"Hello! What's all the feverish bustle about? Good news, I hope!" This from Mr. Wagg as Billy and Paul, very warm and very red, hustled into that gentleman's hotel and suddenly stopped, as if they had at that moment forgotten what they came for. "No,--not exactly," said Billy. "Fact is, we have no news at all and it just makes us feel that we've got to get busy; and that's what we've been doing--hustling up here as hard as ever we could." "What for? What scent are you on now?" asked the landlord, peering over his glasses as he leaned upon the register counter. There was a trace of amusement in his voice. "That's just it," put in Paul. "We don't know just what scent we _are_ on but, by thunder! we've _got_ to get some news of that car!" "Well, I suppose that nothing succeeds like determination," observed Mr. Wagg kindly. "Still, there's a lot o' misdirected energy in the world." With a sigh he sat down and resumed the afternoon nap which the swift entrance of the boys had broken in upon. A large part of Griffin seemed to be occupied quite as was Landlord Wagg. How very quiet the little town was this tranquil June afternoon! "Ginger! I'd just like to take a nap myself; but we've got to keep busy," mused Billy. The two were seated in big armchairs of the hotel office. "Our basket, Willie Creek's lamp and that old raincoat are in our room. Mr. Hipp brought them and the porter carried them up. Told me so just after dinner," suggested Paul. "We might tote Willie's lamp over to the garage." Straightway up the stairs dashed the two boys. Yes, there at the foot of the bed the articles in question were deposited. Again the boys examined the lunch hamper inside and out. Again they searched pockets, lining, every shred of the muddy, dirty, wrinkled coat. How freshly the garment, splashed with the rain and the thick pools of the road, brought back to Billy's mind the dismal afternoon when first they ventured upon the lonely South Fork! Again, in mental vision, he saw the Torpedo come over the hill, saw the impossibility of passing the machine if it did not quickly turn out! Then he recalled--how vividly!--the dreadful scene, the Big Six ditched, the rain, the heavy, mist-laden air, the gloom, of approaching darkness. And in the same train of thought, as he went forward, he seemed to see the man Hipp and Earnest had told of seeing, marching stolidly along the wet road, carrying the basket stolen from the Six, wearing this very raincoat and on his head a low, soft cap, his top boots or leggins splashed with mud, the rain pelting him till he stumbled as he walked. How easily the lad's imagination drew for him the picture Alfred Earnest and his friend Hipp described! Then suddenly---- "For the love of cats, Paul Jones, I am one large punkin head! And so are _you!_ And so are _all_ of us!" Quite naturally young Mr. Jones looked up suddenly, startled not a little by the extraordinary accusation. "Wh----"