"He'll get a punch in the eye if he doesn't have a car for us," said Scoutmaster Ned.

"I wonder how he did."

"Town hall," said Scoutmaster Ned; "that kid thinks quick. If he'd only learn to tie a knot he'd be a scout. Vernon's a pretty good kid, though; he's better than Mount Vernon anyway. Pull on your left a little, Bill.

What's the matter; got the sleeping sickness? Pull straight for that light."

"If that wasn't a stunt, what is?" said Norris.

"You are," said Scoutmaster Ned. "We're not handing out silver cups to-night. Maybe I'll do a stunt to-night and win it."

"You?"

"Yes, me. Pull on your left some more. What do you think this is, Bill; a merry-go-round? Now go straight."

"Maybe Fido Norton found their prints," said Norris. "He's a bear at that."

"He's clumsier than a bear, like all Safety First's troop. How about that, Safety? Come on--_quick!_ Row!"

"Coming?" called a voice from the sh.o.r.e.

"That's what," answered Scoutmaster Ned.

"Your car's gone."

"So I read in the sky. Somebody break in?"

"The small door's locked, the big one was open but nothing broken."

"Get out!"

"Wait till you see. Who's there?"

"Safety First and Norris and me? You didn't think to get a car, did you?

Do you know which way they went?"

"Jim Burton is here with his Packard."

"h.e.l.lo, Jim."

"h.e.l.lo, Ned."

"They followed the main road past the east road. We tracked the tires past Oppie's mill. They're not likely to turn out anywhere else, till they get past Piper's anyway."

"You'll be a scout yet, Fido," called Scoutmaster Ned.

"What did they do, wake you up?" said Safety First as they pulled the boat up on sh.o.r.e.

"I should think they did," said Jim Burton; "they rang the bell a hundred times and went out into the garage and tooted the horn. Why don't you teach your scouts manners?"

"Can't be did, Jim. Let's take a pike at the place. h.e.l.lo Fido, that you? You sure about them going as far as the mill?"

"Yop."

"Yop, hey? Well, that's not so bad. You'll get a second helping of dessert some day. Come on, who's going? Pile in. Mighty good of you, Jim."

A brief moment's inspection of the shed and they were off. Jim Burton drove the car and by him sat Scoutmaster Ned. The others, Safety First, Nick Vernon, Fido Norton and Charlie Norris, sat in back.

"Too many?" asked Scoutmaster Ned.

"She rides better with a load," said Jim Burton.

"I don't suppose there's much chance," said Ned. "You notified the cops, didn't you, Nick? Good. The battery is low and there isn't any crank on my bus and my only hope is that she'll lay down on them. Soak it to her, Jim."

"Do you want to stop and look at the tire marks yourself?" asked Norton.

"It was that new Goodyear that I was tracking, the one that's all crisscross."

"You tracked it past the East road? So they didn't turn down there?

Sure?"

"Yop."

"That's enough. Let's see her step, Jim."

Jim "soaked it to her" and she stepped. Not a bit of fuss did she make over it. Just stepped. A silent, fleet step, like the step of a deer.

And the spectral trees on either side seemed to glide the other way, and east road seemed like a piece of string across their path, and Oppie's mill was but a transient speck and Valesboro was brushed aside like a particle of dust.

The car of a thousand delights could not do that....

CHAPTER XXIX

VOICES

Pee-wee, the irrepressible, was subdued at last. In gaping amazement he watched the Justice cross from the 'phone to the table, sit down, and begin to write. The demeanor of the Justice was anything but dramatic; he was calm, matter of fact, as if this were no more than he had expected.

"What do you mean, it's--in--his garage?" Pee-wee stammered. He was not at all defiant now. "Are you--were you talking--are you sure it was him?"

There was a note of sincerity, of honest surprise, in his voice which the Justice did not miss. And as for Peter Piper, his heart went out to this poor, shabby, little misguided fellow, whoever and whatever he was.

He was so much at a disadvantage now, that Peter felt sorry for him.

"Now, sonny," said Justice Fee, breaking the tense silence, "I'm going to hold you till we get to the bottom of this. Mr. Sanders, who's constable, is going to look after you (Pee-wee gulped and fingered his cap nervously) till we can overhaul that pal of yours. You're more to be pitied than blamed I reckon. There's altogether too much of this using small boys in criminal enterprises. I know," he added, holding up a warning finger, "he told you just what to say if you were caught, and you needn't say it, because, you see, I can't believe you."

Pee-wee was visibly sobbing now; he knew what "being taken care of"

meant. He was afraid, yes, and bewildered at being caught in this cruel web of circ.u.mstance. But most of all he was incensed and shamed by this indignity. He could not trust himself to speak, he would break down.

Something was wrong, _everything_ was wrong, fate was against him, he could not grapple with the situation. If he spoke, he would say too much and lose his temper in that solemn hall of justice. And what would happen to him then?