"They may have had something to do with the hold-up, although it's not very probable. They looked as if they'd been sitting around that fire for quite a while, and it was a good distance from the place where the truck was robbed. However, it won't hurt us to do a little sentry duty and keep an eye on the Shore Road. We may have our trouble for nothing, but you never know what will turn up."
The lads drove out the road to a point mid-way between the scene of the truck hold-up and the Dodd farm. It was growing dark by the time they drew their motorcycles beneath the shelter of some trees.
"We might as well wait right here," said Frank, making himself comfortable on the grass. "If we see anything suspicious we can follow it up."
In the heavy shade, the boys could not be seen from the road. They talked in whispers. They had no clear idea of what they expected to find, but they were convinced that the Shore Road hid the mystery of the stolen automobiles, and their experience in previous cases had taught them that patience was often rewarded.
A few cars passed by, some bound toward Bayport, others in the opposite direction, but they were obviously pleasure cars and there was nothing about them to arouse suspicion. Once in a while, through the trees on top of the bluff, the boys could see the twinkling lights of a boat out on Barmet Bay. In the summer night, the silence was only broken by the trilling of frogs in the ditches along the road.
Presently they heard voices.
There was no one approaching along the highway, but as the voices grew louder they appeared to come from a field beyond the fence. At that moment the moon appeared from behind a cloud, and in its ghostly light, the Hardy boys distinguished two figures moving toward them in the meadow.
Silently, the lads crouched in the shadow of the trees, watching.
"This is a good night for it," growled one of the men.
"It's a good night if we don't get caught."