“It was real enough. We could see the marks in the embankment where they had been rolled down from the road,” put in Joe.
“I’m sorry they couldn’t give a better description of the holdup men. All they could say was that they were both of medium height and that they wore masks. It isn’t very much to go on. However, I may be able to get a line on the case when they try to get rid of the silk. The stuff is bound to turn up sooner or later and I may be able to trace it back to the thieves.”
However, although Fenton Hardy devoted the next two days to the case, he made little progress toward locating either the missing truck or its cargo. As in the case of the other stolen cars, the truck seemed to have vanished into thin air, and although its description was broadcast all through the state, and police officials and garage mechanics were asked to be on the lookout for it, the mystery remained unsolved.
One evening toward the latter part of the week, the Hardy boys mounted their motorcycles and rode down High Street in the direction of the Shore Road. This was in accordance with a plan made earlier in the day.
“It stands to reason that if any of the cars ever got out into the state, at least one or two of them would be found,” said Frank. “I have a mighty strong hunch that the whole mystery begins and ends right along that road.”
“Perhaps those tramps we saw in the woods might have something to do with it.”
“They may have had something to do with the holdup, although it’s not very probable. They looked as if they’d been sitting around that fire for quite a while, and it was a good distance from the place where the truck was robbed. However, it won’t hurt us to do a little sentry duty and keep an eye on the Shore Road. We may have our trouble for nothing, but you never know what will turn up.”
The lads drove out the road to a point midway between the scene of the truck holdup and the Dodd farm. It was growing dark by the time they drew their motorcycles beneath the shelter of some trees.
“We might as well wait right here,” said Frank, making himself comfortable on the grass. “If we see anything suspicious we can follow it up.”
In the heavy shade, the boys could not be seen from the road. They talked in whispers. They had no clear idea of what they expected to find, but they were convinced that the Shore Road hid the mystery of the stolen automobiles, and their experience in previous cases had taught them that patience was often rewarded.
A few cars passed by, some bound toward Bayport, others in the opposite direction, but they were obviously pleasure cars and there was nothing about them to arouse suspicion. Once in a while, through the trees on top of the bluff, the boys could see the twinkling lights of a boat out on Barmet Bay. In the summer night, the silence was only broken by the trilling of frogs in the ditches along the road.
Presently they heard voices.
There was no one approaching along the highway, but as the voices grew louder they appeared to come from a field beyond the fence. At that moment the moon appeared from behind a cloud, and in its ghostly light, the Hardy boys distinguished two figures moving toward them in the meadow.
Silently, the lads crouched in the shadow of the trees, watching.
“This is a good night for it,” growled one of the men.
“It’s a good night if we don’t get caught.”
Joe’s hand tightened about Frank’s arm.
“What are you worrying about? We won’t get caught. It isn’t the first time we’ve got away with it.”
“Yes, I know. But, somehow, I’m nervous tonight. I’m afraid we’ll land up in the police court some of these fine days.”
“If you’re scared, go on home. I’ll go on alone,” said the first man scornfully.
“I’m not scared! Who says I’m scared?”
“Well, if you’re not scared, shut up. I know we’re breakin’ the law, but we’ve never been caught yet.”
The men scrambled over the fence. The boys saw that the first fellow was carrying two long poles and that the other carried a bag over his shoulder.
“Have you got all the stuff?”
“Yes.”
“We’d better not walk along the road. Somebody’s liable to spot us. Keep to the shadow and then we’ll cut down into the woods.”
The men hastily crossed the road in the moonlight. They were only a few yards away from the boys but, fortunately, did not see them. In the dim light, the watchers could not distinguish the features of the pair.
“There’s a path here somewhere, isn’t there?” asked one.
“Don’t you remember it? If it hadn’t been for that path the other night we’d have been nabbed.”
“That’s right. You know this country pretty well.”
“I should. I’ve lived around here long enough.”
About fifty yards away, the men turned down toward the woods and vanished in the darkness of the trees. Their voices receded. Frank and Joe scrambled to their feet.
“Come on,” said Frank, in excitement. “We’ll follow them.”
“Do you think they’re the thieves?”
“I’m sure of it. They’re up to some kind of monkey-business, anyway. We’ll find out where they’re going.”
In the soft grass the boys made not a sound as they sped along in the shade of the trees toward the path the two men had taken. They found it without difficulty, a fairly well defined trail that was quite visible in the moonlight. The lads plunged into the depths of the woods and there the moonlight did not penetrate. They had to feel their way forward, moving slowly in order to keep their progress silent.
After a while they could hear the voices of the
