"Huh?" queried Carl, his bewilderment growing.
Matt showed him how the broad mark in the dust had moved toward the roadside.
"And that bag, as you call it, Carl," continued Matt, "wasn't thrown out. If I'm figuring this thing right, it fell out."
"Hoop-a-la!" exulted Carl admiringly, "you vas some Sherlock Holmes, I bed you. How you make dot figuring, anyvay? I know as mooch as you, meppy, oof I could only t'ink oof it. You tell me somet'ing, und den I know."
Matt stepped toward the side of the road opposite from that where the broad, flat mark ran toward the edge.
"You see, Carl," he explained, "this road isn't quite so level here. There's a bit of a ridge, and when the car came into town, the wheels on the left side went over that ridge, tilting the machine to the right. What you call the bag dropped over the right side and into the road."
"Yah, so! Und ven it hit der road it moofed mit itseluf. Funny pitzness. Der furder vat ve go, der less vat ve know, hey? Vat next, Matt?"
"We'll follow the trail and see where it leads."
"Sure! Aber ve don'd vant to go too far avay from der car. Some goot-for-nodding fellers might come along und shnook it on us."
"I don't think we'll have to go very far, Carl."