“It seems almost impossible that a man with such a red head could so completely drop out of sight,” sighed Tavia

the next day.

The boys had just combed Dalton “with a fine-toothed comb” for the elusive Tom Moran, and had bagged nothing. He

had gone—vamoosed—disappeared—winked out; all these synonyms were Tavia’s. The girls had discussed the

disappearance until there seemed nothing more to be said.

“We don’t really know that he was Celia’s big brother,” said Dorothy, reflectively. “But it seems very

probable. Even your father knew that he was a bridge builder.”

“But we didn’t,” snapped Tavia. “Who expected to find a structural ironworker driving a yoke of steers?”

“And such steers,” sighed Dorothy, for she had scarcely gotten over the scare of that perilous ride.

Everybody about town knew by this time that186 the red-haired young man who had worked in Simpson’s gang was wanted

by Dorothy Dale. Dorothy had more friends in Dalton than anywhere else. Indeed, she could well claim every

respectable member of the community, save the nursing babies, as her own particular friend.

With so many people on the lookout for a trace of Tom Moran, therefore, it was no wonder that Dorothy and her

friends were running down possible clues all day long.

The second morning news came from a farmer out on the Fountainville Road. Ned and Nat had come down to Dalton in

their Firebird, and they got the motorcar out of the garage at once and brought it around to give the girls a ride

to Farmer Prater’s house.

“He’s been losing chickens,” said Ned, as they all scrambled in. “And he telephoned in something about a red-

headed man he had hired, named Moran, having a fight in the night with a band of chicken thieves in an automobile.

What do you know about that?”

“Sounds crazy enough,” said Tavia, tartly.

“All right. Your father’s sent a constable out to see about it, just the same. And there aren’t two red-headed

men named Moran wandering about the county, I am sure.”

“But I don’t believe Celia’s brother would rob a henroost,” said Dorothy.

187 “Oh, fudge!” exclaimed Nat. “Listen to the girl? Who said he did?”

“Well! wasn’t there something about chicken stealing in what Ned said? Oh! I almost lost my hat that time. What a

jolty road.”

“Look out or you’ll lose your name and number both on this stretch of highway. Can’t the old Firebird spin some?

”

“Such flowers of rhetoric,” sighed Tavia. “‘Spin some’ is beautiful.”

“Lots you know about flowers of any kind, Miss Travers,” teased Nat.

“I know all about flowers—especially of speech,” returned Tavia, tossing her head. “I can even tell you the

favorite flowers of the various States and countries——”

“England?” shouted Nat.

“Primroses,” returned Tavia, promptly, unwilling to be caught.

“France?” questioned Bob.

“Lilies.”

“Scotland?” asked Dorothy, laughing.

“Ought to be a beard of oats, but it’s the thistle,” said Tavia, promptly.

“Ireland?” demanded Ned, without turning from his steering wheel.

“Shamrock, of course.”

“Got you!” ejaculated Nat. “What’s Spain’s favorite?”

188 “Oh-oh-oh—— Bulrushes, I s’pect,” said Tavia, having the words jolted out of her. “Bull-fights, anyway.

Dear, dear me! we might as well travel over plowed ground.”

They struck a better automobile road on the Fountainville turnpike, and before long they came in sight of Farmer

Prater’s house. Oddly enough there was a gray and yellow automobile under one of the farmer’s sheds.

The farmer was in high fettle, it proved, and willing enough to talk about the raid the night before on his pens of

Rhode Island reds.

“Jefers pelters!” he chortled. “I got me pullets back and the ortermerbile ter boot. D’ye see it? That’s what

the raskils come in.”

“Not the red-headed man?” demanded Tavia.

“Who said anything about a red headed—— Oh! you mean Tom Moran?” asked Mr. Prater. “Why, he warn’t with ’em.

If it hadn’t been for him them raskils would ha’ got erway with my pullets—ya-as, sir-ree-sir!”

“Where is Tom?” demanded Dorothy.

But Mr. Prater had to tell the story in his own way. And it was an exciting one—to him! He had been awakened in the

early hours of the morning and had seen an automobile standing in the road. Then he heard a squawking in the chicken

pens. He had valuab............