"I've struck the trail!" she cried.
"Where?"
The word came in chorus.
"Here! Look; you know the Butterfly had peculiar kind of tires. See, it was wheeled up the street in that direction."
She pointed to where the village main thoroughfare ended in a country road.
"I'm not after takin' much stock in that," remarked the policeman.
"We won't bother you," rejoined Roy rather heatedly; "I guess we won't wait till your local Sherlock Holmes gets on the trail, we'll follow it ourselves."
"But who'll go?"
The question came from Jimsy.
"We can't all go, that's certain," exclaimed Bess.