Browning, although still stout and sturdy, had worked himself down to a hard, healthy condition, and was really a stunningly handsome fellow. There was about him a suggestion of great strength, and almost any man might have hesitated about facing him in anger.
As Merriwell was one who constantly kept himself in perfect condition, it cannot be said that he was looking better than when the party left New York, although he, like the others, was tanned by exposure to all sorts of weather.
As the party came around a bend of the road, they saw another young bicyclist, who was standing beside his wheel, somewhat uneasily regarding their approach.
“Hello!” exclaimed Diamond. “Here’s a fellow traveler.”
Frank took off his cap and waved it about his head, but the stranger did not answer the salute.
“Some way he doesn’t seem at all pleased to see us,” said Rattleton.
“It may be the way with Californians,” said Diamond.
“Anyhow we’ll stop and ask him a few questions,” Merriwell said. “At least, he can’t refuse to answer us, if we are civil.”
So, as the boys came up, they slackened their speed and prepared to dismount. To their surprise the stranger made preparations to mount, as if he contemplated riding away if they stopped.
“He’s going to run away,” grunted Bruce, in disgust.