"Why? They're a dozen miles from here, by this time."
"We can't overtake them, of course, but we can discover which way they went."
It was an easy matter to trail the heavy machines up the ravine. About half a mile above the camp under the ledge, a wagon road crossed the ravine, and the wheels had turned into it. To the surprise of the boys, the wheels had turned in the direction of Catskill.
"It can't be those two tinhorns would have the nerve to go to the town," said McGlory.
"I don't think they would," agreed Matt, "but they have gone in that direction, at all events. It's up to us to walk back, so we may as well follow the road and the motorcycle trail."
"This is what I call tough luck," said the cowboy, when he and Matt were swinging along the road. "I didn't think there was any sense taking up with Bunce, in the first place. Nice way for that move to pan out! We go gunning for Grattan on a speeder, and then hoof it back—to face a charge of robbery preferred by the section men!"
"We'll settle that robbery charge quick enough," returned Matt.
"No doubt about that. I wouldn't feel so worked up over the thing if I could make any sort of guess as to what it was all about."
"Well," laughed Matt, repeating one of McGlory's favorite remarks, "we can't know so much all the time as we do just some part of the time, Joe."
"No more we can't, pard," said the cowboy.