Of course there was little chance for the trio of scouts to exchange words while they were spinning along on their motorcycles. The road was not all that could be desired, the heavy rain of the recent storm had washed it badly in places, so that they had to keep a sharp lookout for ruts. Possibly there is nothing more exasperating to anyone riding a motorcycle than to find that he is in a deep rut. For a brief time he may be able to keep his proper balance; but presently he leans a trifle too much one way, the heavy machine strikes the side of the rut, and as a consequence there is a sudden dismounting; so that he feels himself lucky if he alights anywhere but on his head. Knowing this, and feeling that the wabbly machines of his comrades were doubly dangerous under such conditions, Elmer always slowed down when he struck a poor streak of road. Even then their advance was not free from thrills. Toby was the first to take a little header, because of thinking he could push through a rut that somehow seemed to have drawn him as with a magnet, even when he was fully determined that he would give it a wide berth. He came down with quite a hard bang; and Nat, hearing the noise, and being just a little in advance, tried to twist his head around in order to discover what had happened to his companion in misfortune, when he, too, turned a complete somersault and landed in the midst of a big clump of thorny bushes that grew alongside the thoroughfare. Of course, Elmer immediately stopped, and leaving his motorcycle, ran back to see whether either of them could be seriously hurt. First of all he laid hold on Nat, who was kicking his legs vigorously in the air, and bleating like a calf. After a little pulling, and working the prisoner of the bush to and fro, he managed to set him free. "No bones broken, I hope, Nat?" asked Elmer, as the other started to dance up and down, rubbing his elbows, his shins, and every part of his anatomy he could possibly reach. "Oh, I guess not, Elmer; but ain't I just a sight though?" groaned the other. "My face feels like it was marked with scratches like a map; and here's a big tear in my trousers. Got a safety pin, Elmer? Oh, dear, won't I look terrible!" "Don't worry over it so much, Nat. Be a scout and show your grit. Those are only little scratches and will be gone in a few days. They're bleeding some now, of course, and feel bad. Let me wash them with some water from this brook, to take any poison out. How is it with you, Toby?" and Elmer turned upon the other unfortunate who came limping along just then, trundling his heavy motorcycle. "Nothing much, I reckon, Elmer; got a lump about as big as a pigeon's egg on top of my coco; but this ain't the first time by a long shot. I'll be satisfied if only the upset didn't put my old ice wagon here out of commission." And Toby bent over to test the sparking of his machine after dropping the rest to the road.