"What kind of a tire made 'em?"
There was no enthusiastic shout this time.
"An automobile tire," ventured Goosey.
"Jes' so, Goosey. Jes' so! It was rubber one, too, why don't you say? Good, safe guess—rubber."
"All right, Chick-chick. Be as funny as you want. If my father ran a garage I reckon I'd know something about tires, too."
"'Scuse me! You certainly right, Goosey. Who ought know automobile tires if not me. What I want you see is these tires can be followed anywhere 'cause they're non-skid with that peculiar bar formation. They'll show up on road so we can follow on dead run, we can."
"How do you know we want to follow? What makes you suppose Mason has gone in the car? Maybe we'll find his tracks going on away from here."
"Bright thought, Goosey. Ev'body look for tracks leading 'way from here."
They searched industriously but in vain.
"No good," decided Chick-chick. "Got old Brick in their wagon, all right, all right. We must go after him, we must."