Both began an eager search, and were soon rewarded by seeing where the touring-car they were following had left the mountain road and passed in among some trees and bushes on the right. Close at hand was a spring of water, and beyond this the remains of a tumbled-down barn.
“I see the car!” whispered Dave, and pointed to the machine, which rested behind some rocks and brushwood. One glance at the automobile showed that it was deserted.
“They can’t be very far off,” said Roger in a low voice. “Dave, what do you think we had better do next?”
“Let us get behind the trees and bushes and reconnoiter,” was the answer. “Be very careful, Roger, so that you don’t expose yourself. We don’t want to tumble into a hornet’s nest.”
“Don’t you think we had better go back to town and get help, or wait until your Uncle Dunston arrives?”
“Maybe we’ll have to do that. But I want to discover where the girls are first, if I possibly can.”
With extreme caution the young men moved along behind the trees. They saw that from the dilapidated barn a trail ran over some rough rocks to where was located a large bungalow. This had evidently been unused for years, and was almost as dilapidated as the other building. One end of the front porch had fallen down, and many of the windows had the glass broken out of them.
“I’d like to wager that this is the place to which they brought the girls,” whispered Roger.
“I think you’re right,” answered Dave. “And if that is so, and those rascals are around here, we want to be more careful than ever.”
Nobody was in sight around the dilapidated bungalow, and not a sound came from within. Presently, however, Dave noticed a thin wreath of smoke curling up from the chimney.