“Ah’s got fifty-five dollahs, marse, en hit’ll las’ me er long while, yassuh, but doan’ yo’ git de notion hit’ll las’ too long. When hit plays out Ah wants tuh wo’k fo’ yo’.” “I’ll have to hurry, Uncle Tom,” said Matt. “You can stroll along to Hempstead and take your time; but I’ve got important business in New York.” “Yo’s allers doin’ somethin’. Nevah seed sich a fellah fo’ bein’ evahlastin’ly on de go. Ah’m gwine tuh root fo’ yo’, marse. ’Deed Ah is. When good luck come yo’ way, jess yo’ ricollect hit’s Uncle Tom mascottin’. But Ah can do a heap bettah at dat ef Ah’m ’long clos’ tuh yo’. Dishyer long-range mascottin’ done li’ble tuh wind up on er snag. ’Membah dat, too.” “I’ll remember everything, Uncle Tom,” said Matt. “You stay in Hempstead with Topsy. Good-by.” “Good-by, Marse Matt.” Matt shook the darky’s hand warmly, turned and hurried on along the road. Uncle Tom was a grafter, but nevertheless Matt had a warm place in his heart for the old fellow. His peculiarities were all on the humorous side, and Matt could have enjoyed his talk if circumstances had been different. While Matt was striding onward, his thoughts keeping pace with his swift gait, he heard suddenly the hum of a motor in the distance. All motors have the same sort of music. The tempo changes with work at the throttle, but a trained ear can follow the shifting gears; and, now and then, there’s a man who will recognize his car by the croon of the engine alone. It seemed to Matt that there was something familiar in the sound he heard. The road, for a long distance at that particular point, lay in a straight stretch. The car was coming toward Matt, but the trees on either side of the road made the approaching machine indistinct. Their boughs dropped low, and the deep shadows of the westering sun lay heavily across the thoroughfare. Suddenly Matt caught a glimpse of white flashing in the gloom. The runabout! ran his startled thought. Yes, undoubtedly it was the strange hoodoo car that was approaching. What did it mean? Were Levitt and McGlory returning to the Country Club? Had they found the car more than they could manage, and were they taking it back to the garage? This did not seem a satisfactory explanation, and yet Matt could think of nothing else. At a halt in the middle of the road Matt waited for the car to draw near. If McGlory was in the machine, that was as good a time as any for a meeting and an explanation. But the cowboy was not in the car, nor was Levitt, so far as Matt could see, or anybody else. The car was on the reverse, and backing down the road, most marvelously keeping a straight line, although now and then lurching sideways a little and narrowly escaping the trunk of a tree at the roadside. Here was a startling mystery! What had happened to McGlory and Levitt? While Matt wondered, he was making preparations to board the car and do his best to get it under control.