"Oh! that's the rest of the lot, whooping it up on their wheels," remarked William, himself interested, and ready to snap his camera at the procession as soon as it got within open range; "and they look like they've had a bad scare, as sure as you live. Oh! there goes Scissors head over heels in the bushes. What a cropper he took, and how his head will sing to-morrow."
"But he's up again, and mounted," broke in Jack. "As sure as you live, boys, they do look like they wanted to get back home in a hurry. What d'ye suppose has scared them?"
By this time Ward on his motorcycle was abreast of the camp. He was not putting up any great speed, for the road would not allow of it. On this account the fellows on ordinary bicycles were able to hang closely to his rear.
It was not in human nature to hold back that cheer which went up from the camp of the Boy Scouts. Possibly there was considerable of irony in it too, the kind that smarts with all lads. Those who were in full flight seemed to consider that
they were being held up to derision, for they sent back answering cries of scorn, accompanied by not a few gestures.
"Hurrah, I've got the whole kit!" shouted William, as he lowered his camera, "Ward, Scissors, Bud Jones, Monkey Eggleston and Nat Green. We've got all the evidence we want, to show they were up here. But I missed that dandy header Scissors took! What wouldn't I give to get that?"
"I might spare you a copy, if my exposure turns out all right, William," remarked Jack, smiling; "for I just happened to be pressing the button when he showed us what an acrobat he had become."
"They're gone now," said Tom Betts, as the last of the group, being poor Scissors himself, with one hand trying to staunch the blood that flowed from his nose, wobbled among the stones that so plentifully strewed the unused road.
Paul and Jack exchanged glances as they approached each other.
"What do you suppose has happened to give them that bad scare?" asked the latter.