"I wish we had been able to talk to the rascal," said Jack Dodd. "I would have had a few things to tell him."
"Probably we wouldn't have got much satisfaction out of him, anyway," Frank remarked. "Still, you could have asked him what he knew about that fishing rod."
"It's something to know that he's still hanging around this part of the country," pointed out Chet. "He has evidently been lying low since he left your farm."
"He's up to some mischief, I'm sure of that."
"Probably built himself a shack somewhere in the woods," suggested Joe.
"Well, we may run across him some other time. It's getting late and I think we'd better be starting home," said Frank.
Chet and Joe agreed that it was about time, and as there seemed little to be gained by continuing the search for Gus Montrose or for any evidence of the stolen cars, the boys retraced their steps back through the woods until they reached the Shore Road. Their motorcycles had been parked in the shelter of the trees.
"About time for my supper, too," said Jack Dodd. "If you're out this way again, look me up and we'll make another search through the woods."
His friends promised to do this and, bidding
