Mile after mile was reeled off and still the two bicyclists kept at their tasks of diminishing the distance between themselves and home. Going up Misson Hill was hard work, especially for such a stout youth as Fred, and Joe had to slow up a trifle for his chum's benefit.
"This isn't going to do us any good when it comes to playing ball," puffed Fred.
"Oh, if we can only get there in time I'll compel Si Voup to give us time in which to rest," answered Joe.
The road down the hill was rather rocky and in one spot there was a steep incline.
"Look out there, Joe!" cried Fred, but the next instant both were flying down the incline at top speed.
All might have gone well had it not been for a washout near the bottom of the hill. This had left a deep gully directly across the roadway and when the boys struck this gully both went flying off their bicycles and into the bushes. The wheels were badly bent, and one of Fred's tires came completely off.
"Hurt?" asked Joe, as he managed to pick himself up.
"I—I don't know," gasped the stout youth. "Oh, what a tumble!"
"Look at the wheels!"
"That settles the question of riding, Joe. We are certainly booked to walk the other four miles."