They held up another car with two men in it, and robbed them of insignificant trifles in what theybelieved to be a most ludicrous manner. Afterward they enjoyed prolonged spasms of mirth, theircachinnations carrying far out over the flat lands disturbing inoffensive truck gardeners in theirsleep. They cried "S-o-m-e time!" so often that the phrase struck even their fuddled brains as beingsilly.They met another car-a large car with three women in the tonneau. These, evidently, were homegoing theatre patrons who had indulged themselves in a supper afterwards. They were talking quietlyas they came unsuspectingly up to the big, shiny machine that was traveling slowly townward, andthey gave it no more than a glance as they passed.Then came the explosion, that sounded surprisingly like a blowout. The driver stopped and got outto look for trouble, his companion at his heels. They confronted six masked men, three of themdisplaying six-shooters."Throw up your hands!" commanded a carefully disguised voice.The driver obeyed-but his right hand came up with an automatic pistol in it. He fired straight intothe bunch-foolishly, perhaps; at any rate harmlessly, though they heard the bullet sing as it wentby. Startled, one of the six fired back impulsively, and the other two followed his example. Had theytried to kill, in the night and drunk as they were, they probably would have failed; but firing atrandom, one bullet struck flesh. The man with the automatic flinched backward, reeled forwarddrunkenly and went down slowly, his companion grasping futilely at his slipping body."Hey, you darn mutts, whatcha shootin' for? Hell of a josh, that is!" Jack shouted angrily andunguardedly. "Cut that out and pile in here!"While the last man was clawing in through the door, Jack let in the clutch, slamming the gear-leverfrom low to high and skipping altogether the intermediate. The big car leaped forward and Hen bithis tongue so that it bled. Behind them was confused shouting.