"And now with the boys gone," added Amy, "I don't suppose we'll have a chance in the world of capturing him."
"Humph," groaned Grace disgustedly, the temporary glow of success fading before the torture of aching feet, "I don't see that they helped very much when they were here. We did the suggesting, and all they did was to laugh at our suggestions—"
"Well, there's no use in saying things about them now they're gone," said Amy, but Mollie caught her up indignantly.
"Goodness, Amy," she cried, "it may not be your fault that you have a gloomy disposition, but you don't need to sound exactly like a funeral!"
At this moment they were startled by the sound of a machine coming behind them at furious speed. Some chickens, crossing the road and pecking lazily as they went, scurried with alarmed squawking into the woods on either side.
The girls, turning, started, gasped, then stared at each other.
"The motorcyclist!" cried Mollie, as they turned and ran after the fast disappearing machine.