"Wish I knew more about cars," Art said. "There must be some way to put the engine on the blink."
Peanut lifted the hood. "Hold a match—not too close!" he said. "Here—here's a wire. That'll disconnect the battery, or something."
He yanked the wire out of its connection.
"Good," Art exclaimed. "Now, up the road after 'em!"
The two boys stood directly under the Great Stone Face, one of the sights of the White Mountains which they had come three hundred miles to see—but they never knew it, nor thought about it. They began to run up the road, in the dark, as fast as they could go.
Before long, however, they pulled down to a walk.
"Those burglars will reconnoitre first, before they try to break in," Art whispered. "Go easy, now. They said it was almost the last house this way."
A moment later, the Scouts came out into an open space. At the farther end, they could see the night lamps in the windows of what looked like a hotel.
"Must be the Profile House," said Peanut.
To the left they could see other houses, a row of them, close together, and in the trees, directly at their left, they could distinguish the outline of what seemed to be the last house of all. They stole toward it, on tiptoe, along a path in front. It was quiet. There was not a sound in the world. The whole settlement seemed asleep. But Art suddenly put his hand
