And as Elmer whirled around the curve he looked eagerly ahead. At first he saw nothing save a long stretch of road that seemed to mellow as it dropped a little in the distance. Was it possible that Lil Artha could have passed beyond the extreme limit of observation? If so, then the deduction he had made as to the length of time elapsing since that footprint was made could not have been the true one. Ah, what was that moving there under the trees about half a mile ahead, and just before the road took its slight downward pitch? Surely he had seen something rise and fall with regularity; and it could hardly be a branch. The object caught his eye again. It was red, and Elmer suddenly remembered that Lil Artha always made it a point to carry a couple of big red bandana handkerchiefs along with him when about to indulge in any game, whether baseball, football or a fishing excursion that entailed a long walk. Yes, surely that must be their comrade, who, hearing the familiar explosion of the motorcycle engines, and possibly guessing that some of the Hickory Ridge boys were following on his trail, had stepped aside to let them pass. And that waving of the red flag was not intended as a signal of warning, but simply Lil Artha's method of greeting his mates as they flew by. He could see the tall figure plainly now, and even note how he carried his khaki jacket over his left arm, as the evening was anything but cool. And Elmer felt a thrill of satisfaction as he realized that after all their troubles on the way they had finally come to the point where they were about to join forces with the gallant fellow who was on his thirty-sixth mile and still set upon arriving at Little Falls long before dawn closed the contest. Lil Artha stood at attention. He had recognized in the leading figure the assistant scout master of the troop, and, like a good scout, believed in paying him the respect due his office. Under ordinary circumstances they were chums and ready to indulge in any sort of rough-and-tumble boyish wrestle, but when on duty it must always be a different thing. So, as his hand came up in the regular scout salute, Lil Artha was surprised to see that the other was bringing his motorcycle to a slow down, as were also those in the rear, whom he now recognized as Toby and Nat. Apparently, then, they intended to stop and speak with him, perhaps with the idea of giving him fresh courage to plod along over the ten miles or so that still remained between himself and his destination. Nothing averse to having a little chat with his chums as he walked along, the tall scout stepped out from under the overshadowing branches of the tree. "Hello, fellows!" he remarked. "Say, this is mighty nice in you, hunting me up just to say howdy and wish me luck. What's the news back along the line?" "All pins down in this alley but one other besides you, Lil Artha," said Toby, quickly.