So Elmer constantly found his previous experience in following a trail of considerable benefit when filling the position of a scout leader. Little things that others would have neglected to notice, or which, if seen, might be looked upon as mere nothings, assumed an importance in his eyes just as they would to an Indian born to reading signs when following a trail in forest or on the desert.
There was no especial need of shouting all this out for the information of the two fellows following after him. They were quite satisfied to leave the arrangement of things in his hands. All Toby and Nat wanted was a chance to have a say in the wind-up; and if the opportunity arose, to put in a good lick for Hickory Ridge.
All the while Elmer was trying to figure distances. He had taken note of the cyclometer at the time he passed Felix Wagner. It stood at just thirty-five miles then. And if, as they suspected, Lil Artha, the gallant Hickory Ridge representative, was some three or four miles ahead of his closest rival, it was now about time they were sighting the long-legged boy pedestrian.
Indeed, unless they soon came upon him, Elmer would begin to worry, lest those reckless blades in the Fairfield car had declined to wait for darkness to come in order to hide their actions, and had already carried their plan into execution.
It was therefore with a purpose that Elmer shaded his speed down until they were not moving along much more than twice as fast as a walker would go.
"Keep tabs on the road to the left, boys, as we go," he called back.
"What for?" demanded Toby, eager to do whatever the leader wished, and yet not able to see for himself.
"Notice any signs that might stand for a struggle," Elmer went on.
"Good gracious! Elmer, do you think they've jumped Lil Artha already?" demanded Toby; and from the rear Nat called out:
"Didn't you say you thought they'd hold over till it got dark enough so he couldn't recognize 'em, Elmer?"