“Following out a theory,” returned Nick. Then he suddenly aroused himself. “We may be watched from the house,” said he, “and you hadn’t ought to hang around long.” “I’m ready to go now.” “Wait. I’m expecting two of my assistants from New York--Chick and Patsy. It’s ten to one that I’ll be bowling along through the country in this machine before many hours have passed, and I want Chick and Patsy to follow in another auto.” “Where’ll they get the auto?” “There’s one, subject to my order, in the Central House stable--a machine belonging to Mr. Clarkson, one of the directors of the People’s National Bank.” “I know the machine well. Clarkson has been hauled up half a dozen times for exceeding the speed limit.” “Well, that’s the machine I want Chick and Patsy to follow with.” “How will your assistants keep track of you?” “Trust them for that.” “But if the Red Spider pulls out before they get here----” “It won’t. I’ll see that it doesn’t.” Nick had not got quite through with the chief, but was obliged to break off his talk at that moment. There came the sound of a closing door from the brick house, and Martin appeared and came down the steps to the sidewalk. The chief did not attempt to run, but stood his ground. “Hosses aire good enough fer me, by gosh!” he exclaimed. “I wouldn’t give ye twenty-five cents fer a dozen o’ them there machines.” Martin paid no attention to the supposed “hayseed,” beyond flashing a curious look at him as he climbed into the auto. “Back to the hotel, Jones,” said Martin. “G’lang, ye rubber-tired freak!” whooped the man on the walk, as the Red Spider started off. “We’re going to pull out of here to-night,” observed Martin. “Which way do we travel?” “Never you mind which way we travel!” was the sharp response. “All you got to do is to work the levers and steer where I tell you to.” “Certainly, sir.” “We’ll take the Red Spider to the barn,” went on Martin, “and then we’ll go to the hotel.” “Where’ll I put up?” asked Nick. “You remember the room next to the one where you were operating this afternoon?” “Yes, sir.” “Well, it’s empty, and you can occupy that. You’re not going to get out of my sight while we’re in town.” Nick did not fancy this arrangement, but there was nothing else for him to do except to proceed as Martin directed. As they trundled into the bar, they saw another auto standing near the door. “Whose machine is that?” asked Martin. “It belongs to Mr. Clarkson,” replied one of the men connected with the stable. It was an electric vehicle--a fact which Nick was glad to observe. Being electric, it was practically noiseless. The Red Spider, on the other hand, had a gasoline motor, and pounded along in a way that would make it heard at some distance. Chick and Patsy would thus have the advantage in the chase; they could hear the Spider fanning along, but those on the Spider would not be able to hear them. On leaving the barn, Martin and Nick went upstairs to the former’s rooms.