Toby's first act was to stretch his neck, and stare along the road. A moving object caught his eye, which he had no difficulty in making out to be a motorcycle, upon which a ragged specimen of a tramp was seated, and which he was working at a great rate _with his feet on the pedals_! "He don't know beans about how to run the engine!" Toby exclaimed, with sudden delight, as he saw this plain fact. The road just there was as straight as a rule, for at least a couple of miles; and the fellow had not gotten more than a quarter of a mile away. He happened to turn his head to look back just then, while the machine "yawed" at an alarming rate, threatening to dispose of the tramp in the bushes. To the indignation of Toby and Nat, the latter having also managed to reach the spot by this time, the Wandering Willie jauntily waved a hand toward them, as though bidding them a fond adieu. There was a sudden sputter, and a rattling volley. Then away sped Elmer, mounted on Toby's old machine, which seemed about to redeem itself in this momentous crisis. "Wow! Watch his smoke, will you!" shrieked Nat. "Now will you be good, Mr. Hobo!" cried Toby; hoping in his heart that the pursuing machine might not take a notion to perform any of its frequent tricks and betray its new master. The man on the stolen wheel must have heard that rattle as of artillery behind him, for Elmer never bothered using the hush pedal, such was his desire to speed up and overtake the thief who was running off with his mount. They saw him look back over his shoulder as if in sudden alarm. Then his legs began to work faster than they could possibly have done in ten years, as he endeavored to pedal his stolen property at a rate of speed that would take him beyond reach of the relentless pursuer. But like a meteor shooting across the sky, Elmer bore down on the hobo motorcycle thief. CHAPTER VIII. TWENTY-SEVEN MILES FROM HICKORY RIDGE AND HOME. "LOOK at the silly guy, will you! Thinks he can run away from a forty-mile-an-hour engine! I like his nerve, now!" exclaimed Nat. "But Elmer's eating up the distance like fun!" cried Toby, dancing up and down in his great excitement. "Think of my old machine behaving so decent, would you! Why, she runs as smooth as grease--better than when she was new! There! He's closing in on him now like hot cakes. Watch what happens, Nat!" They stood there in the road, with their eyes glued on the little comedy that was happening not a great distance away. The tramp knew from the loudness of those rapid-fire explosions that the speeding motorcycle must be rapidly overhauling him. No need to turn his head any longer to size up the situation, which in his mind was becoming acute. "He's going to skip out!" shrieked Nat, suddenly. "Sure thing!" echoed Toby. "Look at him dragging his big trilbies along the road to slow up. Hope he don't run slap into a tree though, and bust things higher'n a kite!" "There he goes! Hoopla!" shouted Nat.