It was yet an hour before supper time, and the irrepressible Bud and Josh set out at once to select a place for the next day’s flight.
“An’ don’t be late,” called out Mrs. Camp. “We got fried chicken, sweet potato pie and hickorynut cake.”
About the time the Camps, Bud, and the hired hands were attacking a big platter of fried chicken, Attorney Stockwell and Deputy Sheriff Pusey were making the best supper they could out of yellow cheese, dried beef and crackers in the Little Town general store. This accomplished, the lawyer, tracing in a general way on a county map the probable course of the lost aeroplane, called by telephone those farmers who, in his judgment, might have seen the airship.
Fortunately for Bud, the Camp’s Mill telephone was out of order. The operator in Scottsville could not tell what was the matter. She had no way of knowing that the wily mill owner had taken the instrument off the hook just after Josh announced the returning aeroplane was in sight. Josh’s report that there had been telephoning in Little Town the day before was tip enough to the unlearned but crafty farmer.
But, unfortunately for Bud, an incident occurred in the general store a little later that set the lawyer to thinking.
“Hey, Phil,” called out the proprietor, “I don’t see no charge o’ that five gallon o’ gasoline Josh Camp got this mornin’.”
Phil’s excuse was lost on Attorney Stockwell. He looked at Deputy Pusey significantly. The moment the officer’s horse had finished his oats, the two men were in the buggy hurrying toward Camp’s Mill, a locality as well known to both of them as to Bud. At seven o’clock, it was growing dusk. When the buggy turned from the road into the open space before the mill, Mr. Camp, Josh, and Bud were sitting on the porch, the former with his cob pipe. Mr. Camp nudged Bud, who rolled off the edge of the porch onto the grass and crawled around the house.
The greeting between the deputy and the mill owner was that of old friends, but Attorney Stockwell did not stop for civilities. He became officious at once.
“Say, Camp,” he exclaimed, “we have reason to believe you know something about some stolen property.”
Before he could say more, the deputy interrupted his companion to explain in detail what had happened. Then he added why they had come to the mill, telling of Josh’s gasoline purchase.