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 station happened 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, who was 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
