you girls could solve the mystery, providing there is one, I know you would be doing Mr. Lagg a service."
"Then let's do it!" cried impulsive Mollie.
"And we'll help," added Will.
Half-jokingly they talked about it as they motored over the pleasant road. There had been a heavy shower the night before and the main highways were in excellent condition, though a trifle muddy in spot. Of course some of the less-used country roads would be well-nigh impassable.
It was while crossing one of these roads, on a hard macadam highway, that the girls and boys saw, stuck in the mud of the poorer path, a peddler's wagon. The bony horse was doing its best to move the vehicle, which had sunk down in a hole, one wheel being imbedded in the mud to the hub.
"Why, it's that hair-tonic man!" exclaimed Mollie, as she slowed down to avoid a rut in the road.
"No, his wagon is all painted with gaudy signs," said Betty. "That's a boy driving that wagon. Why—why!" she exclaimed, as she caught sight of the lad, "it's the same boy who took home the little lost girl for us—the same one who told us about the man with the five hundred dollar bill. It's Jimmie Martin!"
