With the other weapon constantly covering his victims, with his gaze never leaving them, he slowly crouched down and groped over the ground till he had secured the plunder lying there, which he also dropped into his pocket. Then he rose erect again, and drew his other weapon. Nick was mentally praying for an opportunity to get just one shot at the knave when he resorted to flight. The flight of the rascal, however, was as original and unexpected as his every other move had been. “Now, Grady,” said he, with threatening austerity, “you do just what I tell you, neither more nor less.” “Begorra! it looks as if I’d have to.” “You bet you will!” “What is it?” “You start that machine of yours slowly, and turn it into the shrubbery at that side of the road.” “How am I going to start it with me hands in the air,” snarled Grady, who had really seen Nick’s desire to delay matters. The voice of the highwayman again took on that vicious ring which had warned Nick not to oppose him then and there. “Don’t you speak again, Grady, or this gun will drown the sound of your voice,” he cried quickly. “You start that machine and turn it into the shrubbery—and don’t forget, either of you, that I shall keep you constantly covered. Start her up, Grady, and turn sharp out of the road!” With the ugliest kind of a scowl, Grady gripped the steering-bar and slowly started the runabout, turning toward the shrubbery that lined the road in that locality. Just as the Irishman did so, however, there suddenly sounded from up the road the warning toot of an automobile-horn. “Steady!—not a move!” yelled the robber warningly. “If you drop your hands, mister, I’ll fire!” Nick could not then see the scoundrel, for he had darted back of the runabout when Grady turned it from the road. Glancing quickly in the direction from which the horn had sounded, however, Nick now beheld a large touring-car come sweeping around a sharp curve of the road, some thirty yards away. It was driven by a man with a beard, who was the one occupant of the car, and whose eyes and features were almost entirely masked with a pair of huge dust-glasses. Nick now thought he could see a favorable finish to this unexpected hold-up, for the touring-car was approaching at a high rate of speed, and the escape of the thief appeared next to impossible. Yet the latter, while reiterating his threatening commands, only backed a few paces toward the middle of the road. The man in the approaching car evidently saw what was going on, and he began to slow down. The rear of the runabout was now toward the road, with the machine half-hidden in the shrubbery. “Stop her!” whispered Nick, not yet venturing to turn about on the seat. “Stop her at once!” He did not wish to go too far in from the road. Grady felt that he was taking his life in his hand—yet he promptly obeyed. Instantly two sharp reports of a revolver rang out on the morning air.