A snapping and crackling sound among the bushes ahead lured the boys on and they went plunging through the woods. They failed to catch sight of the quarry, however. Evidently Montrose was well acquainted with this part of the country, for after a while the sounds of his retreat died away.
Frank, who was in the lead, came to a stop, realizing that further pursuit was useless. In a few minutes the others came up, panting.
"Did he get away?" asked Joe.
Frank nodded. "He was too quick for us. When he knew we were after him he didn't lose any time."
"I wish we had been able to talk to the rascal," said Jack Dodd. "I would have had a few things to tell him."
"Probably we wouldn't have got much satisfaction out of him, anyway," Frank remarked. "Still, you could have asked him what he knew about that fishing rod."
"It's something to know that he's still hanging around this part of the country," pointed out Chet. "He has evidently been lying low since he left your farm."
"He's up to some mischief, I'm sure of that."
"Probably built himself a shack somewhere in the woods," suggested Joe.
"Well, we may run across him some other time. It's getting late and I think we'd better be starting home," said Frank.