“Be careful you don’t get caught for speeding,” cautioned Bob.
“Oh, I don’t believe any of the constables in this country township have motorcycles with cyclometers on,” spoke Jerry, with a laugh. The auto was now moving swiftly along, but at no illegal rate of speed. However, it was not more than ten minutes after this that, as the lads passed a cross road, they heard some one shout after them:
“Hold on there! You’re goin’ too fast!”
“Better slow up,” advised Ned, after a swift glance at the man who had warned them. “There’s a fellow with a motorcycle, Jerry. Maybe he’s a constable.”
“Oh, I guess not,” was the response, for Jerry was anxious to get the next telegram, and the auto kept on.
“He’s coming after us,” announced Bob, when a backward glance had showed him the man in pursuit. “He’s coming, Jerry!”
“I heard him,” was the reply, as the explosions of the smaller machine sounded in the rear. “I hear him, but we’ll be out of this township in a few minutes, and he hasn’t any jurisdiction in the next, where they’re more liberal in the matter of speed laws.”
So on they kept, the man in the rear, on his motorcycle, calling to them, at intervals, to stop.
“There,” announced Jerry, as he passed a mile post, “we’re out of his territory now, and he can’t molest us.” But the motor cyclist still came on, and, as Jerry slowed up, when nearing a curve, the man in the rear, with a sudden burst of speed, swung his machine ahead of the auto. Then, jumping off, after a quick stop, he placed himself right in the path, so that Jerry was obliged to stop, to avoid running him down.