The patrolman subsided.
"Maybe we can find it yet," suggested Jess.
"I'd like to know how," put in Jimsy disgustedly.
"Perhaps we can trace it. It must have been wheeled away."
"Ginger! That's so," cried Roy, snapping his fingers; "it would leave an
odd track too, wouldn't it?"
"Well there's no harm in trying to trace it," admitted Jimsy, who
appeared rather skeptical.
"Come on, then; get busy," urged Roy eagerly.
The next instant there came a cry from Peggy.
"I've struck the trail!" she cried.
"Where?"
The word came in chorus.
"Here! Look; you know the _Butterfly_ had peculiar kind of tires. See,
it was wheeled up the street in that direction."
She pointed to where the village main thoroughfare ended in a country
road.
"I'm not after takin' much stock in that," remarked the policeman.
"We won't bother you," rejoined Roy rather heatedly; "I guess we won't
wait till your local Sherlock Holmes gets on the trail, we'll follow
it ourselves."
"But who'll go?"
The question came from Jimsy.
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