Creative Books

He got here, had an accident--maybe some
friends he took for a ride were hurt and they called for help.
The chauffeur knew if there was any publicity he'd be blamed, and
so he got away as quickly as he could. Guess the accident--if
that's what it was--didn't amount to much, or they couldn't have
run the car off. We've had our trouble for our pains."
"Well, maybe you're right, Tom Swift, butt all the same, I'd
like to have a look among those trees," said Mr. Damon.
"Oh. we'll look, all right," assented Tom, "but I doubt if we
find anything."
And he was right. They walked in and about the little grove,
flashing the light at intervals, but beyond marks of auto wheels
in the dust of the road, which was near the clump of maples,
there was nothing to indicate what had happened.
"Though there was some sort of fracas," declared Tom. "Look
where the dust is trampled down. There were several men here,
perhaps skylarking, or perhaps it was a fight."
"Some one must have been hurt, or they wouldn't have cried for
help," said Mr. Damon.
"Well, that's so.


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