Bud Takes To The Hills

He speedily had all the attention of the chief, and having thought
out in advance his answers to certain pertinent questions, he did not
stutter when they were asked. Yes, he had been hired to drive the ear
south, and he had overheard enough to make him suspicious on the way. He
knew that they had stolen the car. He was not absolutely sure that
they were the diamond thieves but it would be easy enough to find out,
because officers sent after them would naturally be mistaken for first
aid from some garage, and the cops could nab the men and look into that
grip they were so careful not to let out of their sight.

"Are you sure they won't get the car repaired and go on?" It was
perfectly natural that the chief should fear that very thing.

"No chance!" Bud chuckled into the 'phone. "Not a chance in the world,
chief. They'll be right there where I left 'em, unless some car comes
along and gives 'em a tow. And if that happens you'll be able to trace
'em." He started to hang up, and added another bit of advice. "Say,
chief, you better tell whoever gets the car, to empty the gas tank and
clean out the carburetor and vacuum feed--and she'll go, all right!
Adios."

He hung up and paid the charge hurriedly, and went out and down a
crooked little lane that led between bushes to a creek and heavy timber.
It did not seem to him advisable to linger; the San Francisco chief of
police might set some officer in that village on his trail, just as a
matter of precaution. Bud told himself that he would do it were he in
the chief's place. When he reached the woods along the creek he ran,
keeping as much as possible on thick leaf mold that left the least
impression. He headed to the east, as nearly as he could judge, and when
he came to a rocky canyon he struck into it.