"Is this—shorter?" asked Roy.
"About—even thing, I think," answered Pryor.
"A whole minute shorter," said Jack.
Roy sighed for the road as he dragged his feet up a little hill and saw before him a rough bit of country in which rocks and stunted bushes sprang everywhere. For the next quarter of a mile they were always either going up hill or going down; level ground was not on the map thereabouts. Jack took the lead again presently and Chub fell back to where Roy was heroically striving to keep his place. At last Roy stumbled over a root, went head over heels into a clump of bushes, and sat up with the last bit of breath knocked out of him. Chub had stopped, grinning. Roy shook his head and waved his hand for the other to go on.
"Hurt?" asked Chub anxiously.
"At last Roy stumbled over a root, went head over heels into a clump of bushes."
Roy shook his head, found a little breath and gasped:
"I'm—all right. Go ahead. I'll—follow—presently."