clapping her hands. "Now, Martha, your troubles are over."

"Six-cylinder, and sounds as if it hadn't been out of the shop a week,
or may I never ride in a machine again," Wemple remarked, looking to
Davies for confirmation.

Davies nodded.

"It's Allison's," he said. "Campos tried to shake him down for a private
loan, and--well, you know Allison. He told Campos to go to. And Campos,
in revenge, commandeered his new car. That was two days ago, before we
lifted a hand at Vera Cruz. Allison told me yesterday the last he'd
heard of the car it was on a steamboat bound up river. And here's where
they ditched it--but let's get a hustle on and get her into the
running."

Three attempts they made, with young Drexel at the wheel; but the soft
earth and the pitch of the grade baffled.

"She's got the power all right," young Drexel protested. "But she can't
bite into that mush."

So far, they had spread on the ground the robes found in the car.
The men now added their coats, and Wemple, for additional traction,
unsaddled the roan, and spread the cinches, stirrup leathers, saddle
blanket, and bridle in the way of the wheels. The car took the
treacherous slope in a rush, with churning wheels biting into the woven
fabrics; and, with no more than a hint of hesitation, it cleared the
crest and swung into the road.