The boys found the town to be a picturesque one, well worth visiting, and there was a good restaurant in it. There they got a meal, sort of half-way between dinner and supper, and they arranged to come back later for something to eat before turning in on the bunks of the auto. "And there's a moving picture show in town," exclaimed Innis, as they were walking back to the garage. "I vote we take that in." "All right," assented Dick. "It will relieve the monotony if we have to lay over here two days." The owner of the garage readily gave the boys permission to occupy their car while it was in his establishment, and the lads made a change of clothes, for they were rather disheveled by the work of getting the auto out of the creek. Shortly before dusk they made their way to the village again, and after a good supper they headed for the moving picture theatre. In spite of the small size of the town, the exhibition was a good one. It was interspersed with vaudeville acts, and as this happened to be "amateur" night, it was quite late when our friends came out. "Well, it was pretty good; wasn't it?" remarked Dick, as he linked his arms in those of his chums. "Not half bad--for a change," assented Innis. "What's the game for to-morrow?" "Oh, we'll have to hang over here, I guess. But I understand there's a baseball game between two country nines and we can take that in. It will be sport." "That's the cheese!" exclaimed Paul. They were in the midst of the crowd that had thronged from the moving picture show. A number of pretty girls were bunched together, and from their midst came voices that could be heard to remark about the identity of our heroes, as the youths were spoken of as "the millionaire autoists." "We're getting a reputation already," whispered Innis. "That's Dick's fault," said Paul. "I haven't said a word," retorted that youth. "You fellows must have been talking." Gradually the crowd thinned out, and the three chums found themselves walking along a rather dark country road toward the garage where the _Last Word_ had been left. For a while they talked among themselves of the adventures of the day, and then a silence settled down. They were all tired and anxious to get to bed. "Is that some one ahead of us, or behind us?" suddenly asked Dick, coming to a halt. "I don't hear anything," said Innis. "Me either," added Paul. "Walk on a bit and then listen," suggested Dick. "There is some one sort of keeping time to our footsteps, fellows," spoke Paul a little later. "But are they ahead or behind us?" asked Dick. "I've been hearing it for some time." "Ahead of us," said Innis. "Behind," was Paul's opinion. The three came to a halt in the roadway and listened. This time, instead of the footsteps becoming silent, they were more plain. "They're coming," whispered Paul. A voice hailed them from the darkness. "Say, is this the road to Centreville?"