An early supper was served the boys, and then they hurried off to the Grand Central Depot.
It was nearly noon on Friday when the lads arrived at Kingman. They found a large crowd assembled to meet them, among whom were Jack Mowry and the station agent.
They went at once to the latter’s house, and after briefly telling their own story, they were amazed to learn that absolutely no clew of any sort had been discovered.
“Most of the party that was scourin’ the woods hev come back,” said Mowry. “They was in an’ out through every part of the woods, but all ter no purpus. It’s mighty queer what them rascals hes done with the lads.”
“And how about Raikes and Mr. Glendale?” asked Jerry.
“Not a trace of them has been seen,” replied the agent, “though we have kept a careful watch on the trains and made inquiries in various directions. If they left New York at the time your telegram stated, they must have reached this part of the country a good two days ago—even before we were on the watch for them.”
“Perhaps they got off at some other station than Kingman,” suggested Tom.
“Quite likely,” asserted the agent. “In that case, we have missed them. It looks very much as though the rascals were going to collar all that money and get scot-free.”
His opinion was reluctantly shared by the others. It was a doleful crowd that sat around the hot stove, vainly pondering what could be done.
But at three o’clock the situation took an unexpected and pleasing turn. A tall, bearded man, clad in a hunter’s garb, rushed noisily into the house with two companions.