“He didn’t take a train tonight,” returned Prescott, shaking his head.  “If he wanted to disappear that would be the wrong way to go about it.  He’d be recognized from the descriptions that will go about broadcast.  No, sir!  Mr. Dodge must be hiding in some of the big stretches of woods over yonder.  A regiment could hide and be lost in the great woods.”

“It’s a trail I hate to leave,” muttered Dave Darrin.

“But we’ve got to wait until daylight.  We can’t do much in the dark, anyway.  I’ve got to get back to ‘The Blade’ office.  Get your bearings here, Dave.  To make doubly sure I’ll cut a slice out of this tie to mark the place where we found this print, for it may be indistinct by daylight.”

Marking the location Dick Prescott wheeled and began to hurry back, followed by Darrin.  In due time they reached the buggy, took the light blanket from the horse, unhitched and jumped in.  Fast driving took them to “The Blade” office.

“You didn’t learn anything, did you?” questioned Bradley.

“Yes; we did,” Dick informed him.  “The police, with their launch didn’t get any trace of Mr. Dodge, did they?”

“No,” admitted the news editor.  “I’ve talked with Hemingway within the last hour.  The police will begin dragging the river by daylight.”

“They won’t find the banker that way,” chuckled Dick.  “He’s alive.”

“Have you seen him?” demanded the news editor.

“No; and I’m not going to say too much now, either,” returned Dick, with unusual stubbornness.  “But ‘The Blade’ wants to take the keynote that Theodore Dodge is alive, and will turn up.  I believe Dave and I are going to make him turn up during the next spell of daylight.”

“We surely are!” laughed Darrin.

Mr. Bradley pressed them close with questions, but neither boy was inclined to reveal the secret of the trail along the railway roadbed.

“We’re going to keep it all as our own scoop,” Dick insisted.  “And please, Mr. Bradley, don’t post the police about our idea.  If you do, the police will get the credit.  If we keep quiet, ‘The Blade’ will get all the credit that is coming.”

The news editor laid before Dick all the proofs and copy that had been prepared so far on the absorbing mystery of the night.  Prescott made some newsy additions to the story, and through it all took the confident keynote that the vanished banker would soon be heard from in the flesh.

The work done, and Bradley having already seen to the return of the horse to the livery stable, Dick and Dave went into an unused room, where they threw themselves down on piles of old papers.  Tired out, they slept without stirring.  But they had left a note for the office boy who was due at six o’clock to sweep out the business office.

That office boy came in and called the High School pair at a few minutes after six.  Dick’s first thought was to instruct the boy to telephone the Prescott and Darrin homes at seven in the morning, sending word that the two boys were safe but busy.  Then Dick hastily led the way to a quick-order restaurant near by.  Here the boys got through with breakfast as quickly as they could.  That done, they bought sandwiches, which they put into their pockets.