"I don't know who got the animal," answered Mr. Hoover. "I was away at the time, and a stable boy let him out. He declares the fellow said he was a friend of mine, and that it would be all right."
"And was the fellow dressed in a heavy, gray overcoat and a heavy fur cap?" asked Sam.
"Yes, that was the description the stable boy gave. When he found I didn't know anything about the man he was scared to death, because I told him that if the horse didn't come back I'd make him pay for the animal."
"Then that's all we want to know, Mr. Hoover," answered Songbird. "I'm pretty sure now I know who it was that knocked me down and robbed me."
"He was a rascal, all right," answered the livery stable man. "I had to pay old Bray four dollars to get my own horse back," he added, sulkily.
As the long ride in the open air had made them hungry, the two youths went to the restaurant in Knoxbury for dinner. Then the automobile was turned once more in the direction of Ashton.
"I'll have that photograph enlarged by Clinger," said Songbird, referring to a photographer in the town who did a great deal of work for the Brill and Hope students. "Then I'll have copies sent to the various police stations, even to New York, Chicago and Denver, along with a description of Blackie Crowden."
"That's the talk, Songbird. Oh, I am sure we'll get on his trail sooner or later," said Sam. But though he spoke light-heartedly for his chum's benefit, he knew that to trace the criminal would be by no means easy. With the four thousand dollars in his possession, Blackie Crowden would probably make every effort to keep from being discovered.
As they sped along the road, Songbird could not help becoming poetical, and despite his blueness he managed to concoct the following doggerel:
"The engine hums—advance the spark,
Turn on the throttle—what a lark!
Away we go like a flash of light
Over the hill and out of sight."