still warm,' he said. 'The accident occurred a short while ago. Now
I'm sure this is the red-haired driver's car.'
'But what about him?' Joe asked. 'Is he alive? Did somebody rescue him,
or what happened?'
Frank shrugged. 'One thing I can tell you. Either he or somebody else
removed the license plates to avoid identification.'
The brothers were completely puzzled by the whole affair. Since their
assistance was not needed at the spot, they climbed out of the culvert and
back onto their motorcycles. Before long they were in sight of the Mortons'
home, a rambling farmhouse with an apple orchard at the rear. When they
drove up the lane they saw Chet at the barnyard gate.
'Hi, fella!' Joe called.
Chet hurried down the lane to meet them. He was a plump boy who loved to
eat and was rarely without an apple or a pocket of cookies. His round,
freckled face usually wore a smile. But today the Hardys sensed something
was wrong. As they brought their motorcycles to a stop, they noticed that
their chum's cheery expression was missing.
'What's the matter?' Frank asked.
'I'm in trouble,' Chet replied. 'You're just in time to help me. Did you meet
a fellow driving the Queen?'
Frank and Joe looked at each other blankly.
'Your car? No, we haven't seen it,' said Joe. 'What's happened?'
'It's been stolen!'
'Stolen!'
'Yes. I just came out to the garage to get the Queen and she was gone,'
Chet answered mournfully.
'Wasn't the car locked?'
'That's the strange part of it. She was locked, although the garage door was
open. I can't see how anyone got away with it.'
'A professional job,' Frank commented. 'Auto thieves always carry scores
of keys with them. Chet, have you any idea when this happened?'
'Not more than fifteen minutes ago, because that's when I came home with
the car.'
'We're wasting time!' Joe cried out. 'Let's chase that thief!'
'But I don't know which way he went,' Chet protested.
'We didn't meet him, so he must have gone in the other direction,' Frank
reasoned.
'Climb on behind me, Chet,' Joe urged. 'The Queen can't go as fast as our
motorcycles. We'll catch her in no time!'
'And there was only a little gas in my car, anyway,' Chet said excitedly as he
swung himself onto Joe's motorcycle. 'Maybe it has stalled by this time.'
In a few moments the boys were tearing down the road in pursuit of the
automobile thief.
CHAPTER II
The Holdup
CHET MORTON'S jalopy was such a brilliant yellow that the boys were
confident it would not be difficult to pick up the trail of the auto thief.
'The Queen's pretty well known around Bay-port,' Frank remarked. 'We
should meet someone who saw it.'
'Seems strange to me,' said Joe, 'that a thief would take a car like that.
Auto thieves usually take cars of a standard make and color. They're easier
to get rid of.'
'It's possible,' Frank suggested, 'that the thief didn't steal the car to sell it.
Maybe, for some reason, he was making a fast getaway and he'll abandon
it.'
'Look!' Chet exclaimed, pointing to a truck garden where several men were
hoeing cabbage plants. 'Maybe they saw the Queen.'
'I'll ask them,' Frank offered, and brought his motorcycle to a stop.
He scrambled over the fence and jumped across the rows of small plants until
he reached the first farm hand.
'Did you see a yellow jalopy go by here within the past hour?' Frank asked
him.
The lanky old farmer leaned on his hoe and put a hand to one ear. 'Eh?' he
shouted.
'Did you see a fellow pass along here in a bright yellow car?' Frank
repeated in a louder tone.
The farmer called to his companions. As they ambled over, the old man
removed a plug of tobacco from the pocket of his overalls and took a hearty
chew.
'Lad here wants to know if we saw a jalopy come by,' he said slowly.
The other three farm hands, all rather elderly men, did not answer at once.
Instead, they laid down their hoes and the plug of tobacco was duly passed
around the group.
Frank grit his teeth. 'Please hurry up and answer. The car was stolen. We're
trying to find the thief!'
'That so?' said one of the men. 'A hot rod, eh?'
'Yes. A bright yellow one,' Frank replied.
Another of the workers removed his hat and mopped his brow. 'Seems to
me,' he drawled, 'I did see a car come by here a while ago.'
'A yellow car?'
'No-'twarn't yeller, come to think of it. I guess, anyhow, it was a delivery
truck, if I remember rightly.'
Frank strove to conceal his impatience. 'Please, did any of you-?'
'Was it a brand-new car, real shiny?' asked the fourth member of the
group.
'No, it was an old car, but it was painted bright yellow,' Frank explained.
'My nephew had one of them things,' the farmer remarked. 'Never thought
they was safe, myself.'
'I don't agree with you,' still another man spoke up. 'All boys like cars and
you might as well let 'em have one they can work on themselves.'
'You're all wrong!' the deaf man interrupted. 'Let the boys work on the
farm truck. That way they won't get into mischief!' He gave a cackling sort
of laugh. 'Well, son, I guess we ain't been much help to you. Hope you find
the critter that stole your hot rod.'
'Thanks,' said Frank, and joined the other boys. 'No luck. Let's go!'
As they approached Bayport, the trio saw a girl walking along the road
ahead of them. When the cyclists drew nearer, Frank's face lighted up, for he
