“They couldn’t. There’s no road.”

“Well, there’s a sort of clearing over there,” said Joe, motioning in the direction from which he had just returned. “It looks as if it had been a road at one time.”

“That’s probably the old creek road. It hasn’t been used for years.”

“Well, it was used just this week. I saw the marks of an automobile tire over there not ten minutes ago. And it was a mighty peculiar tread, too. Like this⁠—,” and Joe commenced to draw a replica of the design in the sand, using a thin stick of wood as a pencil.

Chet Morton stared.

“Why,” he exclaimed, “there’s only one car in the city has tires like that!”

“Whose car?”