"That was fine! I never thought of doing that!" exclaimed Arthur. "I do believe it's going to save us, too. We can't be more than a mile and a half from Boncelles now."
"We'll get there—unless our gasoline gives out altogether before that, Arthur. And it may. The engine is certainly missing all the time, now. Oh, if it will only hold out!"
Their speed was greatly reduced now. And from behind the other motor started again.
"I admire those Germans!" said Paul. "A good many people wouldn't keep at it the way they're doing. It's no joke to ride on a motorcycle with both tires gone. They'll remember to-night for some time, I think! They'll be sore and shaken to pieces before they're done."
"They'll be better off than their machine," said Arthur, philosophically. "There won't be enough of that left to sell for junk if they ride it very far in that condition."
"Well, I don't believe they'll care about that, if they only catch us and get the plans—"
It was a sudden lurch of the machine, accompanied by a sputtering and a stopping of the motor, that interrupted him. The two scouts sprang off just in time, steadying the machine.
"Drop it! Into the fields here!" cried Paul. "We can't run any longer. We must try to elude them by tricking them. Come on!"
And so they were obliged to abandon the machine that had served them so well, leaving it lying in the road. They ran across a ditch that bordered the road, and into a field where they managed to conceal themselves in a hedge. They could still see the white road, and the collapsed motorcycle, but there was a chance, even if it was a slim one, that they themselves would not be seen.
Arthur wanted to run across the field, but Paul stopped him.