"Seems strange that a thief would take a car like that," remarked Frank. "Auto thieves usually take cars of a standard make and standard color. They're easier to get rid of. He would know that a car like yours could be easily traced." "I don't think he stole the car to sell it," Joe pointed out. "Take it from me, that chap was getting away from some place in a hurry and when his own car was smashed he just took the first one that came to hand. If we keep after him before he has a chance to get rid of it we'll run him to earth." A number of men in a hay-field near by attracted Frank's attention, and he brought his motorcycle to a stop. "I'm going to ask these chaps if they saw him pass." Frank scrambled over the fence and went over to talk to the farmhands, who watched his approach with curiosity. "Didn't see a yellow roadster pass here within the last hour, did you?" One of them, a lanky old farmer with a sun-burned nose, carefully laid down his scythe, put his hand to his ear and shouted: "Eh?" "Did you see a fellow pass along here in a roadster?" Frank repeated, in a louder tone. The farmer turned to his companions, removed a plug of tobacco from the pocket of his overalls and took a hearty chew. "Lad here want to know if we saw a roadster come by here!" he said slowly. There were three other farmhands and all gathered around. They put down their scythes very deliberately, and the plug of tobacco was duly passed around the group. Frank waited. "A roadster, eh?" asked one. "A yellow roadster," Frank told him. One of the men removed his hat and mopped his brow. "Seems to me," he observed, "I _did_ see a car come by here a while ago." "A yellow car?" "No--twan't a yeller car. It was a delivery truck, if I remember rightly." Frank strove to conceal his impatience. "It was a roadster I was asking about. A yellow roadster." "Not one of them there coops, hey?" asked the oldest man in the group doubtfully. "No, not a coupé. A roadster." "Roadster, eh?" remarked the old farmer. "That's one of them there autymobiles with just two seats and a little cupboard in the back, eh?" "My cousin has one," observed another member of the group. "He got it secondhand in Bayport. I never _could_ see why he bought the doggone thing, for you can't take the folks out for a ride in it without havin' 'em all crowded somethin' fearful. Give me the old tourin' car every time." "Cain't say as I agree with you," returned the old farmer. "What good's a tourin' car if you want to haul a load of grain into town. Once of them leetle trucks is the best, I've always thought. Then, if you want to go on a picnic or anythin' the family can all climb in the back. You get the _use_ out of a car like that." "Nope. Nothin' like a tourin' car." "Rank extravagance, buyin' tourin' cars," put in another. "Horse and wagon is good enough for me." "That's what I say," agreed the fourth. "What with taxes the way they are--"