The meal over, Laura went over to the shed where the motor was kept, to examine it, and Dick hastened to his room to dress in his new clothes. The shirt he found to be a trifle too large for him, as Mr. Watson was six feet three, and he but five feet eleven; but the trousers fitted beautifully.
When he reached the motor-shed, he found Laura busily oiling the engine. The motor was an engine-run hand-car, with a big seat in front and a little one in the rear. He immediately began finicking with it, and presently had it in working order. Then together they shoved the motor onto a side-track which led to the main railway.
Just at that moment several }puck! puck! pucks!" sounded in the distance.
"Pistol-shots!" exclaimed Dick.
They both listened attentively for a minute, during which the firing kept up.
"Those shots came from the direction of the fruit train," said Laura. "Remember, that wretch Simons said they were going to make the loop?"
"And he said something, too, about" Dick tried to remember.
"Concerning those discharged Jamaicans who have turned into bandits," reminded Laura.
"Well, I am going to see what's up!" exclaimed Dick, springing into the motor and starting the engine.
"Here, wait for me," begged Laura.
"You'd better not come," he warned.
"I insist!" and she sprang into the seat beside him.
The engine sputtered, and they were off.
As they spun over the tracks, they strained their ears for more sounds of firing. As Dick was busy with the engine, Laura had drawn her pistol and held it in readiness. Presently they came to quite a little up-grade; in fact, it was so steep that the wheels slipped once or twice. Just as they reached the top they heard the faint sputtering of another motor. Dick turned off the engine and stopped the car.
"It sounds as if they were coming at a terrible speed," he remarked. "They had better be careful or their motor will jump the track."
"I wonder who it can be?"
"Some one either fleeing or in search of help," reasoned Dick aloud. "It must be some one fleeing. Nobody would dare go at the rate they are going if fear did n't make them. Ten to one that bunch of Jamaicans have held up the fruit train and robbed the safe!"
Now the sputtering of the approaching motor was quite loud.
"Here, help me turn the motor," requested Dick, whereupon both of them faced the car about on the tracks. "Now, Laura," he instructed, "hide here in these bushes, and when the motor comes into view, wave your hat to me if it is filled with niggers. I'll be at the bottom of this
