NEARING THE CRISIS.
A SUDDEN howl arose from Nat in the rear.
Both Elmer and Toby knew what it meant. The tricky wheel of Nat had
given signs of balking again, and they must make a stop in order to coax
it to be good. Elmer seemed to have a "wheedling" way about him, both
the others had confessed, when it came to patching up the peace with a
mutinous motor. He seemed just naturally to know how to go about
smoothing out difficulties in a way that told of his being a born
mechanic, although as yet he had found but few chances to show his
skill.
So Elmer, though not without considerable reluctance, threw up his hand
as a signal that he meant to stop. Perhaps he might even have thought of
leaving Nat, and taking only Toby with him; but after the other had
stuck it out so valiantly all this while, it hardly seemed fair to
abandon him on such a slight pretext.
So they were soon busy over the refractory motor, Elmer looking into the
trouble with his customary skill.
"How many other fellows are there ahead of us?" asked Nat, who was
hovering over the one who worked, eager to lend a hand if called upon.
"Quite a bunch," replied Toby. "Let's see, there ought to be Red, Matty,
Lil Artha on our side, and from what we know about the Fairfield crowd
we've still got to reckon with Henry Cobb and Felix Wagner."
"Just leave out Cobb, boys," remarked Elmer, as he worked rapidly.
"Why?" demanded Toby.
"Oh, he's all in, for a fact!" laughed the other.
"But say, we didn't pass Cobb; unless he was lying in the bushes along
the side of the road. How d'ye know he's given up the fight, Elmer?"
questioned Toby, bent on finding out.
"I saw him sitting in that number four station, with one of his feet on
a chair, and being bound up," replied the scout leader.
"Shucks, you don't say so!" exclaimed Nat. "Whatever in the wide world
do you think can have happened to him?"
"Perhaps he's been bit by a mad dog!" suggested Toby.
"Might a' been a rattlesnake; I've heard tell about lots of the critters
being found up this way. One man used to hunt 'em just for the skins and
the rattlesnake oil he got. Some people say it's mighty fine for
rheumatism; and athletes use it a heap. Say, Elmer, what d'ye think?"
Nat went on.
"Oh, nothing like all that stuff," chuckled the other. "Henry has just
sprained his ankle, I reckon, and is getting it bound up. That
eliminates all the Fairfield contestants but one--Felix Wagner."
"And him the most dangerous of the bunch!" muttered Toby.
"How does it come on, Elmer; think you can get it fixed? Gee, I hope so,
because I'd sure hate to drop out now!" said Nat.
"It's going to be all right; just give me three minutes more, and I'll
have it in shape for a long run," came the reply.
"Oh, that sounds good to me!" declared Nat; "because I do want to be in
at the finish"; and secretly behind Elmer's back he doubled up his fist,
showed it to Toby and the two conspirators grinned and nodded, as though
they had their minds fully made up as to what they meant to do if the
chance opened.
Elmer knew what he was saying when he made that promise. By the time the
three minutes were up he handed the motorcycle over to its owner.
"There you are, Nat; give the engine a tryout," he said.
And as the other did so, with the result that the explosions started off
with a rush such as Nat had not been acquainted with of late, he gave a
shout.
"Runs bully, Elmer, you're just a wiz, when it comes to tinkering with
things. I bet you the old hippo runs like a scared dog now. Here goes,
fellows!"
He jumped for the saddle, almost missed it, and managing to climb on,
went along the road furiously, though quickly slackening his speed as
Elmer called out.
"How is it?" asked the latter, as he overtook Nat.
"Just oh be joyful, that's what!" answered Nat, who seemed tickled at
the way his rackety machine was now behaving. "Why, she answers to the
least touch, and is as spry as a young colt. I'm almost afraid she'll
take a sudden notion to run away with me yet, Elmer."
"There's Red, boys! He's still hitting up the pace; but it's only grit
that carries him on now!" observed Elmer.
Red had always been known as the possessor of a stubborn will. Although
he was dragging his feet after him when first the three on motorcycles
discovered him, no sooner did he know of their coming than he braced up
wonderfully and pretended to be as fresh as in the start.
Again were a few sentences exchanged as they drew past. But Red did not
deign to ask how far he was from home. He gave a shout upon hearing that
the long-legged Hickory Ridge scout was said to be well in the lead; as
though his one thought was to have his troop win out.
"Ambulance be along later, Red!" shouted Nat, who could not resist the
chance to get in another little dig; but Red put his hands up to his
mouth to serve as a megaphone as he yelled after them:
"Not for me; I'm able to walk back home again, if I want to,
understand!"
Now they kept a lookout for Matty, who could not be far beyond. They
discovered him bending down at a running stream where he had evidently
been slaking his thirst, and perhaps bathing his tired feet, for his
shoes were both off.
Again did Elmer give the "high sign," and the others took heed. The
three riders jumped to the ground. That clear water looked mighty
enticing; and, besides, here was the last fellow whom they might expect
to overtake, save Felix and Lil Artha; and a wide gap was believed to
exist between them.
"Come on in, fellows, the water's fine," laughed Matty, whose face
looked as if he had dipped it partly in the creek, for the dust was
washed in streaks; but his smile was just as genial as ever.
The trio soon slaked their thirst.
"Where are we at?" demanded the leader of the Beaver Patrol, who had
made a pretty good bid for the prize, considering that he was not gifted
with such long legs as the two fellows ahead.
"I think about twenty-nine miles out," Elmer returned.
"And with just two fellows ahead; but I've got a poor chance to overhaul
'em, though I don't give up yet awhile. That's all, ain't it, Elmer,
Lil Artha and that muscular Dutchman, Felix Wagner?"
"That's all," nodded Elmer. "Glad to find you so filled with pluck,
Matty; though it looks as if Lil Artha would have to carry the colors of
Hickory Ridge troop to the scout master of Little Falls."
"How does the game stand; is Felix overhauling our chum?" asked the
other, as he started to put on his shoes, making a wry face while doing
so, as if his feet might be more or less sore.
"Not that we know of; for at last accounts Lil Artha had a lead of some
three miles, and was going strong," Elmer replied.
"Then what in the mischief do you fellows look so serious about, that's
what I want to know?" demanded Matty, whose sharp eyes had read
something in their manner that told him everything was not as serene as
outward conditions would seem to imply.
"Listen, then, and I'll try to tell you as quickly as I can." And saying
this, Elmer started to relate how word had come of the detestable scheme
engineered by some of the rougher element among the Fairfield boys,
looking to rendering Lil Artha ineligible as a contestant, by either
coaxing him to ride in their auto, or if he persistently declined,
forcing him into doing so.
Matty's indignation was immediate.
"What a lot of scoundrels they are!" he declared, between his set teeth.
"If I wasn't a scout right now, d'ye know what I'd say they deserved?"
"Well, never mind," laughed Elmer; "don't commit yourself, Matty. And
now, boys, since we've refreshed ourselves, let's be moving. This is
probably the last stop we'll make up to the time we overhaul our chum
who is so gallantly carrying our colors to victory. Come along, both of
you."
Elmer had thought they could spare the few minutes needed to get a
drink, and give Matty some hints as to how things stood. The leader of
the Beaver Patrol had made such a brave fight of it, in that he had
covered nearly thirty miles of territory since morning, that really he
deserved to be told.
Fortunately both of the older machines started in decent order.
Doubtless Toby and Nat breathed sighs of relief when this fact became
evident; for they had been having so much trouble of late that they
distrusted the working capacity of the worn-out motors to rise to an
occasion.
But everything seemed going along smoothly, and once more the three sped
along, passing the fifth station, which was the same Rockledge from
whence the news had come concerning Lil Artha some two hours and more
before.
"How far d'ye think he could have gone in two hours, Elmer?" asked Toby,
who, as usual, was making the leader a pacer for his own progress, as he
hung dangerously close at the rear of Elmer's machine.
"Well, if he was fairly fresh Lil Artha might make eight miles, and
think little of it," replied the other.
"But he must be tired by now, and say he's made six, wouldn't that about
fill the bill, Elmer?"
"We'll call it six, just for fun, and let it go at that. Look out for
Felix about this time. He ought to still be half an hour behind the
leader."
"Unless the conditions have changed a whole lot, which I don't think has
happened," Toby called.
Elmer had even considered dropping off while passing through Rockledge,
just to find out when Felix entered his name and time of arrival. But on
second thought he decided that it did not matter much anyway; since it
was not the persistent work of Felix that bothered them half so much as
what the plotters meant to do.
Thirty-two miles' walk was something worth while for boys who had never
made any pretense of being skilled pedestrians; and even the slowest in
the bunch, George and Angus McDowd, need not be ashamed, after having
tramped over twenty miles since sunrise, without any previous experience
and no preparation, such as old walkers of the Weston and O'Leary type
practice before starting on a long hike.
A short time after leaving Rockledge, they believed that they must have
reached the thirty-five-mile stage.
Elmer gave his horn a little toot, that being his way of signaling to
his comrades that he had sighted something ahead.
"Is it Felix?" asked Toby, fearful lest the reply might indicate that
Lil Artha had fallen back to second in the race, and the sturdy Dutchman
beat him out.
"It isn't our chum, anyhow," Elmer answered; "because he lacks half a
foot of being as tall. Yes, it must be Felix Wagner."
"He's walking strong, Elmer!" declared Toby, anxiously.
"So is Lil Artha, you'll find," the other flung back.
"Do you think he can be far ahead still?" Toby persisted, just as though
the boy in the lead could tell everything.
"I reckon he's holding his own," answered Elmer. "When we last heard he
was half an hour to the good. Then we'll likely run across him a few
miles farther on."
"Say, it ain't far from dusk now, Elmer!" sang out Nat from the rear.
"Oh, we know that easy enough," called Toby. "Just you keep your machine
in good temper, Nat, and everything'll be lovely, with the goose hanging
high."
So they flew past the Fairfield walker in rapid style.
After that little exchange of opinions the trio relapsed into silence
for a brief time. The motors kept humming away as though out for
business, and the regular music that his machine was giving forth seemed
especially pleasing to Nat. Why, he was that delighted he could not bear
to hush matters in the least by using the muffler! Who cared for the
noise anyway; this was no crowded town for the police to interfere.
And now Elmer began to grow anxious. Felix had waved his hand to them in
passing, and they had answered in a friendly way, Felix was not supposed
to know anything about the mean plan on foot to further his interests at
the expense of the one whose fine work entitled him thus far to the
lead.
How would they find Lil Artha? Was the pride of the khaki troop holding
out all right, or would they discover that he showed signs of weakening
when that sturdy and persistent Dutchman in the rear would soon pass him
by?