“Follow them!” cried Tom. “We’ve got to get Ned back. Let’s have another look around.” They looked, but found little to aid them in their search. “They haven’t been gone long!” cried Tom, as they came out of the kitchen. “How do you know?” asked Mr. Damon. “The stove is still warm,” was the answer. “Come on! We’ve got to trail them and get Ned!” CHAPTER VII A WILD CHASE TOM SWIFT was the first of the four searchers to rush out of the old brick farmhouse, ready to take up the trail once more in the search. Mr. Damon followed, then came Bill Tagg, and lastly the big, lumbering Koku. “Me find nobody can smash,” the giant complained as he clenched his immense fists. “Master say maybe I fight. No fight?” and he looked at Tom questioningly. “There may be a fight yet, if we can catch them,” said the young inventor, pausing a moment in the front to look back at the house. “They’ve given us the slip. If it hadn’t been for the accident to my electric runabout we’d have been here sooner and we’d have caught them.” “Yes,” agreed Mr. Damon. “It looks, Tom, as if the somebody who tried to wreck your machine had an interest in preventing your getting here sooner. They, whoever it was, wanted to delay you so word could be sent here to get Ned out of the way.” “That’s very probable,” admitted the young inventor. Again he looked up at the window of what had been his chum’s prison room, and Tom tried to picture how Ned, in his desperation, had secretly constructed the kite of wrapping paper, whittled sticks and string. Then the young manager had waited until a stiff wind was blowing and had loosed the silent messenger into the air. The electric runabout was in the road a short distance away from the deserted farmhouse. Tom wished he had time to repair it so the machine would show some of the former speed, but this was out of the question. They would have to go along as best they could. The vicinity of the farmhouse was lonesome and no other building was in view save a tumbledown barn. Tom, therefore, and his companions were rather surprised when, on coming out of the yard, they saw a ragged boy in the road walking around the runabout and admiring it. “Hello!” called Tom genially. “Do you live near here?” “Just down the road a piece.” The boy dug his dirty, bare toes into the soft dust of the road. “Know anybody who lives in here?” went on the young inventor, seeing a possible chance to get some information. “Don’t nobody live here,” the boy replied. “But there’s been some men in here the last few days, only they’re gone now. They went away a little while ago in an auto, but it was bigger’n what yours is.” “Oh, so some men went away from here a little while ago in a big auto, did they?” asked Tom. “We’re on the track!” he whispered to Mr. Damon. Then to the boy again: “What kind of men were they and how many of them were there?”