Perhaps it should be explained that, following their uncomfortable experience in pursuit of the Auto Boys through the Cowslip marshes, Mr. Gouger had even less admiration for Marshal Wellock than he had entertained before. And now, as he saw the strange automobile approaching, he realized that it was traveling at a considerably higher speed than the ordinances of the town permitted. Also he realized that if Marshal Wellock chanced to see the law's violation by these young strangers he would pounce upon them instantly. In no mood was the marshal, of late particularly, to let any motorist escape if there was the slightest reason for an arrest. The officer had been made the butt of too much ridicule as a result of that chase that ended with him head first in the mud to be in a very amiable temper. He wanted only the excuse and he would clap into jail any strange automobile user who entered the town. Well aware of all this, and well aware that he, himself, detective though he feign would be, was powerless to make an arrest, Mr. Gouger hastily planned a deep and crafty plan. He would win for himself a degree of glory which should make Marshal Wellock appear, in contrast, a most negligent and inefficient officer, to say the least. Frantically waving his arms, Mr. Gouger rushed into the street as the strange car and its three passengers drew near. Pickton brought the machine to a halt. "You chaps will get arrested if ye don't watch out!" declared Mr. Gouger, vehemently, a little irritated by Gaines' instant and by no means polite inquiry, "What's hurting _you_?" "Fact is, you've been speeding half way through town. I own a machine, myself, an' I know. Maybe there's a warrant out for ye now," he continued rapidly. Pickton's jaw fell and Gaines felt a giving way inside as if his upper and lower halves had suddenly parted company at the waist line. "Guess--guess--we'd better not stop to talk about it then," said Freddy Perth, brokenly, but with a sadly forced grin. "Tell ye what, slip 'round here with me. Drive up slow. I'll get ye into my barn an' a little later ye can slip out o' town," Mr. Gouger suggested. There was a gleam in his eye, however, and a sort of internal chuckle in his tones that would have been a warning had any of the Trio noticed them. "Well, blame it all! Show us _where_," growled Pickton, noticeably bolder now. "Lead on!"--This with solemn, dramatic air that would have been ridiculous had it not been so tragic. Mr. Gouger wasted time in very few more words. Through an alley he escorted the Trio, still in the car, to the yard at the rear of his own modest, frame dwelling in a side street close by. Asking the lads to leave their car partially screened from view beneath the low-branching cherry trees, he invited them into a small, tightly-boarded cowstable.