Presently they came to a crossroad, and here they had to stop to study a much-faded signboard, so as to decide which was the proper road to take.

Even then, as they continued their way, they were all a little doubtful.

"That signboard was so twisted it didn't point right down this road,"

was Sam's comment. "It would be just like some boys to twist it out of shape just for the fun of sending folks on the wrong road."

"Well, I played a joke like that myself, once," confessed Tom.

"Then if we are on the wrong road on account of some boys' tricks, Tom, you'll simply be getting paid back for what you did," returned his older brother.

Half a mile more was covered, and then the road grew rapidly worse. Tom had slowed down, and was just on the point of stopping when a low hissing sound reached the ears of all.

"Good-night!" was Tom's comment.

"What is it, Tom, a puncture?" queried Sam.

"Oh, no, it's only a gas well trying to find its way to the surface of the ground," was the dry comment. "Everybody out and to work!"

They leaped to the ground and soon saw that Sam's conjecture was correct. A sharp stone had cut into one of the front shoes, making a hole about as large in diameter as a slate pencil.

"Might know a thing like this would happen just when we were in a hurry," grumbled d.i.c.k.

"Never mind, now is our time to make a record," came cheerfully from Sam. He glanced at his watch. "Four minutes after two. Come on, let us see how quickly we can get that new tire on."

All threw off their coats and caps and set to work in the shade of some trees. While one jacked up the car, another worked to get off the damaged shoe and inner tube. In the meanwhile, the third got ready another shoe with an inner tube, and thus working hand in hand the three got the new tire in place and pumped up in less than ten minutes.

While d.i.c.k and Sam were putting away the tools, Tom walked a bit ahead on the road. He looked around a turn, and then came back much crestfallen.

"Well, I'm paid back for monkeying with those road-signs years ago," he announced. "The fellows who fixed that sign some distance behind us have got one on me. This is nothing but a woods road, and ends in the timber right around the bend."

"Which means that we have got to turn back and take the other road," put in Sam, quickly.

"That's it! Some fun turning around here," was d.i.c.k's comment. "It's about as narrow as it was on that road where they were doing the blasting."

"Oh, I guess I can make it," answered Tom; and then all got in the car once again.

By going ahead and backing half a dozen times, Tom at last managed to get the touring car headed the other way. Then he put on speed once more and they raced off to where they had made the false turn.

But all this had taken time and as a consequence, although they ran along the other highway at a speed of nearly forty miles an hour, they saw nothing of the auto-stage which had gone on ahead.

"I guess this is Stockbridge," was d.i.c.k's comment, a little later, as they came in sight of a straggling village. Several buggies and farm wagons were in sight and likewise a couple of cheap automobiles, but nothing that looked like a stage.

"Has the auto-stage from Fernwood got in yet?" questioned Sam of a storekeeper who sat in a tilted chair under the wooden awning of his establishment.

"Yes, it got in some time ago," was the drawled-out reply of the storekeeper.

"Then has it gone on to Riverview?" queried d.i.c.k.

"Reckon it has, stranger."

"Do you know if any pa.s.sengers got off here?" asked Tom.

"Old Mrs. Harrison got off."

"Anybody else?"

"I didn't see anybody else,--but then I wasn't watchin' very closely,"

explained the storekeeper.

The only other persons in sight besides the storekeeper were two children, too small to be questioned about the stage pa.s.sengers. The Rovers looked at each other questioningly.

"Might as well go right through and follow that stage," said d.i.c.k. "If he is on board, there is no use of letting him get away. If he isn't, we can come back here and look for him."

The others deemed this good advice, and in a moment more they left Stockbridge at a rate of speed which made the storekeeper leap up from his comfortable chair to gaze after them in amazement.

"Some of them speeders," he murmured to himself. "If they don't look out they'll be took in for breakin' the law."

For a mile or more the road outside of Stockbridge was fairly good.

Beyond, it grew poorer and poorer, and Tom had to reduce speed once more for fear of another puncture, or a blowout. As they sped along the highway all the youths kept a sharp lookout for Blackie Crowden, but no one came in sight who answered in the least to the description of that individual.

"I'm sure I'd know him if I saw him," said Sam, who had studied a copy of the man's photograph.

"So would I," answered Tom. "He's got a face that is somewhat unusual;"

and to this d.i.c.k agreed.

On and on they went, the road now being little more than a country lane.

Here the dust was about six inches deep, and a big cloud floated behind the machine.

"Almost looks as if we were on the wrong road again," observed d.i.c.k. But hardly had he spoken when they came out to another crossroad. Here a signboard pointed to the left, and the highway was as good as any they had yet traveled.

"Only one mile more!" cried Sam.

"It won't take long to cover that," answered Tom, and then turned on the power, and in less than two minutes more they were approaching the center of Riverview, a fair-sized town located on the stream which gave it its name.

"There is the auto-stage, drawn up in front of the hotel," announced Sam.

"Yes. And it's empty," answered d.i.c.k.

The driver of the auto-stage was at the town pump getting a drink of water. He looked at the three Rovers curiously as they confronted him.

"Did I have a pa.s.senger that stuttered?" he repeated in answer to their question. "I sure did have such a fellow. Why, he stuttered wo'se than any man I ever heard. And he whistled too. Awful funny. Why, I had all I could do to keep from laughin' in his face."

"We want to find that man very much and right away," announced d.i.c.k.

"Will you let us know where you let him off?"

"That's a funny thing, mister," announced the auto-stage driver. "You see, after we left Stockbridge I didn't have n.o.body in but that man. He paid me the fare to this place before I started. Then when we was about half-way here I looked around in the back of the stage and, by gum! he was gone."

"Gone!" came from the three Rovers.