The motorcycle had been stolen. There was no doubt of that. That it had been stolen within that past five minutes, he knew. When the boys were coming out of the water he thought he had heard the clatter of a machine, but at the time he had paid no attention to the sound, thinking it came from the main road.
"Come on!" he shouted. "We'll chase him."
"Which way has he gone?" gasped Chet.
Frank looked at the road. It was not a traveled thoroughfare and weeds and grass were in the ruts. It was impossible to see any sign of the tire tread.
"Joe and I will go ahead," he decided. "Chet, you and Biff go on back to the main road on your bike. If you don't get any trace of him, wait for us."
He sprang onto Joe's motorcycle and his brother leaped up behind. Biff Hooper was just emerging from the bushes and Chet quickly told him what had happened.
In a moment the two machines were roaring off along the road in opposite directions, Chet and Biff returning to the highway and the Hardy boys going on down the country lane.
Once past the lake, Joe and Frank found the going was rough. Presumably, it was just a lane connecting with the highway, and there was little traffic over it. The motorcycle bumped along, Frank letting the machine out as much as he dared.
They came to a dusty spot in the lane and Frank gave a cry of exultation.
"This is the way he went! There's the tire marks!"