"I didn't see anybody else,—but then I wasn't watchin' very closely," explained the storekeeper.
The only other persons in sight besides the storekeeper were two children, too small to be questioned about the stage passengers. The Rovers looked at each other questioningly.
"Might as well go right through and follow that stage," said Dick. "If he is on board, there is no use of letting him get away. If he isn't, we can come back here and look for him."
The others deemed this good advice, and in a moment more they left Stockbridge at a rate of speed which made the storekeeper leap up from his comfortable chair to gaze after them in amazement.
"Some of them speeders," he murmured to himself. "If they don't look out they'll be took in for breakin' the law."
For a mile or more the road outside of Stockbridge was fairly good. Beyond, it grew poorer and poorer, and Tom had to reduce speed once more for fear of another puncture, or a blowout. As they sped along the highway all the youths kept a sharp lookout for Blackie Crowden, but no one came in sight who answered in the least to the description of that individual.
"I'm sure I'd know him if I saw him," said Sam, who had studied a copy of the man's photograph.
"So would I," answered Tom. "He's got a face that is somewhat unusual;" and to this Dick agreed.
On and on they went, the road now being little more than a country lane. Here the dust was about six inches deep, and a big cloud floated behind the machine.
"Almost looks as if we were on the wrong road again," observed Dick. But hardly had he spoken when they came out to another crossroad. Here a signboard pointed to the left, and the highway was as good as any they had yet traveled.