Elmer had raised his motorcycle and started the engine going, after dropping the rest at the rear, so that the back wheel could spin in the air.
"Seems to work all right!" declared Toby.
"Glad to say there's been no damage done, except a dent in the gas tank, and that can be easily pounded out later on," Elmer declared, as he heaved a sigh of relief.
"Are we going to let that hobo get off so easy; or do we chase after him?" asked Nat, glaring around at the neighboring woods, in the depths of which no doubt the object of his anger was snugly ensconced, watching to see what they would do.
"No use trying to get hold of him," remarked Elmer. "Forget it, and let's bump along the road. He just saw a chance to steal something that he really had no use for, and couldn't hold back. It's all right now, and no damage done. Get ready to start, fellows!"
In another minute they were speeding away, possibly much to the relief of the concealed tramp, who had begun to fear that he had stirred up a hornet's nest, and was likely to get stung pretty badly.
Ten minutes later, with all three machines humming merrily, they flitted past a roadside tavern.
"See that?" called Elmer over his shoulder to Toby, who was next in line.
"The road house, d'ye mean?" answered the other.
"Second signing station, fourteen miles, about, from Hickory Ridge," Elmer said.