"I do," he answered. "There's a road from here, just the other side of those trees, to that hill. The auto must have gone that way. Well, there's no use in trying to follow it now. Whoever it was has gotten away."
"But they may have left some one behind, Tom. We'd better look in and around those trees."
"I suppose we had, but I don't believe we'll find anything. I can pretty nearly guess, now, what it was."
"What?" asked Mr. Damon.
"Well, some chauffeur was out for a ride in his employer's car without permission. He got here, had an accident—maybe some friends he took for a ride were hurt and they called for help. The chauffeur knew if there was any publicity he'd be blamed, and so he got away as quickly as he could. Guess the accident—if that's what it was—didn't amount to much, or they couldn't have run the car off. We've had our trouble for our pains."
"Well, maybe you're right, Tom Swift, but all the same, I'd like to have a look among those trees," said Mr. Damon.
"Oh. we'll look, all right," assented Tom, "but I doubt if we find anything."
And he was right. They walked in and about the little grove, flashing the light at intervals, but beyond marks of auto wheels in the dust of the road, which was near the clump of maples, there was nothing to indicate what had happened.
"Though there was some sort of fracas," declared Tom. "Look where the dust is trampled down. There were several men here, perhaps skylarking, or perhaps it was a fight."
"Some one must have been hurt, or they wouldn't have cried for help," said Mr. Damon.