Ping was not many minutes recovering the use of his tongue. McGlory grabbed him and shook his powers of speech back into their normal condition.

"Where's Motor Matt?" cried McGlory.

"My no savvy!"

"How did you happen to be here?"

"Stleet cal."

"What're you making a run from the show grounds for without saying a word to Matt?"

That was a point which Ping did not care to reveal. He was not above being careless with the truth in a pinch, having been raised that way. But, while he might resort to a little harmless fiction with McGlory, he would have cut his tongue out before he would have fibbed to Motor Matt.

"Makee see Wily Bill ketchee cal," Ping explained; "my ketchee same cal. Follow Wily Bill. Wily Bill jump from cal. My jump, too. Tumble all ovel load. Wily Bill lun fo' top-side bank. Motol Matt chasee. Motol Matt leavee gas hlorsee by bank. My follow, no findee."

Out of this pigeon English McGlory captured a few germs of sense.

"What the nation was he following Wily for?" demanded Burton. "How did he know we wanted Wily?"

Ping was still equal to the emergency.

"Dutchy boy havee low with Wily Bill," he explained.

"That's right," went on Burton; "you were around during the row. I'd forgotten that. That may have been enough to put you on Wily's trail, although I can't figure it out exactly. But you followed him, and then you followed Matt when he ran after Wily. They went up the bank and into the woods, you say?"

"Allee same."

"Then where did they go?" demanded McGlory.

"Makee tlacks fo' house with green blinds."

[Pg 13]

"They made tracks for a house with green blinds? Now we're getting at it. Where's this house?"

"Othel side woods. My findee, you savvy; makee sit down, do heap big think. Bymby, 'long come Wily Bill, unlock do', go in house. Plenty soon, 'long come Motol Matt, go in house, too." Ping became oppressed with the awe aroused by the event next to be described, and his voice sank into a husky whisper. "My makee tlacks inside, hunt evel place, no can find. House allee same empty. Motol Matt disappeal, vanish, makee go up in smoke. Woosh! My plenty 'flaid."

"What's he givin' us?" snorted Burton. "He's talking through his hat, seems like, to me."

"He's run into something that he can't cumtux," returned McGlory. "It's plain enough, though, that a house with green shutters is at the end of our trail. Ping can take us there, and it will be up to us to do the rest."

"Say, young feller!" cried Burton, standing up in the runabout and addressing the lad from the motor-car works.

The latter was pulling his motor cycle out of the bushes and making ready to forge away on the rest of his "century" run.

"Well?" returned the youth, one leg over the saddle and ready to pedal off.

"Load that machine into the runabout and drive this rig back to the show grounds for me, will you?" requested Burton. "I'm hungry to see this game through, and I can't leave the horse hitched in the road."

"Couldn't get the motor cycle into the buggy," was the answer. "Anyhow, I guess I've helped you about as much as you could reasonably expect."

"There's twenty coming to you," went on Burton. "Take the rig back and I'll make it thirty."

"There's nothing coming to me. I told Motor Matt he could use the machine, and welcome. Now that he's done with it, I'll go on with my run."

The motor began to pop, and presently settled into a steady hum. A minute later the motor cycle and its rider were out of sight.

Just then, when it looked as though Burton was to be permanently retired from the rest of the pursuit, a street car from the lake rattled to a halt, and Carl and Twomley dropped from the steps.

"Here's the Englishman," muttered McGlory, without much enthusiasm.

"And Carl!" added Burton. "He'll take the rig back for me, and the rest of us will start for the house with the green shutters."

"Vat's to pay?" clamored Carl, running toward McGlory and Ping.

Ping's confidence in Carl, like Carl's confidence in Ping, was badly "shook." The Chinese boy backed away.

"Here, Carl," cried Burton. "Jump into the runabout and take it back to the grounds for me. I've got business with McGlory."

"Meppy I don'd got some pitzness mit McGlory, same as you," demurred Carl. "Vere iss Modor Matt?"

"There's no time to palaver, Carl," interposed McGlory. "Take the rig back."

When Matt was away, McGlory was the boss. Carl could ............