THE MOTORCYCLE SQUAD.
NOBODY spoke 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 were just 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 he would 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 anything that 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 the main 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 come along. 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."