"Good! Then the game is ours, barring accidents!"

The three fellows ahead kept turning around every dozen seconds, as if
worried at the rapid approach of the others.

"Keep your eyes peeled; they're hatching up some sort of mischief!"
called Frank, who knew the signs.

He saw that the others began to wobble in their movements, which was
plain evidence that they had tired themselves out by their night tramp,
and were in no condition to compete with the motorcycles, even on this
rough stretch of road.

The tall, athletic-looking leader of the trio suddenly jumped aside, and
stooped over as if snatching something from the ground.

"'Ware, hawks!" shouted Bluff, who had noted this maneuver.

It could now be easily seen that Pet Peters had fastened upon quite a
cumbersome branch of a fallen tree, and his purpose was manifest when he
stepped out as if to drop it across the road, meaning to wreck the
machines as they swept on.

Frank changed his course just a trifle, but was now heading straight for
the unprincipled schemer, who would have taken the chances of seriously
injuring some of the party in order to further his own plans.

The sight of that heavy motor-cycle heading straight at him rather
demoralized Pet, who did not know but that Frank meant to chase him until
he got him; so that he dropped the branch before he had quite covered the