yet," remarked the senator's
son, as they slowed up and looked ahead and to both sides of the
village street.

"No, and I don't understand it," returned Dave. "From what that
carpenter's helper said, I thought we should overtake him before we
got to Bixter. Either he must have left this road, or else he must be
some walker."

"I don't see where he could have gone if he left the road, Dave. All
we passed were lanes leading to the farms, and a path through that
wood. It isn't likely he would take to the woods in this cold
weather--not unless he was going hunting, and that chap back in
Clayton didn't say anything about his carrying a gun."

With the horse in a walk, they passed down the village street and back
again. As they did this they kept their eyes wide open, peering into
the various yards and lanes that presented themselves.

"I'm afraid it's no use unless he is in one of these houses or in one
of the stores," was Roger's comment.

"I'll ask at the stores," returned Dave.

The inquiries he and his chum made were productive of no results so
far as locating Ward Porton was concerned. No one had seen or heard
of the former moving picture actor.

"All the strangers we've seen to-day was a cigar drummer," said one of
the shopkeepers. "And he was a fat man and about forty years old." The
other storekeeper had had no strangers in his place.

Hardly knowing what to do next, Dave and Roger returned to the
cutter.

"Maybe he went farther than this," suggested Roger. "We might go on a
mile or two and take a look."

Now that they had come so far, Dave thought this a good idea, and so
they passed on for a distance of nearly two miles beyond Bixter. Here
the sleighing became poor, there being but few farmhouses in that
vicinity.

"It's no use," said Dave, finally. "We'll go back to Bixter, take
another look around, and then return to Clayton and home."

When they arrived once more at the village Dave suggested that he and
his chum separate.

"There are a number of these lanes that lead to some back roads," said
Dave. "Perhaps if we tramp around on foot and ask some of the country
folks living around here we may get on the track of the fellow we are
after."

The senator's son was willing, and he was soon walking down a lane
leading to the right while Dave went off to the left. Presently Dave
came to a barn where a farmer was mending some broken harness.

"Hello! Back again, are you?" cried the farmer, as he lo