"You didn't go back and move that machine after we left it?" he asked.
"No," replied Mr. Oliver. "What made you think I did?"
Jake looked at his employer rather curiously. "Well," he said, "somebody must have moved it. The thing's gone."
Mr. Oliver broke into a run and the rest followed. When they reached the clump of trees they could discover no sign of the mower, except for the track of wheels among the withered needles and undergrowth. This led toward the ravine, at the bottom of which a little water flowed, and Frank saw Mr. Oliver's face harden as he followed this guide. A minute later they stood on the brink of the declivity and saw the mower lying upon its side among the stones thirty or forty feet below them. The slope was almost precipitous, but Mr. Oliver went down sliding amidst a rush of loosened soil, and Frank and Harry with some difficulty scrambled down after him. A glance was sufficient to show them that the implement was not likely to be of the least use to its owner. Mr. Oliver examined it quietly and then clambered back up the side of the ravine, after which he sat down and took out his pipe before he turned to Jake.
"Every bit of cast-iron in it is smashed," he said. "The pinion wheels are broken, and the other parts are bent. I'll have to order another one."
Jake made a gesture of sympathy.
"If I could get hold of the folks who did the thing it would be a consolation, but I haven't the least notion how to trail them."
"One man couldn't have moved it," said Mr. Oliver.
"There were three of them. The question is, what brought them here? I guess they didn't come just to smash the machine."
Mr. Oliver seemed lost a moment in contemplation.