"Get a moving picture of him," urged Mr. Period. "I might be able to use that."
"I hardly think it would be worth while," decided Tom. "You see Andy hasn't done anything criminal, as far as we know. Of course I think he is capable of it, but that's a different thing. He may be out only on a pleasure jaunt, and he could stop us from showing the pictures, if we took them."
"That's so," agreed Mr. Period. "Don't run any risks of a lawsuit. It takes up too much of my time. Never mind the pictures."
"Just capture him, Tom, and see what he is doing," suggested Mr. Damon. "Bless my chewing gum! But he must be up to something."
"Well, he's aware of the fact that we're watching him, at all events!" exclaimed Mr. Whitford, for, at that moment, Andy, having seen the glare of the light, glanced up. They could see him looking at him, and, a second later, the Shopton bully steered his machine down a side road where the overhanging trees were so thick that he could not be made out, even by the powerful gleams of the great searchlight.
"He's gone!" gasped Ned.
"Afraid I guess," added Mr. Damon. "That shows he was up to something wrong. Well, what are we going to do?"
"Nothing, that I can see," spoke Mr. Whitford. "We can only go back to our camping place, and make another try. This Andy Foger may, or may not, be in with the smugglers. That's something we have yet to prove. However, we can't do anything now."
In vain did Ned try to get the bully within range of the light. They could hear the sounds of the motor cycle growing more and more faint, and then, as it was rapidly getting light, and as they did not want to be seen dropping into their camping place, they made all haste toward it, before dawn should break.
"Well, I can't spend any more time here," declared Mr. Period, when a hasty breakfast had been served.