"But perhaps there won't be any more, from my machine anyhow, Elmer. She's going like a greased pig. That shake-up must have been just what the old buster needed." Toby bawled, knowing to what the other referred when he mentioned hold-ups. Nat was trailing along in the rear, but coming apparently with no sign of another balk; although doubtless he lived in perpetual fear of something new springing a surprise on him. A motorcycle, once it gets to acting queer, can establish a reputation for opening up new avenues of trouble second to none. "Hey, look ahead!" called Toby, presently, after they had covered another long distance of quite a number of miles. Elmer, upon doing so, discovered that a couple of fellows occupied the middle of the road, and seemed to act as though they meant to stay there, no matter what came along. As the motorcycle squad rushed toward them, Elmer had no great difficulty in recognizing Landy's cousin, George Robbins, and one of the Fairfield crowd, Angus McDowd. They had their arms locked, and seemed on the best of terms with the world in general, though their steps had a tottery look, as Nat expressed it. Finding themselves left far in the rear, these two had apparently made up their minds not to bother about who won the great hike; but to stick to each other, and take things as easy as they could. Hearing the sputtering of the several machines, they looked back and waved their hands, evidently recognizing Elmer in the lead. Then they stepped to one side of the road so as to let the procession pass. Elmer threw out his hand so as to warn Toby to slow up, as he meant to do that same, and did not wish to take the chances of being run down. "How far are we from home?" shouted both the walkers, as Elmer came close. "About twenty miles," he replied, for he had anticipated such a question, and prepared himself to meet it promptly. "Is that all?" called Angus McDowd, who looked pretty much "all in." "What's the news; who's ahead, Elmer?" called George, as the motorcycle passed. "Lil Artha at last accounts, by a long lead!" "Bully for Lil Artha!" both trampers shouted; for Angus was so tired himself that he really cared very little who won. "How far ahead of us, hey?" shouted George. "Only about thirteen miles, George," answered Toby as he flitted past with a fresh start. "Oh, won't poor old Landy feel sore when he hears how the hope of the Philander Smiths has gone aglimmering!" mocked Nat, as he, too, went by. George made a quick motion with his hand as though throwing something at his tormentor; then his care-free laugh floated after them. About three miles farther along the road they discovered another sight. "What's going on there?" shouted Toby, who again hung rather dangerously close in the rear of the leader, because he wanted a chance to exchange remarks from time to time. "Looks like a breakdown, and that's a fact," Elmer replied.