"Yes, sir, he was gone. I looked back and there he stood on the side of the road. As soon as he saw that I saw him, he waved his hand to me and disappeared."

CHAPTER XXIII

BACK AT ASHTON

The three Rovers listened in astonishment to what the auto-stage driver had to say concerning the sudden disappearance of Blackie Crowden.

"Then he must have jumped from the stage while you were running,"

remarked d.i.c.k.

"That's just what he did do, mister. And he took some chances, too, believe me, for I wasn't runnin' at less than twenty miles an hour."

"Did he have any baggage with him?" questioned Tom.

"He had a small handbag, that's all."

"Would you remember the place where he jumped off?" came from Sam, eagerly.

"Yes, it was on the road back of here--just before you turn into this highway."

"You mean the road that was so thick with dust?" remarked Tom.

"That's the place. He jumped off at a spot where the bushes are pretty thick, and there are three trees standin' close together just back of the bushes."

"I think I know that place," said d.i.c.k. "There is a small white cottage on the hillside just behind it."

"You've struck it," answered the stage driver. "I reckon as how he was goin' to call on somebody at the cottage. But why he didn't ask me to stop is a mystery. Why! he might have broken a leg gettin' off that way."

"That man is a criminal, and he did it to throw you off his track,"

announced Sam. "Do you know what I think?" he continued to his brothers.

"I think Blackie Crowden must have gotten on to the fact that we were at Fernwood, and made up his mind to clear out as soon as possible. Then he got afraid that we might question folks, including this stage driver, and so jumped from the auto-stage to throw us off his trail, provided we should follow the stage."

"I guess you have struck the nail on the head, Sam," answered his oldest brother. "But come on, let us see if we can find some trace of him." And in less than a minute more they had turned their machine around and were heading for the spot mentioned to them by the stage driver.

It was only a short run, and soon they halted beside the bushes hedging in three tall trees. Eagerly they looked around in all directions, but not a soul was in sight.

"I'm going up to the farmhouse," announced Sam.

"And I'll go with you," added d.i.c.k. "Tom, you stay down here and take a look around. If you see anything of him blow the auto horn three times."

At the farmhouse the two Rovers found themselves confronted by an elderly man and his wife, who looked at them rather curiously.

"No, there hasn't been anybody around here so far as I know," announced the farmer. "We haven't had a visitor for several days."

"I was out to the well about five minutes ago," put in his wife, "and if anybody had come up to the house or the barn I'd have seen him."

"The fellow we are after is a criminal," explained d.i.c.k, "so if you don't mind we'll take a look around for him."

"A criminal!" cried the farmer. "Say, that's bad! Certainly look around all you please, and I hope if he is anywhere near you'll catch him. I'd go around with you myself, only I can't very well on account of this rheumatism of mine."

The two Rovers walked around the cottage and the out-buildings but found not the least trace of Blackie Crowden. Then, rather crestfallen, they returned to the automobile.

"Perhaps there's some mistake and it wasn't Crowden at all," was Sam's comment.

"Well, it was a man who stuttered, anyway, and the general description fitted Crowden," answered his brother.

When they reached the automobile, they found Tom gazing curiously at a piece of newspaper which he had picked up from the ground. It was rather crumpled, as if it had been used for wrapping purposes.

"See anything of him, Tom?" asked d.i.c.k.

"No," was the answer. "But look here. Do either of you recognize this print?" He held out the paper, which was the lower half of a newspaper page. Part of this was devoted to reading matter and the rest to advertis.e.m.e.nts.

"Why, sure! I know that paper," cried d.i.c.k. "See that advertis.e.m.e.nt of The Russel Department Store and that advertis.e.m.e.nt of Betts' Shoe Store?

That's a part of the _Knoxbury Weekly Leader_."

"That's just what it is!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Sam. "Where did you get that paper, Tom?"

"Found it right here beside the bushes. It looks as if it had been used to wrap something in."

"Then that proves two things," announced d.i.c.k, flatly. "One is that the man who stutters was really Blackie Crowden, for who else could have been here with something wrapped in a Knoxbury newspaper? And the other thing is that he did as the stage driver said--left that stage somewhere near here."

"Right you are, d.i.c.k," returned his youngest brother, "but that doesn't answer the question--where is he now?"

"I think he got on to the fact that we were in Fernwood, and that it was his business to get out just as quickly as he could," said Tom. "And if that is true it is more than likely that he is a good distance away from here by now and keeping to side roads where he thinks he will not be followed."

"But what brought him to Fernwood in the first place?" questioned Sam.

"Give it up. Of course, he may have friends or relatives here. But I don't know how we are going to find out the truth about that, and what good will it do us if we do?"

A half hour was spent in that vicinity, the boys tramping up and down the road and through the fields and woods looking for some trace of the missing man. Then they returned to Fernwood.

"I'm going down to the post-office to post our letters," announced d.i.c.k. "I'll see if the postmaster knows anything about Crowden."

The postmaster of Fernwood was a young man and glad enough to give what information he could when he heard what d.i.c.k had to say.

"Yes, that man was here several times," he remarked. "He seemed very anxious to get some letters, and he posted several letters himself, although whom they were addressed to I don't know."

"You haven't any idea where he was stopping?"

"Not the slightest." And this was all the postmaster could tell them.

"No use of our staying here any longer," announced Tom, when the boys had rejoined the others at the hotel. "I guess Crowden just came to this out-of-the-way place to get and send mail."

"Don't you think he'll come back, thinking there'll be some letters for him?" questioned his wife.