They rode on slowly, closely watching the right-hand side of the road and had not gone quite a mile when Jack's keen eyes spied a slight break in the thick trees.
"Hurrah!" he called, "here's something that looks promising"; and then as Bob came up, "there's your woods road and there's your gully."
"I believe you're right, now what had we better do?"
"How far do you think the house is from the road?"
"Not more than a third of a mile I should say. Now I don't think we'd better take the wheels in there, because the road is so rough that if we should have to make a quick getaway, we could go much faster without them."
"Then let's hide them in the bushes and hoof it," proposed Jack.
"I kinder hate to leave them, but I guess it's the best way out. Come on."
They led the motorcycles along the woods road for perhaps a dozen yards and then turned off into the thick wood to the left, and after pushing along about two rods, Bob suddenly said:
"There's just the place, right by that birch tree. The bushes in front there are so thick that no one can see them."
Pushing on they carefully hid them there and then turned back to the road.