“They’ve got that wire back!” he thought. “But they can’t go far on flat tires.” He yelled back at the rest to hurry, and at the sound of the yell, he heard the car start down the road. It was gone when the rest came into the open space! “We hacked the tires to ribbons,” Art panted. “They’re on bare rims.” “Go back to the house, Tom, quick,” said one of the watchmen. “Get the Flume House by ’phone, and have ’em put a guard across the road there, to stop every car and every person that comes down. We’ll get a car out, and follow ’em.” Everybody now ran up the road again, meeting more half-dressed men on the way. “Where on earth did you kids come from, anyway?” asked somebody for the first time. “We were camping down near the road by the Flume,” said Art, “and we heard ’em stop their car--woke us up----” “And I heard ’em planning this job,” said Peanut, while Art got his breath. “He crawled out and heard ’em,” Art went on, “and woke me, and we sneaked onto the trunk rack behind, and rode up here to give the alarm.” “Say, you’re some kids,” the watchman commented. “Cut their tires--that’s a good one! They were after the Goodwin wedding presents. Told Mr. Goodwin he ought to have a detective.” “Here he is now,” said somebody. Another man had appeared. “No, they didn’t have time to take a thing,” he was saying, “so far as we can see. Have you got ’em? Who was it warned us?” The boys were pointed out to him. “Thank you both,” he said. “I’ll thank you more in the morning. You want a motor to chase ’em in? Get mine out, quick!” Three minutes later, four motors were brought from the garages, and more than a dozen of the men who were gathered in the road piled into them. Peanut and Art rode in the first car, with two of the watchmen. Art had his hatchet in his hand, and the watchmen had their revolvers ready, too. They went down the road at high speed, the search-lights throwing the road and the bordering trees into brilliant white relief ahead, amid the surrounding gloom. The occupants of the car sat with their eyes glued on the end of the white shaft of light. “Some rims on that car!” said the driver. He slowed down. “See, there are the tracks. They must have been traveling, too. How many of ’em were there, did you say?” “Two,” said Art. “Light load. Maybe they got to the Flume House before a rim broke.” He put on speed again, and they flashed into a level stretch. Art and Peanut both exclaimed at once, “Look--there’s Rob!” Sure enough, standing beside the road, was Rob, plainly to be seen in the glare of the powerful search lamps. The driver put on brakes, and stopped. Rob jumped into the car. “A car just went by--two minutes ago--no, less--a minute. I couldn’t sleep again, worrying about you kids. It was those same men, Art. Heard ’em swear.”