“We’ll have to be careful about making an accusation, I guess,” agreed the stout lad. “But if we find he _is_ the same chap we saw we could telegraph to the police of Cresville and ask if he was wanted there. If he is, the police there could take the matter up with the police of this place. That’s the way they do it.”
“Are there any police here?” asked Ned, looking around with a smile, for they were in the midst of a country that looked too peaceful to need officers of the law.
“Oh, they always have constables, deputy sheriffs or something in these villages,” said Jerry. “That part will be all right, Bob. Go to it.”
And “go to it” Bob did. As soon as the army had come to a stop and the supper mess had been served, the three motor boys sought and received permission to go off for a stroll. It was early evening, and they must be back within the guard lines at ten, they were told, but this would give them time enough.
Having traveled about as much as they had, the three friends had acquired a good general sense of direction, and they had noted the location of the highway down which Bob had said the crooked-nosed man had driven.
It was their plan to go back to this point and make some inquiries of any resident they might meet in regard to the existence, on some neighboring farm, of a man with a nose decidedly out of joint.
“His defect is such that it surely will have been noticed,” said Bob. “He’s a marked man if ever there was one, and he ought to be easy to trace.”
As the three friends left the camp, armed with written permission to be absent until “taps” that night, Jerry, looking across the field, where the dog tents were already up, said:
“There goes Pug Kennedy. He must have a pass, too, for he’s going toward the lines.”
“I hope he isn’t going to trail us,” remarked Bob. “If we make this capture, or give information by which Crooked Nose is caught, we want the honor ourselves,” he added, with a grin.
“Oh, Pug doesn’t know anything about the Cresville fire,” declared Ned.
“He might,” insisted Bob. “He lives just outside the town, and he may have heard of the Frenchman’s loss and about Crooked Nose. Come on, let’s get going, and not have him ahead of us.”
But Pug Kennedy did not seem to be paying any attention to the motor boys. He marched steadily on, showed his pass to the sentry, and was allowed to go through the line. Then he started off down the road.