“Let me wish you the best of luck,” said Ed with an attempt at gallantry.  “I’d go with you, only I must give the chief all the particulars, in case it’s stolen, you know.  Then I must telephone to the bank.”

“That’s all right,” put in Jack.  “Go ahead.  We’ll make a hunt for that small fortune.  Can I do anything for you here?”

“No, thanks.  I think not.  You are going to have a useless errand, though, I fear, but I appreciate what you are doing for me.”

“Come on—­hurry!” cried Cora, all impatient to be off, and then, when Walter climbed in beside her and Jack sent his car off, following the big machine of his sister, Ed disappeared behind the door of the police station.

CHAPTER VIII

A VAIN SEARCH

“Here’s where the collision occurred!” exclaimed Cora a little later, when her car and Jack’s, having been sent at a fast speed down the road, came to a halt, and she directed her brother’s attention to the spot.

“No, this isn’t it,” objected Walter.  “It’s farther on.  It’s right near an old stump, don’t you remember?”

“Oh, yes,” answered Cora as she sent her car ahead again.  “This is where we nearly ran into the wagon.  I’m so excited I can’t think straight.”

“Well, be sure you steer straight!” cried Jack from the rear.  “I don’t want to run into you.  Better let Walter take the wheel.”

“Indeed, I’ll do nothing of the sort!” cried Cora, laughing.  “With all due respect to you, Walter, of course,” she added with a bright look up into the face of her companion.  “But don’t you think I can manage my machine pretty well?”

“More than pretty and more than well,” was her escort’s reply.  “Jack is a base defamer of your ability.”

“Oh, you had to say that, Walt!” cried Jack, the irrepressible.  “Push on.  We want to get that money before some one walks off with it.”

They were soon at the spot, where many tracks in the road showed that there the collision had taken place.  Here was where Ed had alighted to fix Cora’s car.  His small machine had on a set of peculiar tires, and the impressions and indentations of the rubber shoes, which were new, were plainly, visible in the road.

Stopping their machines alongside the highway, the three young people began a careful search of the dusty stretch.  They went over every inch of the ground, particularly in the vicinity of the place where Ed had stopped to fix the broken mud guard.  But there was no sign of the pocketbook.

“Maybe it was dropped farther back,” suggested Jack.

“Well, we’ll try there,” assented Cora, and for ten minutes they walked up and down the road, some distance back from the place where Ed had alighted.

“Now try farther on,” was Walter’s suggestion, and they did this.

But all to no purpose.  They were not rewarded by the welcome sight of a brown leather wallet, bulging with riches.