“Yes, we’ll keep our eyes wide open.”
They presently found themselves on a lonely stretch of the country road, and here it was so dark they had to turn on all the lights of the machine.
“I’d give all I’m worth, Dave, if we could catch sight of that other car,” remarked Roger, after a spell of silence.
“I’m afraid that’s too much to hope for,” answered our hero, with a grim smile. “We ought to be thankful that we have learned as much as we have. If we hadn’t met that fellow on the motorcycle down at the Crossing, we might still be hunting for clues along the line of the railroad between Crandall and Boston.”
“Oh, yes, I think we’ve done wonderfully well.”
On the way to Frytown they stopped at six or seven farmhouses, but without learning anything that was to their advantage. Two farmers had seen the big touring car with the battered mud-guard go by a week or two before, but could give no definite information as to who had been driving it or what passengers the automobile had contained.
“So many machines comin’ and goin’ these days, a feller don’t pay much ’tention to ’em,” was the way one farmer expressed himself.
“I know it,” answered Dave. “But we are very anxious to find that car, so I thought it wouldn’t do any harm to ask.”
“Oh, no harm whatever,” said the farmer.
When the chums reached Frytown it was after nine o’clock. They made their way at once to the American House, the hotel which the Kapton storekeeper had mentioned, and there placed their machine in the garage, engaged a room, and asked if they might be served with something to eat.