CHAPTER XXVII
TO THE RESCUE
It was an easy matter to run the car a hundred feet or so beyond the side road. Here the trees were slightly scattered, and they had little difficulty in bringing the machine to a halt in the midst of them at a place where there were a few bushes. Then Dave took out the spark plug from the dashboard and placed it in his pocket.
“I don’t believe anybody will bother that car,” he said.
“Perhaps we won’t be gone very long anyhow, Dave. This may prove to be a blind road leading to nothing.”
They pushed on side by side. As it was very warm they had discarded their dust-coats and their goggles. Each had seen to it that his pistol was ready for use, for there was no telling what might confront them.
A little farther on the road took a turn, and here became so stony that the tracks made by the wheels of the car they were following were completely lost. But as there was no place where the machine might have turned around, they felt certain it had gone on.
“We had better keep quiet from now on, Roger,” said our hero in a low voice. “And keep your ears and eyes wide open.”
Two hundred feet more were passed and then Dave came to a halt, at the same time clutching his chum by the arm. From ahead they heard footsteps coming down the rocky roadway. Both made a bound, and crouched behind some trees and brushwood. The approaching person, whoever he was, came closer; and presently the two youths saw that he was a middle-aged man dressed in the garb of a gypsy.
“I’ve seen that fellow before! He is one of the gypsies who used to hang around the outskirts of Crumville!” whispered Dave excitedly.
“Then he must be one of the chaps who ran off with Laura and Jessie!” returned the senator’s son. “What shall we do?”