"Yes, it was on the road back of here—just before you turn into this highway."
"You mean the road that was so thick with dust?" remarked Tom.
"That's the place. He jumped off at a spot where the bushes are pretty thick, and there are three trees standin' close together just back of the bushes."
"I think I know that place," said Dick. "There is a small white cottage on the hillside just behind it."
"You've struck it," answered the stage driver. "I reckon as how he was goin' to call on somebody at the cottage. But why he didn't ask me to stop is a mystery. Why! he might have broken a leg gettin' off that way."
"That man is a criminal, and he did it to throw you off his track," announced Sam. "Do you know what I think?" he continued to his brothers. "I think Blackie Crowden must have gotten on to the fact that we were at Fernwood, and made up his mind to clear out as soon as possible. Then he got afraid that we might question folks, including this stage driver, and so jumped from the auto-stage to throw us off his trail, provided we should follow the stage."
"I guess you have struck the nail on the head, Sam," answered his oldest brother. "But come on, let us see if we can find some trace of him." And in less than a minute more they had turned their machine around and were heading for the spot mentioned to them by the stage driver.
It was only a short run, and soon they halted beside the bushes hedging in three tall trees. Eagerly they looked around in all directions, but not a soul was in sight.
"I'm going up to the farmhouse," announced Sam.
"And I'll go with you," added Dick. "Tom, you stay down here and take a look around. If you see anything of him blow the auto horn three times."