The dirt road, rough in many places, made fast traveling on a motor cycle uncomfortable, not to say dangerous. However, as their way led through only three or four small villages, they usually made the trip in about two hours and a half. It was but a little past one o’clock when they started so, as Bob had said, they considered that they had plenty of time.
At half past two they had covered forty miles.
Bob was riding ahead with Jack some thirty feet behind when, suddenly the latter heard a loud report like the crack of a pistol. He looked up quickly to see Bob’s wheel wobbling from side to side as the rider made frantic efforts to keep it under control. He succeeded finally and Jack rode slowly up.
“Must have struck a sharp rock,” Bob declared as he examined the rear tire of his machine. “I should say so,” he added a moment later as he pointed to a ragged cut nearly two inches long.
“It’s a good thing we’ve got some blowout patches in the kit,” Jack declared as he led his wheel to the side of the road and leaned it against a tree.
Bob led his wheel a few feet down the road to where a large maple tree offered a shady spot and the two boys at once set to work to make a temporary repair. They found that the inner tube was split for a distance of several inches, too long a split to be repaired with a patch. Fortunately, however, Jack had a spare tube in his kit and in less than a half hour they were ready to start again.
“I guess she’ll hold till we get there,” Bob said as he finished wrapping tape over the cut.
Just as he was leading the machine out into the road a big car whirled by in a cloud of dust.
“Did you see those two men on the back seat?” Jack asked as he led his wheel up beside Bob.
“No, I didn’t notice them particularly. Why?”