“Well, anyhow, we’re getting off the main track again,” Billy returned. “We’d like to know where the Torpedo belongs, but it’s a heap more important that we keep on the trail of our own machine.”
“Yes, that’s so,” Phil soberly assented. “It’s certainly strange that all my telephoning went for nothing. The police and all the big garages from Albany to Buffalo, I should say, have a description of our car, and yet not a sign of her has been discovered any place.”
“There’s a long distance telephone call for Mr. Way,” announced the voice of Mr. Wagg, the landlord.
CHAPTER II
THE SEARCH IS CONTINUED
It is much to be feared that three certain young gentlemen finished their dinner with unbecoming haste in order to join more quickly the fourth young gentleman summoned to the long distance telephone.
“Why, it was dad! Called up clear from Lannington!” announced Phil, coming from the telephone booth, perspiring but pleased. “They all got our letters, just a little while ago, and there must have been a general powwow all about us and the car right away. They fixed it up that dad should call us. And they’re mighty interested. Think we haven’t acted fast enough, and all that. Want us to offer a reward—get busy—travel around—not lose so much time just staying here. And if we can’t get some news by Wednesday, they’ll either come on here or send a detective from Chicago or somewhere.”
“It’ll cost a raft of money,” murmured MacLester.
“But we’ve been too afraid of spending a little,” Billy answered.