Evidently the quartette at that came out of hiding and surrounded the tall lad; for his next exclamation seemed to announce this fact.
"Four of you, hey? Well, this is nice of you, boys, to come all this way just to give me a good word of cheer!" he remarked.
"Hold up, don't be in such a hurry to get along, Lil Artha," said one who seemed to be the leader of the lot.
"But how do I know how close some other fellow may be on my heels!" remarked the tall lad; although he evidently did not make any further attempt to brush past them.
"Say, that's just it!" declared the unknown, who, no doubt, had his hat pulled down over his face, and depended on this, as well as the gathering gloom of approaching night, to conceal his identity. "There is a Fairfield fellow hot on your trail, and he's bound to beat you out, because he's got his second wind."
"Yes," spoke up another, quickly, chuckling at the same time; "that's what we're bothered about, Lil Artha. We just can't bear the idea of you being beat to a frazzle by Felix Wagner."
"But I don't mean to be, you know, boys," expostulated the tall boy. "Little Falls ain't mor'n nine miles ahead; and if Felix has got his second wind, I'm in the same boat myself. Count on me to get there ahead of him, fellows!"
"But you might have an accident, stub your toe or something like that," declared the leader of the opposition.
"So might Felix," remarked Lil Artha, cheerfully.
"Yes, that's so," came the reply; "but you don't know the luck of that Dutchman. Everything comes his way, Lil Artha."