After supper, as it was still too early for bed, the three children entered into a boisterous game of hide-and-go-seek. Sammy, burrowing in the great heap of hay at the rear of the barn floor, suddenly lost his interest in the game. He dragged something out of the hay and brought it to Neale, who sat on the sill of the big door with pad and pencil, composing the telegram he intended to send to the automobile manufacturers from Hickton the next morning.
“What’s that you have, Sammy P.?” demanded Agnes, as the little fellow, too excited to speak, put the object in Neale’s hands.
“Great cracky!” ejaculated Neale O’Neil. “Where did you get it?”
“Under the hay. There’s something there. I broke the wire that held it—see?” said Sammy, excitedly.
“A license plate!” gasped Agnes.
“State license number! What do you know about that? Ask Mrs. Heard——”
Agnes was away like the wind. Mrs. Heard and Ruth were washing dishes at the horse trough. The girl brought the chaperone in a hurry.
“What was Mr. Collinger’s license number, do you know?” Neale asked her. “I mean his automobile license number.”
“The license number is twenty-four hundred and thirty-two. Goodness! I ought to remember it.”
Neale stood up with the license plate in his hand. “We’ve found the car, sure as you live!” he said, with conviction.