Tom lost no time. He gave Ben a few instructions, and then hastened homewards on a run. Within half an hour he was mounted on a horse, and following the main road west in the direction the kidnappers had taken. He had made a brief explanation to one of his father’s field hands, and the man was started on horseback down the branching road.
Tom stopped at half a dozen farm houses and made inquiries, but found no one who had seen a wagon pass answering to his description. He reached in turn three small settlements, met with no success in his quest, and turned around and made for home, disappointed and concerned, but hoping that the hired man had met with better luck.
His messenger, however, had not returned, he found when he reached the farm. There was an hour of anxious waiting. Finally the man rode up.
“What news?” inquired Tom eagerly.
“I traced the wagon five miles,” reported the man, “lost it at the crossroads, and couldn’t get the trail again.”
Tom hurried to the telephone and called up every exchange within a radius of twenty miles, explaining briefly but clearly what he wanted.
“About all you can do is to wait, Tom,” said his mother, who tried to conceal her solicitude for the missing boy.
“It seems to me those men cannot get through the network of people watching out for them,” spoke Tom. “I must do all I can, though, myself, for Harry.”
Our hero started off again on horseback. He took another route this time. It was seven o’clock when he got back home again. No trace of the kidnappers had been reported.
Ben had locked up at the tower, and was waiting for Tom at the Barnes’ home in a great state of impatience. Tom, after reporting to his mother, called his chum outside.