Then Merry reasoned that the fellow had purchased the wheel to aid him in escaping from the city. Merriwell, Diamond and several of the Belfast wheelmen set out by different streets in the attempt to get on the track of the fugitive. Frank had ridden north, toward City Point, making inquiries as he went. At last he received information that led him to believe he was on the right scent. Over the bridge and into the country beyond rode Frank. He found a man who had seen a bicyclist pass an hour before, and the description fitted Flynn. At first the road was furrowed by many teams that had gone into the city that morning, and it was useless to look for the track of a bicycle. This made it necessary for Frank to halt many times to make inquiries, and he knew the fugitive was gaining on him if he were pushing on steadily. “Never mind!” said Merry, with savage determination, “if I am on the right trail, I’ll never give up till I have run him down.” Once or twice he proceeded some distance on the wrong road, and was forced to turn back and take another course. These mistakes were exasperating. The sun rose higher and higher till it blazed down with crushing heat from almost directly overhead. “Never supposed it would be so hot up here in this country,” muttered the pursuer. But heat did not cause him to slacken his pace. He drove forward steadily, covered with dirt and perspiration. All the forenoon he tracked Flynn. He was miles from Belfast, having passed through Waldo, Brooks, Monroe and other places. At noon he was in a hilly country, where the roads were rough and dangerous. He found where the man he was after had stopped at a farmhouse and eaten dinner. Frank did not stop there. On the dusty road he could see the trail of the bicycle. It was plain enough now, and he did not need to ask questions. He knew he was riding in pursuit, for the track told him that, as the resistance of the air to the bicycle, and, in a lesser degree, the resistance of the roadway, caused furrows to appear on either side of the bicycle track, and those furrows formed an angle with the track of the bicycle in the direction in which it was going. Frank had discovered by observation that a bicycle could be tracked in the right direction on a dusty road with the aid of these telltale furrows, and now his knowledge stood him in good stead. The intense heat continued, but in the northwest black “thunder heads” were pushing upward against the sky. Pretty soon the thunder began to mutter and rumble. “A shower is coming,” thought Frank, “and it will blot out this trail. Can’t I overtake the fellow before the rain strikes?” Onward he flew. He drove his wheel up a hard hill that was thickly wooded. When he reached the top he saw that the rain would soon strike him. Jagged flashes of lightning shot athwart the black clouds, which had risen till they were almost over his head.