the touring-car, and fully as powerful, Matt knew that Hank and Spangler had the advantage. The two scoundrels were in desperate earnest, there could be no doubt about that. They had risked much for the pearls and would not let them slip through their fingers now if they could help it.

Pringle was as anxious to get away from the runabout as were Matt and Carl. If Hank and Spangler caught him, their vengeance would be swift and terrible. Pringle's easiest way out of the difficulty was to stay with the two boys.

Although the country through which the road ran was bluffy and rough, yet the road itself traveled the level places and was hard and firm.

Matt speeded up the engine to the limit and drew out every ounce of power.

"Dey're gaining!" shouted Carl; "dey're coming oop on us, Matt! Vell, I t'ink dis is our hoodoo tay, anyvays."

"Tear her to pieces!" cried Pringle. "Is this the best you can do? It will be all day with me if Hank comes alongside!"

They were doing fifty-five miles an hour, and Matt knew that they could not do any better, no matter what happened. He was hoping for something to turn up—that was all that could help them now.

Carl thought that was their hoodoo day, but he had occasion to change his mind.

"Somet'ing iss going wrong mit der odder machine, Matt!" he called. "Dey're preaking down, I bed you."

"That's what!" came from Pringle. "Hank acts as though he wanted to kill the driver. Is the driver making a play, or has something really slipped a cog? They're at a standstill."

Matt decreased the Red Flier's speed and looked back. The driver of the other car was on the ground and both Hank and Spangler were standing over him with drawn guns.

"Judging from what the driver is doing," said Matt, "it can't be a tire they've blown up. Water in the carburetter, perhaps. If that's the case, they'll be after us like a singed cat in less than a minute."

A bend in the road hid those in the touring-car from a view of their enemies behind. The road curved back and forth, through that part of the hills, and Matt was just making ready to let the Flier out again when Pringle made a suggestion.

"You can't give them the slip on a straightaway run, can you?" he called.

"No," answered Matt.

"And if they're only hung up for two or three minutes they'll catch us?"

"Easy."

"Well, I don't want to be hooked by that outfit, and I know a way we can dodge 'em."

"How?"

"Right ahead, on the left, there's a gully in the hills. You can go through it from end to end, easy enough, and at the farther end there's another road. Duck into that gully, quick!"

This seemed like a good move to Matt. He pulled the Red Flier down to the low gear.

"Oof you vas drying to make us some drouples, Pringle," warned Carl, "you vill ged vorse as you have hat yet."

"Aw, splash!" snorted Pringle. "What do you take me for? I was helpin' Denny to skip with the pearls, and Hank would kill me for that, if he could. I'm a lot more anxious to dodge him than you fellows are. Take the gully! I know what I'm talking about. I was through the place with Hank and Spang this morning."

Matt's keen eyes were already surveying the gully, and the ground that lay between the mouth of it and the road. The other car could be heard coming, and there was scant time for making a decision. A turn with the steering-wheel headed the Flier for the opening, and she glided in between the sloping walls of the narrow swale.

Hardly was the car out of sight when the runabout came ripping along in a cloud of dust. None of those aboard saw the Red Flier, but had their eyes on the next turn of the trail.

"Fooled!" laughed Pringle huskily. "If you take my advice, you'll keep going through the gully. As I just said, there is another good road beyond."

This advice seemed good to Matt, for, if they had pushed out into the road again and headed the other way, they might soon find the runabout once more behind them.

The bed of the gully was sandy, but there were no sharp stones or anything else to injure the tires. Proceeding carefully, Matt kept the car headed for the other road.

"I got a bottle of corn-juice in my back pocket," said Pringle, after a while, "and I feel the need of a nip. How about having one, all around?"

"Not for me," returned Matt promptly.

"Und nod for you, neider, Pringle," said Carl. "You vas too mooch oof a feller for der booze, und dot's vat's blayed der tickens mit you."

"How did you come to hook up with Hank, Spangler, and Trymore?" asked Matt.

"If I put you next," replied Pringle, "I expect you to do what you can for me."

"I'll do that—only I want the truth."

"That's what you'll get, right off the bat. I'm down, and you've got the pearls, and Hank and Spang are hot on my trail. I've all to win by putting you wise, and I don't see how I've got anything to lose.

"This Denny Jerome, otherwise Denver Denny, otherwise James Trymore, and some others, is an old pal of mine. We used to turn a knockabout spiel behind the footlights on a little two-by-four Western circuit; but Denny got to selling gold bricks to Jaspers and quit on me. I did a little with him, on the side, but the pace was too swift for my nerve. Denny got jugged, and made a getaway, and a friend told him that Tomlinson had picked up some pearls down in Yuma, and was to bring them back to Denver in his touring-car. That looked like good picking for Denny, and he slid for Brockville, A. T., and sent Hank to Yuma to see whether Tomlinson was really going to tote the pearls along with him or have the sense to put them through to Denver by express.

"Hank's the wise boy, all right, and he not only discovered that Tomlinson was just as foolish as he was made out to be, but picked up the road they were taking from Tomlinson's chauffeur. Hank then took the train for Brockville, Denny sent word to me, and I pulled out to join him and Hank and Spang.

"We laid for the touring-car beyond Ash Fork—stopped it by rolling a big stone into the road. Tomlinson and his driver showed fight, and Denny got a bit of a gouge in the block. He seemed all right, though, and pulled himself together in time to relieve Tomlinson of the silk bag.

"Close by that place where we blocked the trail there's an old adobe hut between two hills. From the looks of it, no one has lived there for a hundred years. The play was for Hank, Spang, and little Bright-eyes to take Tomlinson and the chauffeur to the hut and leave them there, neatly roped. Well, we did it; then, when we flocked back to the road, we found that this nice big car was gone and Denny gone with it. Strange as it may seem, Denny had forgot to leave the pearls.

"Oh, well, the air was blue for a while. Then, after Hank and Spang had taken their oaths they'd get the pearls and Denny's scalp along with 'em, we soldiered along toward Ash Fork, hugging the hills all the way. We went into camp in a dry-wash close to town, and when evening settled down, Hank sneaked into the burg and came back with a hot clue. The Red Flier was in the hotel barn, and Denny was in the hotel. The question was, did Denny have the pearls in his clothes, or had he hid 'em around the automobile? It looked like a raw play for him to keep the pearls in his pocket and run the risk of being caught with the goods, and we were all thinking he must have put 'em in the buzz-wagon.

"Hank and Spang went into town on their horses to have a look through the barn. Just as they had given up trying to find the pearls, some one came in and went to the machine while some one else stood in the door. Hank had a dark lantern—all of Denny's belongings he'd left with us—and he flashed it on the chap by the car. The fellow had a letter. Spang got it. They went after pearls and came back with the paper-talk I'd sent to Spang at Brockville. Then there was more language, and more swearing about what we'd do to Denny when we dropped onto him.

"There were only two ways Denny could go out of Ash Fork. One road was back toward the place where Tomlinson was held up. We knew he wouldn't go that way. The other road headed for Flagstaff. Hank stole an ax and we moved along the Flagstaff road early in the morning. We rode through this gully—that's how I came to know about it—and we crossed the mountain through the crack in the top of it and dropped a tree across the trail. Then we went up into the gap, where we could see a mile or two in every direction, and spotted the car when it came along with our absent-minded pal.

"Hank and Spang rushed down with their horses, just throwing a bluff in order to make sure the car got around the mountain to the tree. After that, Hank and Spang came up the hill, left their horses with me, and scrambled down to a lot of bushes.

"I was holding three horses in the gap. See? Then, all at once, who shows up but Denny. I was for yelling to Hank and Spang, but Denny stops me. He had the pearls, he says, and I might as well have half of 'em. What's the use of letting Hank and Spang in on a good thing when we could have it all to ourselves? Well, I went him one. Denny got onto one horse, and I got onto the other and led the third. You're wise, I guess, that we counted on getting away while that buzz-wagon was hooked to the tree; consequently, we were scared stiff when we heard it climbing after us.

"We took to the timber. What else could we do? The led horse parted company with me, Hank caught it, and then he pushed us hard. My horse tumbled; that left me on foot. All Denny and I had been thinking about was getting back to the car and making you fellows get us out of our hole. We might have made the riffle, I guess, if Denny hadn't played out and tumbled from his saddle. That hurt in the head must have weakened him some; anyhow, he laid on the ground as stiff as a mackerel. Not being able to do anything for Denny, I guessed I'd do what I could for Bright-eyes, so I stopped to get the silk bag. Came pretty near stopping too long, because some one took a shot at me, and I guess I jumped twenty feet.

"Hank was after me, and Hank was on his horse. What's more, Hank had seen me taking the silk bag. I knew right off it was a nip-and-tuck race, with the chances in favor of a man called Pringle getting nipped. Well, I traveled. When I reached a high place and couldn't go on my feet I laid down and rolled over. That's how I got to the car, and was warmly greeted by Pretzel. You know the rest. Is the spiel worth anything?"

Matt, while steering the car through the gully, had been following Pringle closely.

"I'm willing to let you go, Pringle," said he, "providing you take us to the place where you left Tomlinson and his chauffeur, and providing neither of them is hurt."

"Und broviding," added Carl, "you gif me pack vat you dook dot vas mine."

"You're on, both of you!" said Pringle. "I didn't think my dope would bring all that. Ahead of the car is the end of the gully, and just over the end is that nice road I was telling you about. That road will take us past the adobe hut and keep us out of Ash Fork all the way. It might be well to push the pace, though. Now that Hank and Spang have got a machine of their own, they may get the notion that we'll try to do something for James Q. Tomlinson, and make a play to block us."

The unfortunate jeweler had been in Matt's mind all the time, ever since the mystery had cleared enough so he could understand what had happened.

In order to reach the road Pringle described, it was necessary to climb the gully-bank. The climb was a stiff one, but Matt put the Red Flier at it without loss of a moment.

There was warm work ahead—and it would be warmer if Hank and Spang tried to block proceedings with the runabout.