Twice Dave tried to back the car and then go ahead, but without avail. The machine settled down still farther in the mud of the road, and there it stuck.

“Now what are we going to do?” demanded the senator’s son, impatiently.

“I don’t know, Roger,” was the slow reply. “We’ve got to do something—we can’t stay in this mud-puddle all day.”

“It’s an outrage that they marked this road for a detour,” continued Roger. “Why, a team of horses would have all they could do to get through such a spot as this!”

“I guess I’ll have to get out for help,” said Dave. “Too bad! To think of getting stuck inside of three hours after leaving home!” and he made a grimace.

There was no help for it, and, reaching over into the tonneau of the car, Dave got out a pair of rubbers and put them on; and Roger did the same. Then both leaped out of the car and made their way to where the footing was fairly firm.

213“The road seems to be pretty good farther on,” announced our hero, after an examination. “But I’m afraid we’ll have to get somebody with a team of horses or oxen to pull us out of that hole. The car will never do it under its own power.”

They walked on, and presently came in sight of a farm nestling in a small valley beyond the hill. They walked up to this, and found a farmer in the barnyard, cleaning the mud from one of his horses.

“Well, gentlemen, what can I do for you?” hailed the man, as they walked up.

“I guess we got here just in time,” returned Dave. “There’s no use in finishing that cleaning until you’ve done a little job for us.”

“Eh? What’s that?” demanded the farmer curiously.

The chums explained the situation, and the farmer, whose name was Rawson, readily agreed to take two of his horses and the necessary tackle and assist them in getting the automobile out of the mud. In less than ten minutes the three were on their way to where the car was stalled. Mr. Rawson went to work quickly and with a precision that showed he knew exactly what he was doing.

“As soon as I give the word, you turn on your power and throw her into low gear,” he said. “I think we’ll have you out of this in a jiffy.”

And so it proved, the car coming up from the mud by the combined power of itself and the horses 214with hardly an effort. Then the team was unhooked, and Dave ran the car along the highway to where the farmer said farther traveling would be perfectly safe.

“By the way, we are on a rather peculiar errand around here,” said Dave, after he had settled for the farmer’s services. “May I ask if you have seen any gypsies in this vicinity during the last couple of weeks?”

“I don’t know about their being gypsies,” answered Mr. Rawson. “I had some trouble with a couple of tramps who robbed my chicken-coop about ten days or two weeks ago. I found they had been camping out in one of our sheds down in the woods. They wore bandana neckerchiefs and bright-colored vests.”

“That sounds as if they were gypsies! What became of them?”

“I can’t tell you about that. You see, one night we lost two of the chickens, and so I set a watch, and the next night I saw these two fellows sneaking up toward the house. I had my shotgun, and asked them what they wanted, and both of them dived out of sight behind some bushes and then ran for the woods. I followed them as far as the shed, and after that I lost track of them, and I’ve never seen them since. The next day I went down to the shed, thinking they might be hanging around 215somewhere, and there I saw they had been camping out in the shed, and saw where they had cooked the chickens and eaten them.”

“That sounds pretty interesting,” said Dave. “But I hardly think those fellows could have been the men we are looking for. The gypsies we are trying to spot must have had some money, and I don’t think they would camp out in that shed you mention. However, I’m going to remember it,” he added.

The chums questioned the farmer further, but got very little satisfaction. Then the journey in the automobile was resumed.

“What makes you think those fellows could not have been Bopeppo and Vazala?” questioned Roger, when they were once again speeding along the highway.

“I think this kidnapping was conducted in a much more high-toned fashion—if you can call it that, Roger. Those gypsies who used to camp on the outskirts of Crumville were far from poor. In fact, I have an idea that old Mother Domoza is really wealthy.”

“What! Wealthy, and live like that?”

“Exactly. I think she’s a first-class miser. A good many of the gypsies are—especially the older ones. They pretend to be very poor, but they own all sorts of jewelry, precious stones, and, 216very often, quantities of gold coin. They won’t trust the banks, but carry the stuff around their person, or else bury it somewhere.”

“But these fellows might have been frightened over something, and gone into hiding on that account,” suggested Roger.

“That may be—and I don’t intend to forget what Mr. Rawson said,” answered Dave. “It’s also possible that those two fellows may have been just hangers-on, who helped Bopeppo, Vazala and Mother Domoza, and maybe Nick Jasniff, to commit the crime.”

By noon the chums had stopped at one more way station, and also at one of the water tanks near where the hot box on the train had been discovered. They went up and interviewed the man in charge of the tank, but he co............