“Now I wonder how long we’ll have to wait before we get a train back,” remarked Frank.
His eye caught a bulletin board in front of the little station and he went over to it. At length he found what he sought, a late train bound for Chicago, and he almost groaned as he noted the time.
“There won’t be a train along for five hours,” he reported to Joe.
“Good night!”
“That means we’ve got to cool our heels around here until dark. Five solid hours.”
Dolefully, they confronted the bulletin board. A young man in a heavy ulster and tweed cap was also studying it. He glanced toward them.
“What’s the trouble?” he asked.
“Isn’t there any earlier train to Chicago than that?”
The young man shook his head.
“I’m afraid not,” he said. “I guess you’re out of luck. In a hurry to get there?”
Frank nodded.
“That’s too bad. But say—,” the young man reflected a moment. “If you motored over to Greendale you’d be able to catch an earlier train. There’s another railroad passes through there.”
“If we can catch an earlier train, that’s the train we want,” said Frank decidedly. “How far away is Greendale and how do we get there?”
“It’s about twenty miles across country. I’m motoring over there myself right now. You’re welcome to come along with me if you wish. I’m just waiting until the line is clear so I can put through a telephone call.”
“Do you think we can make the train at Greendale all right?”
“Oh, yes. I’m sure of it. There’s a train leaves for Chicago in about an hour and we’ll be there in plenty of time. There’s my car beside the platform. Put your grips in it and I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
The young man went into the waiting room and the Hardy boys saw him go into a telephone booth to put through his call. Frank and Joe, congratulating themselves on this lucky turn of events that had saved them from a dreary five-hour wait, went over to the touring car the young man had indicated and put their grips in the back seat. In about five minutes their newfound friend emerged from the waiting room.
“All set?” he asked. “I made inquiries about your train and you’ll be able to make it all right. Hop in.”
He insisted that they sit in the front seat with him, as there was plenty of room. “I like company when I’m driving,” he said cheerfully, and this removed the last vestige of reluctance in the Hardy boys’ minds, as they had been slightly afraid that they might be proving themselves bothersome to the stranger.
He was a skilful driver and the roads were good. The big touring car sped along the highway and they left the village behind, racing out into the open country. The young man at the wheel said little, beyond an occasional remark about the weather or the condition of the roads.
Not until they were at least ten miles from the town did the boys have a suspicion that anything might be wrong. That was when the young man turned the car suddenly off the main highway down a lonely road. The car lurched heavily to and fro in the deep ruts.
“I thought you said the other town was on the main highway,” said Frank.
“I know the way,” retorted the man at the wheel gruffly.
Something in his tone made the Hardy boys suspicious. Frank glanced at his brother and he could tell by his expression that Joe did not like the situation either.
Some distance ahead they saw an object parked directly across the road. It was an automobile, and it effectually blocked their passage.
“Somebody wrecked, I guess,” said their driver carelessly. He began to slow down. Frank, who was on the outside of the seat, groped under the flap in the door until his fingers encountered a heavy wrench. He was not going to be caught altogether unprepared.
The car came to a stop. From around the front of the other automobile came three unsavory individuals, unshaven, with peaked caps pulled low over their foreheads.
“Now,” said the young man beside them, suddenly whipping out a pistol, “you’ll just come along with us.”
He leveled the weapon directly at the Hardy boys.
IX
The Escape
Frank Hardy wasted not a second.
Before the man with the automatic pistol could realize what he was doing, he had flung up his hands sharply, at the same time releasing his grip on the wrench. It spun straight and true, knocking the automatic out of the fellow’s grasp and it clattered to the floor of the car.
When Joe saw that their antagonist was unarmed he rose halfway up in the seat and launched himself upon the driver. Frank, in the meantime, reached for the pistol. He was unable to find it, but his fingers closed over the wrench again.
There was a yell of surprise and rage from the three men in the road and they rushed toward the car. One of them came plunging along the side and attempted to grapple with Frank, but a sideways swing of the wrench caught him on the right of the head and he staggered back with a yelp of pain.
Joe was still struggling with the driver of the car. The latter was at a disadvantage in that he had been caught unawares. The loss of his automatic had flustered him and Joe’s sudden onslaught had taken him completely by surprise. Penned in by the wheel, he was unable to use his superior weight to advantage, and Joe seemed all over him, pounding him unmercifully.
One of the other toughs leaned over the side and seized Joe by the back of the coat. The man who had been hit with the wrench was dancing about in pain and keeping at a respectful distance. The other fellow was attempting to close in on Frank. He sprang forward, just dodged a sweeping blow of the wrench, and then wrestled with
