"Yes," said Andrew quietly; "I believe it's what he'd do."
"Well, there are two things to note. He could have gone straight from Dumfries by a good road on the other side of the mountain, but he preferred this way and a rough climb across. Then he started for Castle Douglas, when he might as well have told the garage people he was going to Dalbeattie. This implies that he'd a pretty good reason for covering his trail." Whitney paused and looked hard at Andrew. "Before we go any farther, you have to decide whether you really want to find out that reason. You can quit the business now, but you may not be able to do so afterward."
"I'd rather stop, but I must go on," said Andrew grimly.
"Very well; we'll try to follow him."
They drove back, passing the roadmender, who leaned upon his spade looking after them; and a little while later Whitney pulled up at a broken gate that hung open. A rough track, grown with grass, led away from it between loose stone walls.
"Not intended for automobiles!" Whitney remarked, as he cautiously steered between the ruts. "Williamson must have found it easier than we do."
Andrew nodded. His comrade's eyes were keen, for only a crushed tuft of grass here and there suggested the track of a bicycle tire. Farther along they stopped at a gate where the loaning forked. One branch ran on; the other turned off, and in the distance a lonely white house showed amidst a clump of bare, wind-bent trees.
"He would not have gone to the farm," said Whitney. "Jump down and open the gate."
They went on again carefully, but after a time the loaning got very rough and rushes grew across it where the ground was soft. After narrowly escaping an upset into the ditch on one side, Whitney stopped.
"I guess this is as far as she'll take us, and I see a peat-stack where we could leave her."