"Say, that's a scheme! Wonder if there are any autos to let around here?"
"You'll find a garage two blocks up the street," said the barkeeper. "I think they have one or two they hire out by the hour."
"I want to get over to Hartford by to-night," said the man with the heavy valise. "I'll go and see what they've got."
He took up his bag, and left the hotel, walking slowly in the direction that had been pointed out. He had nearly reached the automobile establishment when he noticed that Dave was following him.
"Want to come along to Hartford?" he asked, but not in a pleasant tone.
"No, I thought I'd see if you managed to get an automobile. I'm going on to Oakdale Junction, as I told you before."
"Oh, yes, I remember. You said you were going to a boarding school at Oakdale. What's the name of the place?"
"Oak Hall."
"And what's your name?"
"Dave Porter. What's yours?"
"Mine? My name is——" the man seemed to hesitate, "Peter Snodgrass. I'm from Pittsburg."
"Peter Snodgrass," thought Dave. "That doesn't square with the initials, W. F. F., that are on that valise."
