"That man who stuttered so terribly said something about going to Stockbridge," put in the woman. "Perhaps he was going there."
"On foot?"
"I don't think so. Most likely he took the stage. That left about ten minutes ago."
"Was the man alone?" asked Tom.
"I think he was, although I am not sure. He came in during the lunch hour and after that I saw him talking to a salesman who had been staying here—a man who just went off on the train."
"You mean a man who went off to catch the train," grinned Tom. "He didn't get it, and he's as mad as a hornet on that account."
The two Rovers asked several more questions and found out that the stage which left Fernwood twice a day passed through Stockbridge on its way to Riverview, six miles farther on.
"They used to use horses," explained the hotel man, "but last year Jerry Lagger got himself an auto, so he makes the run pretty quick these days."
"Come on, Sam, let's get one of our autos and follow that stage," cried Tom, and set off on a run for the other hotel, quickly followed by his brother. They burst in on Dick just as the latter was posting the letter which he had written to their father.
"Say! that would be great if it was Blackie Crowden and we could capture him," cried Dick, on hearing what they had to say. "You get the auto ready while I tell the others where we are going."