Jerry did so. Soon he was moving off at a fair speed, though, of course, just as if he was on an ordinary bicycle.
“Turn on the gasolene!” shouted Ned.
“And throw in the spark!” called Bob.
“Here she goes,” Jerry yelled back.
There was a series of sharp explosions, like a machine gun being fired at top speed, and the motor-cycle, with Jerry aboard, started off.
“Hurrah!” shouted Ned and Bob.
Bang! Bang! Bang! the machine went, and soon Jerry was a quarter of a mile down the road.
“He ought to shut off the exhaust,” commented Bob. “He can do that on this machine. On some you can’t.”
The two boys, thinking of nothing but motor-cycles and their chances of getting them, passed down the road. Jerry was out of sight. In a little while they espied a cloud of dust down the highway. It seemed to be moving toward them.