“Wait a minute!” shouted Matt. “Where you going?” The man turned. “Krug’s,” he answered. “I’ll get a decent, respectable car there to take me on.” “You can telephone to a garage from Krug’s,” suggested Billy, “and they can send some one to get the runabout home.” “I’m done with the runabout, I tell you. It can stay where it is until the tires rot, for all of me.” “I’ll agree to get it back to the city for you,” said Matt. “My name’s King, Matt King, and I’m staying at----” The man’s rage subsided a little. “You’re Matt King?” he inquired. “Yes.” “I understand, now, how you happen to know so much about tubes. They say you’re pretty well up in motors, too. Well, here’s where I give you the job of your life. Matt King, I make you a present of that runabout. Take it--but Heaven help you if you try to run it.” Thereupon the man whirled around and strode off. “Oh, I say,” yelled Matt, “you don’t mean it. Wait, and I’ll----” But the man swung onward, paying no heed to what Matt was calling after him. Matt King turned and peered in amazement at his cowboy chum. “Sufferin’ tenterhooks!” exclaimed McGlory. “You’re loaded up with a bunch of trouble now, pard.” “Come on,” urged Billy, moving toward the touring car with considerable haste. “Don’t lay a finger on that runabout--don’t have a thing to do with it.” But Matt was face to face with a proposition that caught his fancy. A refractory automobile! Never yet had he encountered a machine that had got the best of him. And this runabout couldn’t do it--he was positive of that. CHAPTER II. MATT KING’S RESOLVE. “That man was so mad he was locoed,” observed the cowboy. “Certainly he was, Joe,” agreed Matt. “If he hadn’t been, he’d never have given away that machine. It’s a powerful car and worth twenty-five hundred of any man’s money.” “Don’t tamper with it, Matt,” implored Billy. “When that fellow gets over his mad spell he’ll want the runabout back. Let him have it--and let him find it right where he left it.” “If he hadn’t been worked up like he was,” said Matt, “he wouldn’t have given the car to me. I won’t take it, of course, but Joe and I will use it to take us to the Malvern Country Club, and then back to Manhattan. By to-morrow that fellow will be looking for me and wanting his car back.” “You wouldn’t think of such a thing as wanting to bother with that runabout!” gasped Billy, from his seat in the touring car. “Yes, I would,” answered Matt. “Why not?” “The number--thirteen thirteen!” “Bosh!” “It’s a hoodoo car.” “Never mind about that, Billy. You go on to Krug’s Corner and get a stout rope. If you overtake the owner of the runabout you can give him a lift. See him, anyhow, and tell him we’ll take the runabout to New York and that he can have it whenever he wants it.” “Don’t do it!” begged Billy. “I’ve seen enough of these hoodoo cars to know they’ll prove the death of somebody. Don’t let that runabout prove the death of you!”