“Yes.”
“It didn’t seem so far away as this,” put in Sam. “Are you sure you are following the trail?”
“You can see for yourselves,” answered Dick, and held the lantern close to the ground.
“Footsteps, sure enough,” murmured Tom. Then of a sudden he bent closer. “But look!” he cried. “They are not ours!”
“What?” exclaimed his two brothers, in surprise.
“These footprints are not ours—they are altogether too big. We have picked up and are following the wrong trail!”
CHAPTER XXV
THE TRAIL OF THE TOURING CAR
All started in astonishment at the footprints before them. What Tom had said was true—the prints were altogether too large to have been made by their own feet in walking through the woods.
“How could I have made such a mistake!” murmured Dick.
“I wonder where you got mixed up?” said Sam. “I looked at the prints down by the swamp. They seemed to be O. K. there.”
“Then that is where I must have gotten mixed up—maybe after we pulled Tom from the mud.”
“We’ll have to go back,” came from Tom. “Too bad! But it can’t be helped. I don’t blame you, Dick,” he added, hastily.
“Neither do I,” put in Sam. “Anybody might make such a mistake, with nothing but that smoky lantern to guide him.”
They turned back, and after a while reached the edge of the swamp. Here, after a long search, they found their own footprints.
“Now we are all right!” cried Sam. “Come on!”
“Yes, and let us be careful that we don’t make another mistake,” added Tom.
“I don’t know about this,” said Dick, hesitatingly. “Somehow, it doesn’t look altogether right to me.”
“Why not?” queried his two brothers.
“It doesn’t seem to be the right direction. But they are our footprints, so we may as well follow them.”
They went on and proceeded for several hundred feet in silence. Then Tom uttered a cry of dismay.
“Well, this beats the Dutch!” he gasped.
“What’s wrong now?” asked Dick.
“Do you know what we are doing? We are heading for the road again, instead of for the place where we left the Dartaway!”
“Tom!” gasped Sam. “Are you sure?”
“I am. See that fallen tree? We are about half way between the road and the swamp.”
“Yes, I remember the tree, and you are right,” said Dick. “This is too bad! And when we are in such a hurry, too!” His voice had a note of despair in it.
“Well, keep to this trail now,” said Sam. “Don’t miss it,—only follow it backwards.”
Once more the three Rover boys turned, and now they scanned every foot of the trail with care. Again they passed the swamp and there discovered how they had made a false turn. Then they hurried forward, under the trees and through the bushes.
The darkness of night had closed in all around them, and the only light was that of the smoky lantern, and from the few stars that shone down through the tree tops. Everything was silent, excepting for the occasional note of a tree toad, or the “glunk” of a frog in the swamp.
“We ought to be there by now,” said Sam, a few minutes later.
“There she is!” cried Dick, swinging the lamp up over his head. And in the widening circle of light the three youths beheld the biplane, resting exactly as they had left the craft.
“Thank goodness!” cried Tom. “I was beginning to think we had made another mistake.”
They hung the lantern on a tree limb and then lit the lights attached to the biplane, for they had insisted that the Dartaway be supplied with these,—not for the purpose of flying at night, but so that the machine could be lit up in the dark if it rested in the road or in some other place where some person or vehicle might run into it.
It was an easy task to bring the biplane out into the opening in the woods, and this done the boys took a general view of the situation, so that they might get their bearings. Then all but one lantern were extinguished, and the engine was started up and they got aboard the craft, Dick taking the wheel.
“Now, Sam, it is up to you to give me the points of the compass,” said Dick. “And, Tom you keep your eyes open for the lights of Sherodburg and Fremville.”
Into the sky with its twinkling stars swept the Dartaway, and Sam gave the direction to be taken by consulting the tiny pocket compass he carried. Of course these directions were crude, but they were better than nothing, and soon Tom cried out that he could make out the lights of a settlement in the dim distance.
“That must be Sherodburg,” said Dick.
“Why stop there?” asked Tom. “I don’t think the touring car did. More than likely they streaked through for all they were worth. Why not go on straight to Fremville? That is a much larger town, and we’ll be sure to find a telephone there, or a telegraph office.”
“Just what I was thinking,” replied his big brother.
They swept over Sherodburg five minutes later, dipping down so low that they could see every house and every store. They looked along the main street for the touring car, but only carriages and farm wagons were in view.
“I wish we had a searchlight,” said Dick, with a sigh. “If we had one we could easily keep that highway in view all the way to Fremville.”
“Well, we haven’t one, so we’ll have to make out without it,” answered Tom. “Fly as low as you can and we’ll try to keep the highway in sight. Most of the farmhouses have lights in ’em, and that will help a little.”
Dick flew as low as seemed advisable, and by straining their eyes the boys managed to make out the winding road, lined on either side with farms and patches of woods. Occasionally they swept over small collections of houses,—hamlets located between the town they had left behind and the one they were approaching.
The breeze had died down utterly, so Dick had little trouble in manipulating the biplane. He sent the Dartaway onward at a good rate of speed, the engine making a noise like a battery of gatling guns. More than likely many a farmer and his family were astonished at the sounds and wondered what they meant. If any saw the biplane the Rovers did not know it.
“I guess we are coming up to Fremville now,” said Sam, when the distant lights of a town showed on the horizon. “We’ll have to look for some safe place to land, and that is not so easy in the darkness.”
Dick slowed down the motor as they drew closer to the town, which was composed of several streets of stores, half a dozen churches, some schools, and a hundred or more houses. He made a circle, and then, seeing a level field back of some of the houses, headed for it, and shut off the engine. They landed without anybody seeing them do it.
“Tom, I think you had better watch the machine, while Sam and I make some inquiries,” said Dick, as he alighted.
“Oh, don’t you think I had better go too?” asked Tom anxiously.
“We can’t leave the Dartaway alone.”
At that moment a man came out of the darkness, attracted by the voices. He was surprised to see the biplane. He told the lads that his house was close by and wanted to know what they were doing.
“We are on the trail of a big, enclosed touring car that came this way,” answered Dick. “Did you see anything of it?”
“Say, that must be the machine Jim Hickey told about!” cried the man. “Jim said it went tearin’ through like mad, about half an hour ago.”
“Which way was it headed?” asked Tom, eagerly.
“I don’t know—I didn’t ask. Jim could tell you.”
“Where is he?”
“Jim? Why he keeps the barber shop, down on the corner of Main Street and Lumber Alley.”
“Do you know if he is at his barber shop now?” asked Dick.
“He must be—he was
going there when he saw the auto.”
The boys waited no longer, but asking the man to look after the Dartaway during their absence, they hurried to the main street of the town and then to the barber shop in question. Jim Hickey was busy shaving a customer but he was willing to suspend operations long enough to answer the Rover boys.
“Did I see the car?” he cried. “If I hadn’t I’d be a dead man this minit!” he cried. “She was going some, she was!”
“Which way did the car go?” asked all the boys.
“Down Main Street to the bridge and then turned around the church corner.”
“Where does that road lead to?” asked Tom.
“Leads to Plankville and Bulltown.”
“Yes, but they can’t git through on that road,” put in the customer, wiping the lather from around his mouth so he could talk. “The bridge is shut off—they’re fixin’ it—went at the work this morning.”
“You are sure about that?” queried Dick, eagerly.
“Sure, I saw ’em takin’ up the plankin’ of the bridge. They will have to come back.”
“How far is that bridge from here?”
“About three miles.”
“Is there any other side road?” put in Sam.
“None that would be good enough for an auto. The north road is all sand an’ mud.”
“Come on!” cried Dick to his brothers. “I think we’ve cornered them! Come on!” And he rushed from the barber shop, and Sam and Tom followed, leaving the barber and his customer staring after them in astonishment.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE MOONLIT TRAIL
Once in the street the three Rover boys halted and looked at each other. The same thought was in the mind of each; should they follow the touring car on foot, or go back for the airship?
“We’ll get the Dartaway!” cried Dick. “We can follow them so much more quickly that way.”
At top speed they raced for the spot where they had left the biplane. They found the strange man on guard, smoking his pipe.
“We saw the barber,” said Dick, “and now we are going after that touring car and the fellows in it. Much obliged for looking after the biplane,” and he handed the man a silver half dollar.
“Thank you,” said the man. “Want to catch ’em, eh?”
“Yes, they are rascals who ought to be in jail,” answered Tom. And then, before the man could ask any more questions, the boys started up the engine and propellers and swept into the air once more.
The late moon had come up, and this light, added to that of the stars, made it possible for them to keep the road well in view. Over the town they swept and then over the church near the bridge. Then they commenced to follow the road leading to Plankville and Bulltown.
It must be confessed that all of the youths were deeply excited, and Tom and Sam looked to their pistols, to make certain that the weapons were ready for use. They felt that the rascals who had abducted Dora and Nellie in such a high-handed fashion would not give in without a struggle.
As they went on, Dick slowed down the engine, and ran closer and closer to the road.
“There is a sign and a big plank, closing the road!” cried Tom, presently. “And there is the bridge, just ahead.”
Scarcely had he spoken when Dick shut off the engine entirely and volplaned to the broad roadway and only a short distance from the bridge. All looked around eagerly. Not a sign of a touring car could be seen.
“Maybe they made a mistake—” commenced Sam, when Dick, who was examining the ground, uttered a cry.
“Here are the tracks of the rubber tires!” exclaimed the eldest Rover boy. “See, they pushed the plank aside and steered right for the bridge!”
“But did they get over?” asked his brothers.
“I suppose so. Wait, I’ll go over and see.”
Lantern in hand, Dick crossed on the beams of the wooden bridge. On the opposite side he saw the same tracks of the tires in the dust and dirt.
“Yes, they came over!” he shouted.
“But the planking—” came from Tom.
“They must have thrown it into place to cross and then taken it up again, so that they couldn’t be followed,—that is, in a carriage, or an auto, or on horseback.”
“Yes, but they can’t stop a biplane!” cried Sam, eagerly. “And this must have taken time to do! We must be close behind them!”
“Let’s get right after ’em!” put in Tom, and all three ran once more for the Dartaway, and soon the quick explosions of the motor sounded on the night air.
If the boys had been excited before, they were more so now, for they realized that the touring car at the best could be but a few miles away. Could they catch up to it before those running the machine had a chance to slip them in the darkness?
“They must have their lights lit,” said Dick. “They’d not dare run without them. Look and see if you can’t spot their headlights. Their taillight we smashed with a pistol shot.”
On and on swept the biplane. As the late moon came up higher, the way became brighter, until they could distinguish the road below quite plainly. But nothing like a touring car came into view.
“They must have had more time than we thought, or else they ran mighty fast,” remarked Dick, after several miles had been covered.
Presently they saw two bright lights coming towards them, down on the road. At once Dick shut off the power, and allowed the biplane to come down in the centre of the highway. Then Tom waved the lantern, and at the same time all three lads took hold of their pistols.
It was a runabout that was coming up, an old affair, carrying two men that looked like farmers.
“Hello, what’s this, a hold-up?” cried one of the men. “By gum! if it ain’t an airship!” he gasped, as his machine came to a standstill in front of the Dartaway.
“We’d like some information,” said Dick, stepping forward and holding up the lantern. “We are looking for a big enclosed touring car that came this way. Did you meet it on the road?”
“A tourin’ car? No, we didn’t meet any kind o’ an auto.”
“None at all?”
“Nary a one,” answered the second man.
“May I ask how far you’ve come?” went on Dick.
“We came from Plankville.”
“How far is that?”
“About six miles.”
“Are there any side roads between here and Plankville?”
“Plenty of ’em, but none good enough fer a car. Them that ain’t sand is mud, an’ deep mud, too. This is the only road in these parts fit for autoing.”
“You are sure that car didn’t go through Plankville? It was a big enclosed car, painted dark blue.”
“I was sittin’ on the hotel stoop fer an hour before we came along an’ there wasn’t nary a car went through.”
“Well, that car was on this road,” said Tom. “It must have gone somewhere.”
“I don’t see where it could go,” said the second man, and shook his head slowly. “All the side roads is terrible in these parts.”
“Well, we are much obliged for the information,” said Dick. “Wait, we’ll soon have our biplane out of the way.” And then he and his brothers wheeled it to one side, so the runabout could pass.
The men were curious to see the machine fly and remained while the boys started up the engine.
“What are you going to do next?” whispered Sam.
“We’ll take a look at the side roads,” replied Dick. “Maybe the touring car tried one of them and got stuck. I hope it did.”
With a rush and a roar, the Dartaway sped down the highway and then arose in the air, and as it did this the men in the runabout gave a cheer and clapped their hands. Then the Rover boys continued their hunt.
They kept close to the main road and did not fly any higher than w
as necessary. Whenever they reached a side road Dick would make a circle, coming back to the highway and going forward. Thus they kept on until they came in sight of Plankville.
“Hark!” cried Sam, as a distant bell tolled out. “Ten o’clock!”
“Only ten o’clock!” murmured Tom. “It seems like a week since we left Brill!”
“And we haven’t had supper yet,” went on the youngest Rover.
“Who wants any supper?” came from Dick. “I’m sure I don’t.”
“Not a mouthful, until we rescue Dora and Nellie,” answered Tom.
“I’d like a drink—I’m as dry as a herring,” said Sam.
“We’ll look for water when we go down again,” answered Dick.
Presently they descended once more, and, as a brook was handy, each drank his fill. Then Dick turned back in the direction from which they had come.
“Now what?” demanded Tom.
“I’m going to find out where they went, Tom. They didn’t come this far, I am sure of that.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t find their tracks in the road. The tracks of the runabout are there and that’s all. They didn’t come this far. They stopped or branched off somewhere between here and that bridge the road men are repairing.”
“Why can’t we search the road for tracks?” asked Sam.
“Just what I am going to do. We can go down every half mile or so and look the ground over.”
This was done three times, and twice they saw no tracks. Then they located them once more, about half way between the bridge and Plankville.
“Perhaps we had better follow them up on foot for awhile,” suggested Dick. “They aren’t in the roadway half a mile from here.”
“Well, there are no side roads nearby,” returned Tom. “And no houses or barns, either,” he added, searching the moonlit landscape.
Lantern in hand, Dick led the way, the others following. Thus several hundred feet were covered. Then all came to a halt and stared at each other. The tracks of the touring car led from the roadway directly into a big field, backed up by what looked to be a dense woods.
“We are getting closer!” cried Dick. “Now, to put the Dartaway in a safe place and then we’ll follow them on foot!”
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