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question him. He rubbed his chin dubiously while listening to their story.
    â€œQuite a few cars go past my place every night,” he said. “Now you come to mention it, there was an automobile come whizzin’ along and stopped here right after midnight. It woke me up, what with two men in it shoutin’ at each other.”
    â€œDid you see the car?” Frank asked.
    â€œNo. I didn’t get up. Course my home is right beside the road, and I couldn’t help but hear some o’ what the men were sayin‘. The car come along at a mighty lively clip, but when it got in front of the house, the driver slammed on the brakes and stopped.
    â€œThere was an argument. I heard him tellin’ somebody they must have gone past the crossroads in the dark. The other man started jawin’ at him and they had quite a row. Finally they turned the car around and went back.”
    â€œTo the crossroads?” said Chet.
    â€œYes. That’s about two miles back.”
    â€œI remember. One road goes to Gresham, the other heads up through the truck farms.”
    Frank and Chet returned to the crossroads. But which way should they go? Right to the farms, left to Gresham?
    â€œThe kidnappers might have hidden Joe on one of the truck farms,” Chet suggested.
    â€œYes, except that all those farms are close together and everybody knows everybody else’s business,” said Frank. “I’d rather tackle the road to Gresham. If we don’t find Joe, we can come back and try the other road.” He took the turn to the left.
    As they sped along, the boys spotted the wreckage of a black car in a roadside ditch. Afraid this was the kidnap car, Frank pulled up.
    â€œSome accident!” Chet observed.
    The license plates had already been removed from the badly smashed-up car.
    â€œIf anybody was hurt,” Frank said, “they’ll know it in Gresham. We’ll ask the police there.”
    Suddenly a black sedan swung out of a lane some distance ahead and roared off toward the town. Frank stared fixedly at the rear seat.
    â€œLook!” he exclaimed, gripping Chet’s arm. “Do you see what I see?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œA hand. Isn’t that someone signaling?”
    Chet gazed ahead and saw a hand wave frantically for a moment at the rear window, then suddenly withdraw.
    â€œYou’re right!” Chet snapped. “Joe!”
    Frank started the convertible and sped off in pursuit.
    The other car had a good lead and was increasing speed. It was almost obscured by a cloud of dust, but Frank memorized the out-of-state license number.
    â€œWe’re gaining on them!” Chet declared.
    Frank nodded. Inch by inch the intervening distance lessened. Trees, farms, and hedges flashed by. At times the boys could hardly see the sedan through the swirling clouds of dust.
    Suddenly the steady hum of the convertible’s engine changed its rhythm. The motor sputtered.
    Chet groaned. “Now what?” he muttered as the car slowed down.
    The boys’ hearts sank when the engine quit completely. They looked dismally at the other car as it disappeared around a distant bend in the road.

CHAPTER V
    The Hunt
    FRANTICALLY Frank flung open the hood and examined the engine. In a few minutes he discovered the trouble.
    â€œFuel pump,” he announced.
    â€œOh—oh!” Chet sighed. “And we’re miles from a service garage.”
    â€œWe’re not stranded,” Frank assured him. “I suspected the pump was going so I put a spare in the trunk. But it’s going to take fifteen or twenty minutes to change the pump, and—”
    â€œAnd by that time the kidnap car will be far away,” Chet finished.
    â€œI’d better notify Bayport Police Headquarters.” Frank turned on the car’s two-way radio to the proper frequency and gave the license number of the suspect’s car.
    â€œWe’ll get busy on it right