friends were keeping tab on the going and coming of the Thirty, by which name, it will be remembered, the car the four chums jointly owned was known.

With a tarpaulin tied over the rack behind, as if it covered a quantity of baggage, divers boxes—mostly empty—in the tonneau, two extra tires in their racks and the whole outfit presenting the appearance of being ready for extended touring, the Auto Boys headed their car into the street the following morning.

Amid frantic waving of their hands, and by Jones a most ridiculous pretense of wiping away tears of parting—fairly giggling in his handkerchief as he did it—the machine was turned directly toward the Star Lake road. At good speed, yet not too fast—it wouldn't do to eliminate the certainty of being seen—the Thirty rolled into the country just as the great clock in the Court House tower rang nine.

Going with what carelessness he could assume, yet stealthily, too, through the alley at the rear of the Way and other residences on the south side of Grace Avenue, young Mr. Pickton looked in at the window of the green and yellow garage as he had done many times before within the past week. Not at all surprised was he to see the shed empty, but he was astonished and not a little chagrined to notice that the extra tires were no longer in the corner reserved for them, and various other articles of touring paraphernalia customarily stored in plain view—ropes, lantern, shovel, a large tarpaulin, and so on—were missing.

"Ginger! They're gone already!" exclaimed the dumbfounded Mr. Pickton, and took to his heels.

From a corner drug store in an adjacent street he telephoned the news to Soapy Gaines. The latter, no less surprised than Pickton, vented his disgust and displeasure by applying to the Auto Boys a comprehensive variety of names. One would have supposed they had done him some personal injury; at least that they had been bound by every sort of moral obligation to have notified Mr. Gaines and his friends of their intended departure.

Within a half hour Pickton and Freddy Perth were frantically working over Gaines' Roadster while that young gentleman rushed rather foolishly and very excitedly about the carriage house in which the machine was kept. (Mr. Gaines, Sr., had not yet relinquished horses.) Soapy's principal purpose, indeed, seemed to be that of getting himself in the way. In any event, he succeeded so well that young Mr. Perth, hastening to the tank with a heavy can of gasoline, collided with him violently and both rolled upon the concrete floor, the gasoline gurgling over them as if it laughed a deep, deep, solemn laugh.

Unlike most young fellows whose privilege it is to use and care for an automobile, Soapy Gaines little relished the work. Instead of being constantly afraid his chums would have too much to do with the oiling, the lights, the fuel supply and the general keeping of the machine in good trim, as many another young fellow would have been, Gaines was the opposite—afraid only that they wouldn't.

Not to any motive of generosity was this attitude of his to be credited. Soapy just didn't like to work and, moreover, had never learned how to perform even the simplest tasks, whether in connection with the automobile or otherwise. It was a misfortune real and serious. To a great extent, however, since such learning had never been required of him, was he to be pitied rather than blamed.

Notwithstanding their various vexations, for the spilling of the gasoline was but one of several annoying experiences, the Chosen Trio were presently spinning down the street at a rate of speed inviting unpleasant notice should a bluecoat be encountered. They were by no means equipped for an extended journey. All they hoped to do was ascertain the road the Auto Boys had taken. With this information in hand, they would return home and make ready for a long tour. It would be easy to trace the well-laden touring car once its general route beyond the city was known.

Perhaps the Auto Boys made a mistake by not slipping away quietly, this very morning, well ahead of their expected schedule. They could probably have eluded successful pursuit more easily at this time than later. And yet it must be remembered, and their own opinion in the matter was that only by a decoy movement could they assure themselves with regard to the Trio's real intentions. So all in all Phil and his friends thought they planned extremely well.

Alighting from the Thirty in the city's outskirts, Billy Worth had quietly returned by street car to the business district. In the seclusion of the private office of Knight & Wilder's garage he awaited developments. Nothing happening at once, he bethought himself of the telephone, and obtaining ready permission to use it, he called up Ben Ryder.

Reflecting with no small interest that, as the Ryder home was but across the street from the Gaines mansion, and Ben being a pretty wide-awake fellow and likely to be observing, also a good friend, even if he was going to college next fall, Billy was mightily pleased with himself for having thought of him. He rejoiced the more, too, when Ben—Mr. Benjamin Harrison Ryder, left tackle, if you please, sir!—but just good, honest Ben, for short, answered his summons.

"Yes, the three of them went bowling down the street in Gaines' young battleship twenty minutes ago," was the answer to Worth's question. "Don't mention your having inquired? Why, not if you want it that way, certainly. Might not promise so readily if I saw the thing from the same angle that makes it look so important to you. Hope you won't take offense if I say I really don't, though, Billy!"

As this laughing answer terminated the conversation, Worth scoured his brain for other sources of information. The Park Garage, and the Automobile Club were called in turn. From the first nothing was learned, but from the club came the news that Gaines and Pickton had been in the rooms to look at some road maps, leaving later to overtake Phil Way's crowd. The latter had driven out on the Star Lake road some time before. Dr. Malcom told Gaines and Pickton of having met them as he returned from a country call.

John Lawdon, the snappy young secretary of the club, always eager to be accommodating, told Billy all this without so much as asking to whom he was speaking. He had helped Pick and Soapy look over the maps, he said. Yes, Fred Perth was with them. He had seen all three drive away.

So delighted to have obtained a positive key to the Trio's movements that he could hardly say "Thank you," without betraying excitement in his voice, Billy hung up the receiver. Then he waited, but not long was he kept in suspense.

The telephone rang. Mr. Wilder's stenographer responded. "It is for you, Mr. Worth,"—with a peculiar little accent on the Mr.

It was Phil Way, calling in from Star Lake as had been agreed he should do. Promptly and with many a laugh over the success of their ruse, Billy reported all he had learned.

"Good enough!" exclaimed Phil. "We will run over a lot of cross roads and finally back to town before noon, giving them a route to trace that will keep 'em out all day."

"Hurry along! They'll be there soon!" Worth replied, eagerly. "Get a good start ahead and we'll watch for them as they come back! Let them see just a smile in the corner of an eye, you know! Better than to give 'em the laugh right out."

Almost to the letter was the plan of the Auto Boys consummated. The hitch in their program followed the early discovery by Gaines and his company that they themselves had made a serious mistake or else had been made the victims of a trick. That one or the other proposition was true dawned slowly upon them as they painfully traced the car they sought by the tracks of its wheels, or, where these were lost in the dust, by many inquiries at farmhouses and of fellow travelers upon the road.

"If it was just a low-down scheme to send us wild-goose chasing, they'll be hanging around somewhere to gloat, you bet!" Fred Perth suggested,