The men were still talking, and the boys crouched behind the car, in silence, waiting for them to start. It seemed to Peanut as if his heart beats must be heard, they were so loud in his breast. Suddenly they heard a rustle and crack in the bushes almost beside them. “What’s that?” said one of the men, sharply. “Oh, a rabbit, or something,” the other replied. “There ain’t a house anywhere ’round here. Don’t be a goat.” “It’s Rob. He’ll spoil everything,” whispered Art, dropping on his hands and knees, and literally crawling out from behind the motor to the roadside bushes where the noise came from. The noise, of course, had ceased when the men spoke. Peanut could no longer see Art, in the shadow of the bushes, but his excited ear could hear the faint sound of a whisper. He wondered why the burglars didn’t hear it, also, but they were talking again, oblivious. A minute later Art returned, and before he could whisper, they heard one of the robbers strike a match. Evidently he looked at the time, for he said, “One o’clock. Let her go.” There was the click of a self starter, and the engine began to purr. A loud cough came from the exhaust at Peanut’s feet, and made him jump. The car began to throb. As it started, both boys swung as lightly as they could up on the trunk rack, their legs dangling out behind, and the motor moved up the road slowly. Having no lights on, the burglars couldn’t drive rapidly. Once they ran off the side into some bushes, and had to reverse. They swore, and evidently turned on the minor head lights, for after that the car went faster and kept the road. The dust sucked up into the boys’ faces. “I gotter sneeze,” whispered Peanut. “Quick, tie your handkerchief over your nose and mouth,” Art whispered back. It was a ticklish job letting go both hands to tie on the handkerchiefs, but they managed to do it without falling off, and the sneezes were averted. The sharp edge of the rack hurt their legs. The dust almost choked them, even through their handkerchiefs. But they clung fast, and for fifteen or twenty minutes--it seemed hours--they rode in this uncomfortable position rapidly through the dark. It was very dark indeed, for most of the way was through woods, and they could scarcely see the stars. Presently the machine stopped. Art yanked off his handkerchief. “They are going to turn it here. Quick, into the bushes when they back up!”