d I'll tell you."

"These men are my friends, I tell you. Whatever you have to say to me
they can hear."

"They're not scouts," objected Glen.

"You're not much of a one," retorted Matt.

The words Glen had for Matt were not to be bawled into the ears of
strangers, so he left the foolish boy to follow his own tactics. It was
not too late for the swim and Glen was glad to have at least a few
minutes of his favorite sport.

He was dressing when some one tapped him on the shoulder and he looked
up into the comical face of Chick-chick.

"Hey, Brick. Found something, I have," he announced.

"What is it?" asked Glen.

"Hssh! Not so loud! Don't want whole camp to know. It's secret.
Footprints on sands of time."

"You're talking nonsense," said Glen.

"No nonsense about it. It's wheelprints 'stead o' footprints, that's
all. Come an' see. I was chasin' butterfly down near Vinegar Creek an' I
ran on it by accident, I did."

The two boys managed to slip away from the crowd and Chick-chick
mysteriously led the way down the road in the direction of the heavy
woods that marked the location of Vinegar Creek.

"While back I heard a car chuggin' along. Funny for car be down here,
don't ye know. Then there's somethin' 'bout an engine's voice--every
engine got voice of its own and you 'member it after you get 'quainted.
Seemed to me I knew that voice. Looked at car an' didn't look like
anything ever seen. Car all stripped off--nothing much left but chassis.
Then I came down to road an' looked at tracks. Wait bit. Soon be there,
we will."

He led on for another hundred yards until they reached a point where an
old woods trail struck out into the highway. Here Chick-chick paused.

"Look at this, Brick," he said. "Ever see tire-tracks look like that,
did you?"

Glen looked at the tracks. They were exactly like those he had smoothed
away when concealing the departure of the J. Jervice car at the ford.

"Verdict of Jury 'Guilty as charged'!" exclaimed Chick-chick, looking
into his eyes. "Come on, Brick, let's follow 'long this old cow-path
till we see our beloved car once more."

CHAPTER XVII

THE END OF THE JERVICE GANG

All that Glen could do was to follow where Chick-chick led and try to go
just as noiselessly, and to flit carefully from one screen of cover to
the next in just as unobtrusive a way. It was an old sport with
Chick-chick, but though Glen was an amateur at it he made a very good
performance.