“I don’t want to round them up so much as I want to rescue Jessie and Laura,” was the reply.
“I’m glad to learn that they are well, Dave.”
“But we can’t be sure of that, Roger. That card may have been signed under compulsion, or it may have been signed some days ago. There is no telling what condition the girls are in just now. They may have been dreadfully mistreated,” and the look on Dave’s face showed his great anxiety.
The chums explained the situation to the hotel proprietor, who promised to aid them in every way possible. Then they had breakfast, paid their bill, and rode away from the hotel. They stopped at the garage where Horsehair was in charge, and there purchased some gasoline and oil and had a little more air put in their tires.
“Now don’t forget, Horsehair,” said Dave. “If that fellow puts in an appearance with that battered-up car—or anybody else comes with that car—be sure to have the fellow held. I don’t care how you do it—just see to it that he doesn’t get away. If he talks about damages, or anything like that, don’t pay any attention to him. We’ll foot the bill, if there’s anything to pay.”
“All right, Porter, you leave it to me,” answered the former stage-driver of Oak Hall. “If I git my claws on ’im, you bet your boots he ain’t goin’ to git away, nohow.”
“And remember, if you see any of those people, or see any people who look like gypsies around here, either let me know, or else leave word at the hotel for my uncle, Dunston Porter.”
“Is he here?”
“Not yet. But I expect him up here before to-night.”
Dave had questioned Horsehair about the road to Cullomburg, and had been told that it was a winding highway, passing over two small hills, and then going up into the mountains beyond. There were a number of cross-roads, but none of these was in very good condition, and that to travel them in an automobile would be difficult.