“Waal!” growled one of the men, with an ugly leer, “we didn’t hardly expec’ ter run inter such luck ez this.  Foun’ suthin’ vallerable, hev yer?  Reckin’ it must hev bin dropped by that auto that jes’ went round the corner beyond.  We’ll hev ter trouble you for it, miss.”

He held out a filthy hand, while Peggy, with a beating heart, fell back toward the car.

“Frum what we hearn’ yer sayin’, I guess the papers is vallerable, all right,” chimed in the first speaker’s companion.  “Come on, now.  Fork over.  You know it ain’t honest ter take wot don’t berlong ter ye, an’ by yer own confession them papers don’t.”

“What right have you to demand them?” asked Peggy boldly enough, despite her inward terror; “you had better go on at once, or——­”

“Waal, or what?” sneered the other.  “We’ve got ye here on a lonely road.  You can’t escape us.  Come on, hand over them papers.  We’ll see that ther rightful owners git ’em, and that we git er reward beside.  See?”

Peggy’s reply was to leap nimbly into the machine.  But to her horror the two tramps followed instantly.  Jess cowered back in her seat.  Her pale lips moved, but she said nothing.

“Tell yer wot,” burst out the man with the club, “you gals give us ten bones a piece—­the money don’t mean much to folks like you—­an’ we’ll let yer go.  If not——­”

A sudden inspiration came to Peggy—­a flash of recollection.

“Why didn’t you say that before?” she said cheerfully.  “I’ll be glad to give you the money.  Wait a minute while I get it out.”

She raised the cushion of the front “bucket seat,” and dived beneath it with one hand.  The men watched her with greedy, yet suspicious eyes.

“Ain’t tryin’ ter fool us, are yer?” growled one of them, “’cos ef you air——­”

He raised his club threateningly, just as Peggy’s hand withdrew from beneath the cushion.  Something bright flashed in it.

“Look out, Mike.  She’s got a gun!” shouted one of the men, falling back.

The other whipped a hand amidst his rags and was just about to aim a pistol, when: 

“Phiz-z-z-z-z-z-z-z!”

From the shiny object Peggy held in her hand, a fine stream of some sort of liquid jetted forcibly.

The fellow with the gun threw his hands up to his face, and dropping the pistol, staggered back with a howl of agony.  The other darted off without even looking at him.  The air was filled with a pungent scent of ammonia, and a quiet smile of triumph curled Peggy’s red lips as she started the car in motion once more.

“Oh, Peggy, how brave you are!” gasped Jess.  “Whatever was that you used?  I hope the poor man isn’t badly hurt, although he was so horrid.”

“I just remembered in time, Jess dear,” said Peggy, as she sped the car along, “that we had under the seat an ammonia pistol for use on vicious dogs.  I used it on another sort of a dog, that’s all, and it proved equally effective.”