"What yer want?" growled Hellig, thickly.
"We are going to leave you both here and run the cars ourselves,"
answered Dick, coldly. "You are not fit to run them."
"What's the reason we ain't?" mumbled Snall. He could hardly speak.
"You've been drinking too much--that's the reason."
"Humph!"
"We are going to run them machines an' don't you forgit it," mumbled
Hellig, and lurched forward.
"Don't you ride with those intoxicated fellows," said one of the hotel
guests.
"We don't intend to," answered Dick. "All ready, Tom?" he called out.
"Yes."
"Then go ahead. I'll catch up to you."
"Hi, you stop!" screamed Snall, as one of the automobiles began to
move off down the road. But Tom paid no attention to him.
Running swiftly, Dick reached the other car and hopped up to the
chauffeur's seat. He had watched the driver operate the car and knew
exactly what to do. He soon had the engine running and then he threw
in the speed clutch just as Hellig lurched up.
"You mustn't ran away with that machine!" he roared.
"Keep away!" cried Sam, and leaning out of the car he gave the
chauffeur a shove that sent him flat on his back in the dust of the
road. Then the car moved off.
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