the old
Peek place, he is missing. Now isn't it likely that the same man is
still sneaking around in that neighborhood?"

"Well, anyhow, we're getting off the main track again," Billy returned.
"We'd like to know where the Torpedo belongs, but it's a heap more
important that we keep on the trail of our own machine."

"Yes, that's so," Phil soberly assented. "It's certainly strange that
all my telephoning went for nothing. The police and all the big garages
from Albany to Buffalo, I should say, have a description of our car, and
yet not a sign of her has been discovered any place."

"There's a long distance telephone call for Mr. Way," announced the
voice of Mr. Wagg, the landlord.

CHAPTER II

THE SEARCH IS CONTINUED

It is much to be feared that three certain young gentlemen finished
their dinner with unbecoming haste in order to join more quickly the
fourth young gentleman summoned to the long distance telephone.

"Why, it was dad! Called up clear from Lannington!" announced Phil,
coming from the telephone booth, perspiring but pleased. "They all got
our letters, just a little while ago, and there must have been a general
powwow all about us and the car right away. They fixed it up that dad
should call us. And they're mighty interested. Think we haven't acted
fast enough, and all that. Want us to offer a reward--get busy--travel
around--not lose so much time just staying here. And if we can't get
some news by Wednesday, they'll either come on here or send a detective
from Chicago or somewhere."

"It'll cost a raft of money," murmured MacLester.

"But we've been too afraid of spending a little," Billy answered.

"Over four dollars' worth of telephoning in one morning!" ejaculated
Paul, forcibly. He did not like criticism.

"Just the same, it feels good to know there's somebody back of us. Of
course we knew there was, anyway, but to have them get together and then
telephone clear here--it's mighty encouraging," spoke Phil. "Now we
can't let them think we aren't capable of getting out of this pickle by
ourselves, and we don't want them to hold a convention here. The answer
is, get busy! So what are we going to do?"

"Well, what _are_ we going to do?" This from Paul, as if he would say
that everything possible to do had been done.

"Why, there's one thing that seemed like a good suggestion," said Phil,
"and that is that we look in other places--get on the train, get in
touch with the police and the