Yet both lads were so tremendously interested that they pushed on, heedless of the flight of time.
They had gone a mile or more up the track, "inching" it along, when they came upon an unmistakable print of Mr.Dodge's oddly pointed boot and narrow, high heel.

They found, too, the print of a brogan within six feet of the same point.
"This is the way Dodge and his queer companions came," exulted Dave.
"But I don't believe they followed the track much further," argued Prescott, pointing ahead at the signal lights of a small crossing station.

"If Mr.Dodge were trying to get away from public gaze he wouldn't go by a station where usually half a dozen loungers are smoking and talking with the station agent." "We're lucky to have the trail this far," observed Dave Darrin.
"But we can't follow it accurately at night.

Say---gracious! Do you know what time it is?
Half-past one in the morning!" "Wow ?" ejaculated Prescott, halting and looking dismayed.

"It'll take us a good many minutes to get back to where we left the horse.
It'll be after two o'clock when we hit 'The Blade' office.