There was in him the thrill of the discoverer of a new clue.
When the motor ceased to send its roar across the distance to him Curt laid Al’s bicycle, which he had ridden from the cornfield, beside the rutted country road and walked, screening himself carefully, to the bend.
“No truck should stop in this out-of-the-way place,” he decided. “I’d better be careful. They might have a guard set at the turn.”
There was no guard, however. Evidently the truck driver and his assistant had no suspicion that they were observed.
Openly the truck stood in the road, to one side. Curt, able to distinguish its bulk, was too far away to see through the darkness what was going on.
“Maybe a broken drive chain,” he thought. “Still, I’d better be certain.”
He made a slight detour through the pines along the byroad, being careful to make as little sound as possible, working around toward the position of the truck. Whatever sound he made was soon drowned by the roar of a motor.
“Just a repair,” he decided. “They’re going.”
Instead of getting further away the motor pulsation became louder.
“That’s another car coming,” Curt told himself, “and it’s a heavy duty motor, too.”