"And we've come to a conclusion, Lil Artha," went on the other, as though he was not to be moved by any thrusts from the tongue of the contestant. "All right. Glad you've come to something. Hurry up and spit it out, and then give me a clear road, won't you?" the one who was being held up remarked, sharply. "The honor of good old Hickory Ridge is at stake," continued the unknown, in a solemn tone that suggested graveyards and all that sort of thing, Chatz Maxfield would have declared. "Sure it is, and if you don't let up on this business it'll go aglimmering. I want to walk, I tell you," declared Lil Artha. "Hold on, now. Easy, Lil Artha. We represent a committee of the Hickory Ridge boys, and have been sent out to make dead sure that you win this big hike; d'ye get on to that, now?" "Well, it sounds all right, but for the life of me I can't place you among all the fellows I know," returned Lil Artha, suspiciously. "Never mind about that; it don't cut any figure in the matter at all. Fact is, none of us want you to know us. Then you won't be able to give the game away." "Game? What's that mean?" demanded the other. "Open up here, and show your hand, won't you?" "We want to help you on your weary way, Lil Artha." "With cheery words and all that?" queried the one addressed, with something of a sneer showing in his tone. "Shucks! Something that counts better than cheery words. We've got a bully old car right here, Lil Artha. You can see it if you look." "Well, I see it all right," returned the Hickory Ridge scout; "but what's that got to do with a fellow that's on a long walk, and anxious to get to the end of his journey, tell me that?" "Huh, a heap, Lil Artha; and you must be silly not to see through a grindstone that's got such a big hole in it. What's a car made for, anyway?" demanded the leader of the ambushing party, while his comrades laughed harshly. "Look here, what're you hinting at?" asked Lil Artha. "You don't want me to get in there with you, I hope?" "Plenty of room for six, and there's only four along, Lil Artha." "But I don't need any help that way," protested the tall boy, angrily. "I tell you I'm good for hours of hard grind yet. Not one chance in sixty of me losing out to that Felix Wagner. I don't care what sort of a hustle he's got on him. Just you clear the track, and watch my smoke, that's all." "But we fellows of Hickory Ridge don't want to take the chances. Here's a bully opening for you to be carried along five miles in as many minutes. Then we'll set you down, and you can finish the hike into Little Falls as fresh as a daisy. You'll do it, Lil Artha, of course you will?" "Of course I won't, and you hear me warble at that!" roared the tall boy, furiously. "What's more, I don't believe a single one of you live in Hickory Ridge. Just let me strike a match and have a look at your faces. Then perhaps I'll believe you mean honest, even if I can't take up your offer."