"Vich vay now?" queried Carl.
"It's all guesswork," answered Matt, "but it's always a pretty good plan to keep to the right," and, with that, he drove the car along the right-hand branch.
After five minutes of fast running, they had not overtaken the rig and it was still not to be seen anywhere ahead. The boys knew they had been traveling three or four times as fast as the two men were going, and that, if they were on the right track, the men should have been overtaken long before.
Disappointedly, Matt halted the car and turned it in the other direction.
"No use, Carl," said he. "Those men must have taken the left-hand fork instead of the right. They're too far away, now, for us to think of finding them. We'll hike for South Chicago."
"Dot's der pest t'ing dot ve can do," returned Carl. "Ve'll find der owner oof der Hawk und gif him der trag-rope und der bapers."
"We won't find him. He must have been one of those two men in the buggy. Probably we can find where he lives, though, and turn the rope and the papers over to some one who will give them to him."
"Meppy ve pedder take der shtuff to der bolice, hey? Oof der fellers vas t'ieves, dot enfellup mighdt gif der bolice a line on dem."
"There's something in that, too," muttered Matt. "We'll try to find the owner of the Hawk, though, before we call on the police."
An hour later, the boys came into South Chicago along a turnpike that passed the rolling mills. A man on a motor-cycle was just coming out of a fenced enclosure near one of the mills, and Matt halted him for the purpose of making a few inquiries. From his looks, the man was of some consequence in the steel rail plant, and probably was well-informed as to affairs in South Chicago.