The railroad yard was beside him now, on his left hand, and the sounds of shunting freight cars and of exhausting steam reached him. Beyond a long freight house a swinging lantern made yellow arcs in the darkness. Then, almost before he was aware of its proximity, the Porterville road swung away from the cobbled thoroughfare and the red tail light of the car ahead was whisked from sight. CHAPTER VIII JOE RESIGNS Instinctively Joe worked harder at the pedals and gained the corner; was around it before the futility of further pursuit came to him. He looked back for sight of a policeman but saw only the empty street. Before him stretched a long, gradually curving road, picked out at long intervals by lights. Far ahead now was that tiny red speck that he had been following. Porterville was two miles away, yet at Porterville there might be an officer at the ferry house. At least, thought Joe, he could give the alarm there. He was pretty tired, more tired, indeed, than he realized, but he knew that he was good for two miles more. He wished devoutly that he was mounted on Sam’s light, high-geared Arrow instead of the cumbersome heavy steed beneath him! All these reflections had not relaxed his efforts, and now he was well out on the Porterville road, with the sluggish river flowing at a stone-throw on his left. The automobile was far away, but he could still see the tail light, and he was presently encouraged to find that it was not gaining on him. Perhaps even on this unfrequented road the thieves were not minded to attract notice by too much speed. There was, too, as Joe had heard, a motor policeman detailed for that stretch, and he guessed the thieves were afraid of being halted. The recollection of the motor policeman brought a throb of joy to Joe. If he could find him the race would soon be over! But he didn’t find him. It seemed to Joe that to-night, when they were needed the worst way, all the policemen in the world had utterly vanished! In the end he toiled into the tiny hamlet of Porterville, to use his own expression, “just about all in.” The car had disappeared from sight half a mile back, but he was pretty sure that he knew where it was. The business center of Porterville consisted of about as many stores as there were corners at the intersection of two streets. Of these, one showed lights, and in front of it a handful of loiterers were standing underneath the inscription “General Store――U. S. Post Office.” Joe swung up to the curb, panting hard. “Say, where’s there a cop?” he demanded breathlessly. No one replied for an instant. Then a tall youth turned and hailed a man standing in the doorway. “Hey, Gene, seen Bill Cooper lately?” “Bill? Yeah, he was around about ten minutes ago. Guess he’s down to the wharf.” “What you want him for?” inquired a third citizen of the busy metropolis. But Joe was already under way once more.