Their satisfaction was increased when they found that the tracks led straight to the roundhouse. Here there were great piles of ashes that had been dropped from the fire boxes of the locomotives when they were being shifted or put up for the night. It was quite clear that here was the place where the hand cart had been filled.
But their elation received a sudden check when they prepared to trace the wheel prints to the shabby shack in town where Joe lived with his numerous brood. For now they were in the outskirts of the town, where wagons were coming and going all the time, and the tracks they had been following were lost in a multitude of others.
They looked at each other a little sheepishly.
“Stung!” muttered Fred.
“Bum detectives we are,” grinned Sparrow.
“We’re up a tree now for sure,” declared Sparrow.
“All this walk for nothing,” growled Pee Wee.
“We do seem to be stumped,” admitted Bobby. “What do you say to going to Joe and asking him right up and down whether he did it or not?”
“Swell chance we’d have of getting anything out of him,” commented Mouser.
“He’d lie about it sure,” declared Sparrow.