Meanwhile, over the wire, MacLeod had sent out descriptions of the four people and the two cars, in the hope of intercepting them before they could be plunged into the obscurity of any near-by city.  Not content with that, MacLeod and Kennedy started out in the former’s car, while I climbed in with Snedden, and we began a systematic search of the roads out of Nitropolis.

As we sped along, I could not help feeling, though I said nothing, that, somehow, the strange disappearances must have something to do with the mysterious phantom destroyer.  I did not tell even Snedden about the little that Kennedy had discovered, for I had learned that it was best to let Craig himself tell, at his own time and in his own way.  But the man seemed frantic in his search, and I could not help the impression that there was something, perhaps only a suspicion, that he knew which might shed some light.

We were coming down the river, or, rather, the bay, after a fruitless search of unfrequented roads and were approaching the deserted Old Grove Amusement Park, to which excursions used, years ago, to come in boats.  No one could make it pay, and it was closed and going to ruin.  There had been some hint that Garretson’s racer might have disappeared down this unfrequented river road.

As we came to a turn in the road, we could see Kennedy and MacLeod in their car, coming up.  Instead of keeping on, however, they turned into the grove, Kennedy leaning far over the running-board as MacLeod drove slowly, following his directions, as though Craig were tracing something.

With a hurried exclamation of surprise, Snedden gave our car the gas and shot ahead, swinging around after them.  They were headed, following some kind of tire-tracks, toward an old merry-go-round that was dismantled and all boarded up.  They heard us coming and stopped.

“Has any one told you that Garretson’s car went down the river road, too?” called Snedden, anxiously.

“No; but some one thought he saw Jackson’s car come down here,” called back MacLeod.

“Jackson’s?” exclaimed Snedden.

“Maybe both are right,” I ventured, as we came closer.  “What made you turn in here?’”

“Kennedy thought he saw fresh tire-tracks running into the grove.”

We were all out of our cars by this time, and examining the soft roadway with Craig.  It was evident to any one that a car had been run in, and not so very long ago, in the direction of the merry-go-round.

We followed the tracks on foot, bending about the huge circle of a building until we came to the side away from the road.  The tracks seemed to run right in under the boards.

Kennedy approached and touched the boards.  They were loose.  Some one had evidently been there, had taken them down, and put them up.  In fact, by the marks on them, it seemed as though he had made a practice of doing so.

MacLeod and Kennedy unhooked the boarding, while Snedden looked on in a sort of daze.  They had taken down only two or three sections, which indicated that that whole side might similarly be removed, when I heard a low, startled exclamation from Snedden.