SIGNS OF TROUBLE.
"Lookat 'em all in a bunch!" cried one of the watchers; for the crowd had been particularly requested not to follow the six walkers or annoy them in the start.
"But with Lil Artha at the head!" called another exultantly.
"But they're all keeping up close with him, even if Red does have to cover five steps to three by Lil Artha. It ain't the length of a fellow's legs that counts for everything in a hike, let me tell you!"
"Shucks! Why, Lil Artha is just playing with 'em," laughed another.
"Sure he is; when he feels like it, he'll make a ring around the rest, and then not be pushed!"
"Oh, he will, eh? Shows how much you know about these things. Lil Artha may be due to a little surprise before many hours go past; and it'll be George Robbins who will do it," said Landy, proudly.
"For he has the true Philander Smith grit," sang another; at which there was a shout from the rapidly breaking-up crowd, for this little weakness on the part of the fat boy was pretty generally known.
Presently a turn in the road shut out the walkers. They were all going strong when last seen, and Lil Artha even turned to wave a jaunty farewell to those of his friends who had wished him success in the great hike.
Elmer and the balance of the scouts gathered togetherto talk over matters connected with the affair. A plan of campaign had been mapped out with almost as much care as if a battle were impending. Indeed, all sorts of road maps had been consulted in laying out the course over which the six contestants were expected to pass. And a copy of the same, as well as the rules governing their actions, had been sent over to the Fairfield troop at the earnest request of the scout master who had lately taken charge there.
The morning began to wear on.
Some of those who had gathered to watch the start had come without waiting for breakfast, though the scouts, as a rule, could not be reckoned in that class, being early risers. And as the hours went by there was always more or less excitement around headquarters.
Several fellows had brought their wheels around. These were the chosen inspectors whose duty it was to sally forth at certain hours when Elmer gave the word, and pick up the several contestants along the way, perhaps telephoning any interesting news connected with them from some convenient inn where the registers were placed.
Mr. Garrabrant and one of the scouts had gone off in an auto long ago. They expected to establish the chosen stations and leave the registers in which each fellow was to enter the time of his coming and going.
At ten o'clock the first scout on a wheel was sent out. Another would follow at twelve, and around four Elmer, as the last inspector, expected to start. He chose to be last because a fellow who owned a motorcycle had loaned it to him for the occasion, and thus he had a big advantage over the others.
When noon came there was a ripple of interest. A scout had come from the store where the telephone stationhappened to be located, and he brought the first news of the big hike.
All the contestants had made the first station easily, passing within five minutes of each other. And, strange to say, it was Lil Artha whose time seemed to be just at the tail end of the procession. No one could understand it, and all sorts of speculations began to pass current.
"Got a stone in his shoe and bruised his heel!" one suggested.
"More'n likely he's gone and strained a tendon again; remember he did that two years ago when he made the home run that won the game!" another exclaimed.
"Rats!" called out a third, scornfully. "The sly old fox is only doing that for fun. He's playing with the other fellows, believe me. When he gets good and ready he'll pass the bunch, and leave 'em so far behind they'll forget their names. Oh, I know Lil Artha! Why, he even took his little camera along. Said he wanted to snap off a few pictures on the way, just to pass time, when he got too lonesome."
After a hasty lunch the boys again assembled at the church, and if anything, in greater numbers than before; for every fellow in town seemed to be on the spot, anxious to hear what news might come dribbling in.
Two o'clock came, and with it a running scout from the store, where several were stationed in order to be ready to answer the phone.
More news, and of a character to arouse great excitement. At the second station there was a difference of just thirteen minutes between the arrival of the leader and the last contestant. That leader was Lil Artha; and sad to relate, the tail ender trailed the proud banner of the Philander Smiths in the dust, for it was no other than George.
"Told you so!" burst out the fellow who had been so positive about the tall Lil Artha playing tricks. "He's starting now; and by night time he'll be hull down in the distance. It's sure a walkover for Lil Artha."
"Reckon you're right, and that it's all over but the shouting!" declared another, who had been for Red Huggins, but proved rather weak-kneed in his faith.
Strange how the different natures of boys crop out under such conditions.
"Huh, it's too early in the game to throw up the sponge like that, Ben!" declared another fellow, derisively. "All sorts of things might happen to Lil Artha. You never can tell about them long-legged fellows. They're apt to double up like a hinge with cramps or something. Wait and see. Jack's holding his own with the rest, because he was only three minutes behind the leader!"
"Next time it'll be half an hour, because Lil Artha has unlimbered his heavy artillery. Why, I bet you he's going along like a Weston, right now, and just eating the miles up."
"Yes, we'll get a message from Little Falls any minute now telling how he blew in there with his seven-league boots, and has started back!" mocked another, who apparently did not love the lanky one any too well.
Meanwhile Elmer was trying to keep his finger on the pulse of things as well as he could. It was while he was taking a look at the motorcycle that had been placed at his disposal, to make sure the tank had a full gallon and a half of oil aboard, and everything in order for a start, that he heard the tooting of a horn up the road.
A couple of the scouts chanced to possess motorcycles. True, they had seen considerable of service, and were often in a condition far from useful; but then Nat Scott,whose father was at the head of the schools in Hickory Ridge, and Toby Jones, had had more or less sport in times past with the second-hand machines purchased with their savings.
It was now just five minutes of four, and Elmer expected to make his start as the hour struck. He knew that he would have time enough to overtake the leading walker long before night set in.
Somewhat to his surprise, the boys who were coming began to shout as soon as they drew near; and he noticed that both of them seemed very much excited.
Elmer's face paled a trifle. He wondered whether any accident could have overtaken one of the contestants; though he could not imagine how such a thing might be.
"Hold on, Elmer, was afraid we wouldn't get here in time to catch you!" called Nat, as they came along, both machines popping merrily; though it might be noticed that they were erratic in their explosions, proving that the spark could not be doing its full duty.
Of course nothing could have tempted Elmer to hasten off now. He wanted to hear what these scouts had to say.
And he remembered something just then. Neither Nat nor Toby had been present to witness the start of the six who had entered for the race. The scout master had appointed them, at their earnest request, as a committee to go over to Fairfield and watch the start of those scouts in the rival organization, so as to bring back a detailed account.
Perhaps Mr. Garrabrant, knowing boys as well as he did, may have secretly suspected that it might pay to have a couple of wide-awake fellows around Fairfield during the day to keep their eyes and ears open. He happened to know that there had arisen a new bully in Fairfield, whowas doing all in his power to assume the reins laid down by Matt Tubbs at the time he saw a great light and gave over his evil ways when taking up the attractive scout movement. And it might be that some of those turbulent Fairfield fellows would get together and hatch up a scheme for keeping the Hickory Ridge scouts from winning the long hike.
All this flashed into the mind of Elmer as he saw Nat and Toby speeding toward the church and waving their hands as they shouted.
They came to a stop with something of a dramatic effect, and leaned their motorcycles up against the wall of the church. Of course there was a rush on the part of everyone within sight and hearing of the spot; and already all sorts of wild theories were circulating, as they will at such a time.
"What's happened, d'ye think?" one gasped, looking frightened; for he had a brother in the contest, and his first fear was that something had happened to him.
"One of the boys must have been badly hurt! Perhaps they've come for the ambulance to fetch him home!"
"Aw, get out! What's the use talkin' that way, Jim? However could they get knocked out that way?"
"Besides, ain't Nat and Toby been over at Fairfield all day under orders? Must be news from that place. Perhaps Matt Tubbs has gone back to his old ways again and plans to do our fellows up on the road!"
"Matt Tubbs is all right, and don't you forget it. Here, quit your pushin', and give a feller a chance to get in near Elmer!"
Meanwhile Elmer had waited until the two scouts had saluted, as they had been taught to do when meeting a superior officer; since respect to authority is one of thecardinal principles to which the tenderfoot subscribes when he first joins a patrol.
"Have you just come from Fairfield, Number Four?" Elmer asked, turning first to Toby, who belonged to the Wolf Patrol, which was under his own particular care as patrol leader.
"Yes, sir; been there all day," replied Toby, who was breathing rather hard, as though he might have been having trouble with his machine on the road, and had found it necessary to do considerable wrestling with it in order to make the old tub behave.
"You were dispatched there by our scout master, in order to watch the start of the Fairfield scouts, and be able to give a detailed report of the same?" Elmer continued.
"Just what we were, sir; but that was not the whole extent of our instructions," Toby went on.
"I believe you were also told to stay around during the better part of the day, mingling with the boys of the town all you could, and learning if any underhand doings were being engineered among the tough element outside of the scouts?"
"That's what," replied Toby. "And just this afternoon we got on to something by accident that we thought ought to be reported to headquarters. Wanted to phone it, but they're repairing the wire between here and Fairfield, and we had to try another way. So we hit up a hot pace and came over direct on our machines; though of course we had trouble on the road."
"You did the right thing, Number Four," remarked Elmer. "And now, tell us what you learned. Is there any sign of treachery afoot?"
"Just that, as sure as you live!" cried Nat, unable to hold himself in longer, when he had as much right to beheard as his mate. "They're getting up a scheme to upset all our plans. We didn't hear a breath about it till three, but the fellers in the game had started more'n an hour before."
"Meaning to waylay our boys, and put them out of the running?" asked Elmer, showing signs of anger, as well as an eagerness to be moving.
"Yes, but not exactly by what Mr. Garrabrant would call physical violence," Toby spoke up, pushing his comrade back at the same time. "Four fellows who don't belong to the scouts, I'm glad to say, started out in a car, with the intention of finding whether it seemed likely a Hickory Ridge scout was far in the lead, and if he was, then they meant to tempt him to ride with them for a mile or more, knowing that if he did this he would be disqualified in the race."
"And if he refused, what then?" asked Elmer, knowing what the answer would be.
"They mean to take him along against his will!" shouted Nat, triumphantly, before Toby could answer.
THE MOTORCYCLE SQUAD.
Nobodyspoke for several seconds; but those of the scouts who were in the crowd looked at each other with gathering frowns. They saw instantly that, according to the rules of the game, if one of the contestants accepted a chance to ride, or even was induced against his will to be carried over a part of the course in an auto, a wagon, or any conveyance whatever, he would invalidate his chances.
"It's a rotten shame, that's what!" declared Larry Billings who belonged to the Beaver Patrol, and pinned his faith on either Matty Eggleston or Red Huggins carrying off the prize, for party faith was strong in the troop.
"Just what you might expect from Fairfield!" cried another disgusted one.
"Hold on, don't say that!" said Elmer, holding up his hand. "There are decent fellows over there, just as there are in Hickory Ridge; and in both places you can find some mean ones. Didn't you hear Toby and Nat say that this contemptible game didn't crop up in the ranks of the scouts of Fairfield, but some rank outsiders, who think they are doing their mates a good turn, when in fact it's the worst thing they could hatch up? Even if they win the prize it will always be tarnished; and people will say it would have come to Hickory Ridge troop only for foul play."
A clamor of many tongues broke loose. Everybody seemed to want to air his or her views; and the girls werejust as indignant as any of the boys in denouncing the outrage.
"Here, you'll have to let up on that, friends, or else I'll take the boys inside the church to talk with them," called Elmer, waving his campaign hat with a show of authority.
"Keep still, everybody!"
"Give us a chance to think!"
"Let Elmer run it; he knows what to do!"
"Sure; and he'll do it, too, you bet. I'm sorry for them four Fairfield bullies. They're going to be up against it good and hard, right quick now!"
Gradually the racket ceased, and Elmer could talk again. Those who were close enough leaned forward to listen, eager to understand just what plan the young assistant scout master would engineer in the absence of Mr. Garrabrant, with the idea of frustrating the clever if unscrupulous scheme of the enemy.
It was a time that called for prompt action, as Elmer well understood. If one of the Hickory Ridge scouts was well in the lead, doubtless those four schemers in the automobile would, by the time night came on, start operations. Whether the victim was Lil Artha, or any one of the others, he could not successfully hold his own against four stout fellows. And having once dragged him into the car, they meant to carry him many miles along the route; dumping him out after they had "played hob," as Nat expressed it, with all his chances.
Elmer thought fast. He had his motorcycle ready, and knew that in all probability he could readily head off the game, unless it was rushed through without waiting for night to fall.
The only thing that bothered him was the fact that hewould be just one against four; and in such a case he might suffer the same fate it was intended to mete out to the leader in the race.
If only the machines of Nat and Toby could be depended on now, there was nothing to prevent his taking the boys along; and he felt confident that both of them were in a humor to accept at the drop of the hat. Filled with indignation at the mean nature of the trick which those Fairfield fellows had up their sleeve, and which they doubtless considered smart, Toby and his mate would be only too glad of the chance to accompany the scout leader on his mission of rescue.
"How about your gas?" he asked, turning to the boys; and it would seem as if they understood just what the question implied, for a look of delight took the place of the frown that had marked both faces.
"Heaps!" cried Toby, grinning.
"Filled mine just this morning, enough for seventy miles, and I haven't gone more than thirteen!" declared Nat, also newly excited at the joyous prospect.
"Then let's get a start away from here," Elmer called, for the noise had begun again, and it was difficult to carry on any sort of a conversation with comfort. "Anyhow, we can drop out of town a few miles, and then stop to consult."
"Wow! That's the ticket, Elmer!" exclaimed Toby, making a rush for his machine.
"Bully! Bully all around! I'm on deck, Johnny on the spot. Won't we do 'em up brown though, if we only ketch 'em," cried Nat, rather forgetting that as a scout fighting was only to be resorted to as a last thing, and then in defense of another rather than himself.
When the crowd saw the three getting ready to mount,they went fairly wild; and every imaginable sort of exhortation was shouted. The news had circulated like wild-fire, and everyone knew in some sort of hazy way that the bullies of Fairfield were aiming to break up the great hike.
"Get 'em, Elmer!"
"Oh, you Fairfield crowd, we're sorry for you!"
"Pinch 'em, Elmer! Knock the skunks into the middle of next week!"
"You can do it, Elmer, we know you can! Give the rascals the best licking they ever had! It's been a long time coming; hand 'em the interest that's due!"
Evidently these last remarks did not come from any fellow in khaki, since they had been learning other things from the day they signed the roster of the scouts. But even Elmer himself was thrilled with indignation; it seemed so mean and contemptible in those Fairfield boys to want to spoil the greatest hike contest that had ever been started.
The machine that had been loaned to him was in good trim; and, moreover, Elmer knew considerable about managing a motorcycle, though he had never as yet owned one.
He started his engine without the least difficulty, and then jumped into the saddle with the grace of one who had long since mastered the art. The crowd opened up before him, and Elmer sped along the road.
"Oh, you Indian, I bank on you!" called one of the enthusiastic town fellows.
"Hi! Get a move on you, Toby and Nat!"
"Give the old wrecks a poke in the slats, and make 'em be good!"
"There goes Toby! Good boy, you!"
"Now, Nat will you let that dare slip by? Hit her up, Nathan; that's the ticket!"
"Whoopla! We're all off!"
In this fashion did they call out, with other remarks which space would not admit of our printing. Nat had had a little trouble in making the start, since his engine must have cooled down more or less; but after a little fussing he managed to coax his battered old machine into emitting a few rattling volleys, and then suddenly launched forward.
Passing a mile or so down the road, Elmer threw up his hand in the way drivers have of telling that they mean to either turn aside or else stop, and which is a warning for those who may be following to look sharp.
Then, picking out a place where they could stand the heavy machines up against a rail fence, he came to a halt, stepped off, and awaited the coming of the others.
"What happened?" exclaimed Toby, as he, too, reached the spot and dismounted.
"Had a puncture, or spark gone back on you?" demanded Nat, when he, too, came booming along, to make a sudden halt and straddle his balky machine while he talked.
"Nothing happened," returned Elmer; "but before we start off we want to make sure it isn't going to be a wild-goose chase."
"But we heard that talk, and we don't think they could have been kidding; because you see none of 'em dreamed we were near by," Toby declared, vehemently.
"That may be all true enough," Elmer said, "and at the same time, unless we know just what we aim to do, we may make a bad mess of it. Now, did you learn anythingthat would tell just where they expected to hold our fellow up, in case he was in the lead?"
"Why, no, of course not, Elmer," replied Toby. "You see, that would have to depend altogether on how far the race had gone. It might be thirty miles away from the start, and it might be less."
"Right. And we'll have to follow along the course in order to get ahead. Here, we can put in a few minutes to good advantage studying my map. I've got an idea that by taking the Glenville short-cut road we can save five miles easy. Perhaps there may be some other ways of cutting the distance down. We looked after that when we arranged the stations."
"Look here, Elmer, don't you think it might be a good idea for us to go right along to the first station, and see if there has been any late news from the front?" asked Nat.
"Gee, that sounds like we were in a regular battle!" declared Toby, his face aglow with eagerness, as he awaited the scout leader's reply.
"A fine suggestion, Nat, and we'll do it, just as soon as we've glimpsed this map again," observed the one addressed, as he sat down by the roadside and drew a folded package from his pocket.
Elmer had made these road maps himself from one he found in the house. They were rather cleverly done, and showed every road, with the distances properly marked, all the way to Little Falls. Besides, they had the various taverns, where stations had been established, carefully marked in red ink, so that no one could complain that he lacked information.
Running a finger along the route, Elmer quickly showed where in two places they could, if they wanted, leave themain road and take advantage of short cuts that must save them quite a number of miles.
"But after all," he said, shaking his head, as he glanced at the motorcycles of his comrades, "it might be a case of saving at the spigot and wasting at the bunghole."
"How's that, Elmer?" asked Toby, perplexed.
"Well, we don't know what shape these side roads may be in after that heavy rain night before last," he answered, folding up the map.
"That's a fact!" ejaculated Toby; "and neither of us thought about that for even a minute. Say, Nat, those roads are only dirt ones, and not macadamized a single bit. Perhaps we wouldn't have a warm old time jolting along over 'em, eh? I can just imagine your old omnibus going out of commission before you made a quarter of a mile."
"Well, I admit that's so; but that would be about twice as far as your rattlebox would carry you, Toby," the other remarked, with a sting in his words.
But, then, when together they usually occupied much of their time, when not engaged in waiting to make repairs, in poking fun at each other's motorcycle; so that there was little venom to the sting. It had all been threshed out time and time again.
"Do we tune up now, Elmer?" asked Toby, as he prepared for a flying start, that would make his companion turn green with envy.
For answer Elmer took hold of his machine, manipulated the lever, and as the engine started to throb, jumped into the saddle, much to the envy of both the others, who could never depend on doing anything as they planned.
However, they managed to get moving, though Elmer had to slow up at the next bend in order to let them comealong. He believed he would need the assistance these two stout scouts were capable of affording; and but for that must have been tempted to put on speed and leave them far in the lurch to wrestle with their various troubles as best they might.
So they sped along. Now and then something would happen to one of the old machines and cause a delay. Thanks to the presence of Elmer, who knew more about machinery than either of the others, even though they had owned motorcycles for years, these troubles were adjusted in an unusually short time. Had it been otherwise, Elmer must have felt compelled to abandon his running mates, since minutes were valuable to him just then.
They presently came in sight of a road house, which Elmer understood was the first on the list of stations. He also remembered that one of the scouts had been detailed to remain at this place, to use the phone as a sort of relay station, and transmit any message from farther up the road.
"We'll hold up here a little while, boys," he remarked, as he shut off power and prepared to bring his machine to a full stop. "Perhaps the news from up the road may be worth listening to. Pull in and jump off. There's Hen Condit in the doorway right now, beckoning to us."
GETTING IN A RUT.
"Greatnews, fellows!" called Hen Condit, as he gave the salute on seeing that the assistant scout master was with the party on motorcycles.
"What's that you say, Hen?" shouted Toby, making a flying jump from his saddle that caused him to land plump on hands and knees before the road house.
"Here, hold on, what d'ye think you're doing, Toby Jones?" called Nat, who was showing a little more deliberation in dismounting. "Guess you're dreaming about aeroplanes and all such tomfoolery. Think you can fly, eh? Well, grow a pair of real wings first!"
Toby's pet hobby lay in the line of aeronautics. He was forever studying up the mysteries of bird motion, and had the records of all the leading aeroplane drivers at his finger tips, so that he could tell instantly what was the highest point as yet reached by a bird-man; the fastest flight made singly and with a passenger; the longest distance traversed without alighting, and lots of other similar facts in which the average boy might not be greatly interested.
He had several times made a gallant attempt to fly, but thus far the machines he had constructed lacked some essential quality. At any rate Toby had suffered pretty much as did the Darius Green of whom we older fellows used to read in our earlier days; and perhaps can stillremember declaiming the story of a vaulting ambition that took a tumble from the old barn roof.
Elmer gained the doorway where Hen Condit, one of the later recruits in the Hickory Ridge troop, awaited him. Hen had only received his new uniform on the preceding day, and hence he felt as proud as a peacock. His chest had never before been known to have anything like the fine appearance that it now presented. And only that morning his doting father had remarked that joining the scouts had done more for the Condit son and heir than years of pleading and scolding had effected, in so far as making him stand up, and throw his shoulders back.
"Now, what's the news, Number Eight?" asked Elmer; for the boy in the doorway belonged to the Wolf Patrol, though a real tenderfoot, in that he had only qualified for the lowest rung in the ladder by learning how to tie a number of knots, learning what the requirements of a scout consist of, and similar things.
"I just had news from up the road, sir," said Hen, eagerly.
"Good news, or bad?" asked Elmer, just as if his eyes did not tell him that.
"Fine and dandy, sir," was the reply.
"Of course connected with the advance member of our immortal six?" Elmer continued.
"Sure." Hen forgot to add the term of respect now, for he was burning with impatience to disclose his knowledge.
"Where from?" asked the scout leader.
"Rockledge, which is, I find, about thirty-two miles from Hickory Ridge by the route marked out," answered Hen.
"That's right," muttered Toby, who had the map in hismind pretty accurately, because he and Nat had often scoured the country when their machines were newer and acted more decently.
"What was the report, Number Eight?" Elmer asked.
"One of our boys had just registered there. He was nearly half an hour ahead of the next contestant; though that one appeared to be Felix Wagner, the smart second baseman of the Fairfield nine!"
Elmer looked sober. He realized that the conditions seemed to be peculiarly fitted for the carrying out of the scheme which those four Fairfield plotters had arranged, and started up the road some time before to execute, if it was necessary, in order to help their man win.
A Hickory Ridge scout half an hour ahead of the fleetest of the rival organization! That would mean a Fairfield victory, providing the present leader could in some way be disqualified.
"Who was the first man?" he asked, feeling pretty confident as to what the answer would be.
"Lil Artha! He's doing the Hickory Ridge troop proud this day. We'll forgive a heap in the way of practical jokes if he only comes in away ahead of Felix," Hen observed, with the natural pride boys always take in their home-town doings.
"Hurrah for Lil Artha! Didn't I always say he would show them a clean pair of heels? Oh, he's a wonder at hiking and running! A three-bagger for most fellows lets Lil Artha score the circuit. Bully boy, Artha! Yes, we'll forgive everything if only he keeps this up and puts the Injun sign on Fairfield."
Somehow or other it seemed as though most of their concern lay in the possibility of the rival organization winning the laurels. No matter which of the six homescouts came in ahead, if only he could have the laugh on Fairfield!
"Half an hour ahead, you said, Number Eight?" Elmer pursued, as he turned the matter over in his mind and began to figure as to just how they should act in order to play the game right.
"That's what I got over the wire. If you want, you can call up Rockledge now, and perhaps they'll be able to give more information," Hen Condit answered.
"No need, I reckon. What we want to do now is to get busy," said Elmer.
His eye naturally turned toward the two old machines that were apt to prove so unreliable. And no doubt Elmer was compelled to once more debate within his mind whether it would be best for him to leave Nat and Toby far in the lurch, depending on his single arm to protect Lil Artha against the vandals who would ruin the great hike; or by suiting his pace to their progress, accidents and all, and have comrades to depend on in an emergency.
He quickly made up his mind to stick to them, for a while at least. If things grew to be too bad, he could say good-by and go whirling off at the rate of forty miles an hour.
Elmer was convinced that the fellows in the Fairfield car would hardly be likely to start doing things until darkness came. They would not want Lil Artha to see their faces, so that he could recognize them and later on accuse them when openly denouncing the miserable game.
"Send on the news to headquarters, Number Eight," he said, as he prepared to mount again; a movement that sent both Toby and Nat hurrying toward their machines, anxious to coax them into a fresh start.
"Shall I tell them that you were along, sir?" asked Hen, making the salute.
"Why, of course," said Elmer; "because they'll be anxious; you see, there's a nasty plot afoot to kidnap Lil Artha, and make him forfeit his place in the race, which would go to the next in line."
"And that happens to be Felix Wagner! Great governor! Now I know why you fellows are hitting up the pace! Give 'em one for me, Toby, won't you?" Hen bellowed after the three scouts; but they must have gone beyond earshot, for at least no one seemed to pay the slightest attention to his request.
It had been Elmer's first intention to make this trip on his wheel, like the other inspectors, even though his still sore foot would have rendered this a rather painful undertaking. Perhaps it was the knowledge of his disability that had caused the owner of the motorcycle to offer it to Elmer. At any rate the patrol leader was very glad to have it, since there was little labor needed in order to cover all the ground necessary.
Of course there was little chance for the trio of scouts to exchange words while they were spinning along on their motorcycles. The road was not all that could be desired, the heavy rain of the recent storm had washed it badly in places, so that they had to keep a sharp lookout for ruts.
Possibly there is nothing more exasperating to anyone riding a motorcycle than to find that he is in a deep rut. For a brief time he may be able to keep his proper balance; but presently he leans a trifle too much one way, the heavy machine strikes the side of the rut, and as a consequence there is a sudden dismounting; so that he feels himself lucky if he alights anywhere but on his head.
Knowing this, and feeling that the wabbly machines ofhis comrades were doubly dangerous under such conditions, Elmer always slowed down when he struck a poor streak of road.
Even then their advance was not free from thrills. Toby was the first to take a little header, because of thinking he could push through a rut that somehow seemed to have drawn him as with a magnet, even when he was fully determined that he would give it a wide berth.
He came down with quite a hard bang; and Nat, hearing the noise, and being just a little in advance, tried to twist his head around in order to discover what had happened to his companion in misfortune, when he, too, turned a complete somersault and landed in the midst of a big clump of thorny bushes that grew alongside the thoroughfare.
Of course, Elmer immediately stopped, and leaving his motorcycle, ran back to see whether either of them could be seriously hurt. First of all he laid hold on Nat, who was kicking his legs vigorously in the air, and bleating like a calf. After a little pulling, and working the prisoner of the bush to and fro, he managed to set him free.
"No bones broken, I hope, Nat?" asked Elmer, as the other started to dance up and down, rubbing his elbows, his shins, and every part of his anatomy he could possibly reach.
"Oh, I guess not, Elmer; but ain't I just a sight though?" groaned the other. "My face feels like it was marked with scratches like a map; and here's a big tear in my trousers. Got a safety pin, Elmer? Oh, dear, won't I look terrible!"
"Don't worry over it so much, Nat. Be a scout and show your grit. Those are only little scratches and will be gone in a few days. They're bleeding some now, ofcourse, and feel bad. Let me wash them with some water from this brook, to take any poison out. How is it with you, Toby?" and Elmer turned upon the other unfortunate who came limping along just then, trundling his heavy motorcycle.
"Nothing much, I reckon, Elmer; got a lump about as big as a pigeon's egg on top of my coco; but this ain't the first time by a long shot. I'll be satisfied if only the upset didn't put my old ice wagon here out of commission." And Toby bent over to test the sparking of his machine after dropping the rest to the road.
It started off at a rattling pace, which fact seemed to tickle the owner very much indeed.
"Say, blest if I don't think that tumble must have just knocked it back into its old shape again!" he exclaimed in glee. "Haven't heard her take the spark like that for a year and more. Hoopla! Nat, give yours a try. Hope the same good luck fell your way."
However, such was not the case. Indeed, Nat's machine utterly balked, and refused to do anything. Even after Elmer had spent as much as fifteen minutes puttering over it he could not make it behave.
"I'll give it just one more try, Nat," he declared finally, "and then if it won't work, I'm afraid Toby and myself will have to leave you here. We've justgotto get along now, or it'll all be too late."
"That's right, Elmer," declared the scout, manfully. "I'm not the one to kick on account of being sacrificed for the good of the troop. Lil Artha must be protected against these Fairfield bullies. And if I have to hang out here till after dark, why I'll just feel that I'm doing my little part of the work. But I hope you make it this time,Elmer, because I'd rather be along with you, and have an active share in the rush."
Once more did Elmer bend down over the motorcycle as it leaned against a tree. Two minutes later there suddenly broke forth a rattle of sharp reports and the rear wheel flew around at a dizzy pace.
"Good, good! You did it, Elmer! She's in the running again; and I won't have to camp out here on the road till some wagon comes along to pick me up." And filled with newborn pleasure, Nat proceeded to execute a hornpipe right then and there.
"Well, get along with you both, then; I'll overtake you in about three shakes of a lamb's tail," laughed Elmer, as he stepped off along the road to where he had left his motorcycle.
Ten seconds later the others, just about to start out, heard him calling aloud.
"He says, hurry, Nat," cried Toby, for a little bend in the road hid their chum from them; and not waiting to test their machines any further they were off.
They found Elmer running around, with his head bent low, as though he might be interested in the make of the roadbed.
"What is it, Elmer?" asked Toby, coming to a stop.
"My motorcycle has gone!" was the startling reply the scout leader made.
IN HOT PURSUIT.
Tobyand Nat stared, first at Elmer, and then at each other. Plainly they could not understand what he meant by these strange words.
"Er—d'ye mean you forget just where you left it, Elmer?" asked Toby.
"I tell you it's gone, vanished completely, disappeared!" said the scout leader, with a show of anger in his usually steady voice.
"Great goodness, Nat, he means somebody's swiped it!" ejaculated Toby, his mouth opening in his astonishment.
Nat looked all around him, and then, not seeing a single trace of the fine motorcycle, he began "barking," as Toby called it, after his own peculiar way.
"Gee, whiz, now what d'ye think of that for a hummer! The old story over again of the traveler on the highway falling among thieves. My stars, Elmer, now who under the sun do you think would be so mean as to run off with your machine!"
"I don't know—yet; but I'm going to find out," replied Elmer, setting his teeth in a way he had when greatly aroused.
They saw him bend down again, and start to examine the ground near a tree, against which he evidently had leaned the motorcycle at the time he hurried to the rescue of his comrades in distress.
"Get next to him, would you, Toby?" remarked Nat, ashe watched the mysterious actions of the one who had been robbed.
"Why, sure, I can understand what he's doing easy enough," the other declared.
"Then for goodness' sake put me wise, won't you please?" cried Nat.
"He's examining the tracks left by the chap who got away with his machine while he was working with your old ice wagon!" observed Toby, proudly.
"Well, now, I guess that's just what he is doing, sure as you're born. And don't I just hope he gets on to him! How is it, Elmer?" as the scout leader started to move away.
Toby and Nat followed as close to his heels as they could, considering that he immediately moved into the woods; and they were compelled to trundle their heavy machines along, no easy task under the best of conditions.
"He went this way, all right. I only hope he won't think to smash the thing when he finds we're after him," said Elmer over his shoulder.
He was keeping his head bent low, and following the trail with apparent readiness. The lessons he had learned when on that ranch in the Canadian Northwest were undoubtedly coming in "pat" just now; though really the trail was so very plain that even a novice might have followed it.
"Who d'ye thing could have done it, Toby?" asked Nat, as he pushed his motorcycle through the scrub with a desperate intention not to be left behind.
"Well, Elmer hasn't said a thing yet; but all the same I can give a pretty good guess," returned the other.
"Go on and do it, then, for I'm all in the dark and up a stump. Put me wise, Toby."
"Huh, reckon you forget mighty soon!" grunted the other, who was struggling manfully to rush his heavy wheel along and did not have any spare breath, to tell the truth.
"Oh, slush, now I'm on!" cried Toby. "You mean them Fairfield chaps that came out here to break up Lil Artha's great winning streak?"
"Sure!" Toby grunted again, beginning to conserve his breath when possible.
"They flagged us, and saw a chance to put us on the blink!" exclaimed Nat who, like Lil Artha, was more or less addicted to present-day slang, though otherwise he was known to be a clean fellow, with no serious faults.
"That's it!" snapped Toby, gritting his teeth as though even the thought made him furious.
"It's a punk deal, that's what," Nat went on. "They just believe that if Elmer's out of the running the game is in their hands. But he can have my machine, if he wants to go ahead. If anybody can make it behave, Elmer can."
"Or mine either," declared Toby.
Now Elmer, of course, heard all this talk, even though he seemed to be devoting himself wholly to the business in hand. And at this juncture he beckoned to his comrades.
"He wants us to pick up, and get even with him," declared Toby.
"Sure thing. Guess Elmer is going to take us at our word, and borrow a mount," observed Nat, cheerfully.
Accordingly they put on an extra spurt, and managed to gain enough ground so as to come alongside.
"I heard what you were saying, boys," Elmer immediately remarked, as soon as he saw that they were up with him; "but you're away off in your calculations. It isn't one of those Fairfield fellows at all who's jumped my claim with that borrowed motorcycle!"
"W—w—what's that?" gasped Toby.
"I said that it wasn't a Fairfield fellow who ran off with my machine," repeated Elmer, more positively than before.
"Well, you make me feel like thirty cents," observed Nat; "now, what under the sun would one ofourboys want with a motorcycle when, if he rides on it, for even a minute, he's disqualified in the race?"
"It wasn't one of our scouts either," said Elmer.
"Then for goodness' sake tell us who it could be, Elmer!" cried Toby.
"I haven't even glimpsed him once yet, though he's only a little way ahead of us right now," the scout leader said; "but judging from the fact that his shoes are all broken out, I'm almost dead sure he's some Wandering Willie."
"He means a hobo, a common tramp!" exclaimed Toby in astonishment.
"Tell me about that, will you!" cried Nat. "Just to think of a four flusher like that making off with Elmer's motorcycle, when he needs it the worst kind to block that nasty little game of the envious Fairfield dubs! Oh, it's a cruel world!"
"But we're goin' to get it back, don't you forget that!" Toby insinuated.
"You never spoke truer words, Toby," laughed Elmer; though there was little of mirth in the sound; for the boy was tremendously aroused by this new calamity that threatened to upset all his calculations.
"Hurry, hurry! I can go a bit faster, now that I know what's on!" declared Toby, although his manner of gasping belied his words.
"Oh, there he is right now! Look, look, Elmer!" cried Nat.
All of them caught a glimpse of some moving object that was pushing at top speed through the scrub ahead. Undoubtedly it was the party who had run away with Elmer's motorcycle. They had gained on him constantly, and were now surely overtaking the rascal.
"We're just bound to get him, fellows!" said Toby.
"That's so, Toby; it looks good to me," remarked Nat, as he strained every muscle to keep alongside the others.
Elmer, being free to make a sprint, since he had no machine to trundle along, suddenly left his chums in the lurch. They saw him leaping through the low underbrush as might a deer.
"Hurrah! He'll get him!" shouted Toby.
"Twenty-three for yours, Mr. Wandering Willie!" added Nat.
"Don't I wish Elmer would just hold him till we come up," added the other, with a threat in his manner that hardly became a scout; but then Toby had been a boy long before this scout movement was dreamed of, and the natural instinct is very hard to repress.
"Hey, do we drop our wheels, and make a spurt, so as to be in at the finish?" demanded Nat.
"You can, if you want to," replied his mate; "but something tells me a machine may come in handy yet, even if it is an old huckleberry makeshift like mine."
"Gee, yes! I didn't think of that," Nat muttered, still clinging to his motorcycle. "The hobo might strike the road again, you mean?"
"Yep, that's what, Nat."
"And go skeetering off on Elmer's wheel?"
"Just what I meant," replied Toby. "He's been making a sorter curve all along, like he wanted to strike the road; I noticed that, Nat."
"So did I. Don't like the job of pushing that machine through the scrub any too much, I reckon," Nat remarked, panting from his own exertions.
"And say, do you blame him?" Toby asked.
"Listen!" and Nat cocked his head as though he could hear better in that position.
"What was it? Did you catch a shout for help? Perhaps Elmer's caught up with him, Nat!"
"I thought I heard somebody call out, or laugh," Nat began, when he was interrupted by a shout.
"Toby—Nat, hurry along with your wheels!"
"That's Elmer!" gasped Toby, as he tried to add a little more speed to his forward progress.
"Perhaps he's got him under his knee, and is holding him for us," suggested Nat.
"That's silly," returned the other, immediately. "It won't hold water, Nat. Whatever would he tell us to bring our machines, if he had the hobo? Tell you what, I reckon he's made off along the road with Elmer's motorcycle, that's a fact!"
"And he wants one of ours to chase him with! Oh, I wish I could fly right now, so's to hurry!" Nat cried.
"A fine messyou'dmake of it, if even a fellow like me, that's up to snuff, don't seem able to get it down pat," sneered Toby.
"I see Elmer, and he's waving his hand to us like fun!" exclaimed Nat, without appearing to take any notice of the slur cast upon his abilities in the line of aviation.
Elmer came bounding toward them just then, as though meaning to lend all the assistance in his power toward getting the machine he fancied, if there was any choice in the matter, to the road near by.
He clutched hold of Toby's motorcycle, possibly believing that its recent regeneration might prove fairly lasting.
So they came upon the edge of the road again, after making all that half circle through the woods and scrub.
Toby's first act was to stretch his neck, and stare along the road. A moving object caught his eye, which he had no difficulty in making out to be a motorcycle, upon which a ragged specimen of a tramp was seated, and which he was working at a great ratewith his feet on the pedals!
"He don't know beans about how to run the engine!" Toby exclaimed, with sudden delight, as he saw this plain fact.
The road just there was as straight as a rule, for at least a couple of miles; and the fellow had not gotten more than a quarter of a mile away.
He happened to turn his head to look back just then, while the machine "yawed" at an alarming rate, threatening to dispose of the tramp in the bushes. To the indignation of Toby and Nat, the latter having also managed to reach the spot by this time, the Wandering Willie jauntily waved a hand toward them, as though bidding them a fond adieu.
There was a sudden sputter, and a rattling volley. Then away sped Elmer, mounted on Toby's old machine, which seemed about to redeem itself in this momentous crisis.
"Wow! Watch his smoke, will you!" shrieked Nat.
"Now will you be good, Mr. Hobo!" cried Toby; hoping in his heart that the pursuing machine might not take a notion to perform any of its frequent tricks and betray its new master.
The man on the stolen wheel must have heard that rattle as of artillery behind him, for Elmer never bothered usingthe hush pedal, such was his desire to speed up and overtake the thief who was running off with his mount.
They saw him look back over his shoulder as if in sudden alarm. Then his legs began to work faster than they could possibly have done in ten years, as he endeavored to pedal his stolen property at a rate of speed that would take him beyond reach of the relentless pursuer. But like a meteor shooting across the sky, Elmer bore down on the hobo motorcycle thief.