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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 of his 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 th.o.r.n.y 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 s.h.i.+ns, 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, of course, 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 just _got_ to 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.
CHAPTER VII.
IN HOT PURSUIT.
TOBY and 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!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed 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, as he 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.