Dave Porter at Oak Hall. Stratemeyer Edward
Hall."
"And what's your name?"
"Dave Porter. What's yours?"
"Mine? My name is——" the man seemed to hesitate, "Peter Snodgrass. I'm from Pittsburg."
"Peter Snodgrass," thought Dave. "That doesn't square with the initials, W. F. F., that are on that valise."
In a moment more the automobile establishment was reached, and the man who had given his name as Peter Snodgrass walked inside. Looking behind him, Dave saw the policeman approaching rapidly, accompanied by his chief, also in uniform.
"Where is he?" asked the policeman, and then continued to his superior: "This is the lad, chief."
"He just went in here to see if he couldn't hire an automobile," answered Dave.
"Humph! wants to get out of town in a hurry," muttered the chief of police. "It certainly won't do any harm to detain him on suspicion."
All three entered the automobile establishment, and the chief walked up to the man with the valise and tapped him on the shoulder.
"We want you," he said, in a low, hard tone.
The man who had given his name as Peter Snodgrass jumped about a foot. Then he gazed at the guardians of the law in alarm.
"Hang the luck! I reckon the game is up!" he cried, and as quick as a flash he dropped his valise, ran to the open window of the automobile establishment, and leaping outside, disappeared from view.
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