off, the motors soon popping merrily as the boys entered into the spirit
of the occasion.

The air was fresh as they sped along the dusty road. The leader was ever
ready to signal a slow-down in case they met a farmer with a load of
hay, going to market, or any other vehicle. This was rendered necessary
because the cloud of dust might blind the eyes of those who came after,
and a collision be the result.

In this fashion they arrived at the lumber camp, which was deserted at
this time of year. From there on the pace had to be slowed down, for the
road was only used by logging teams, and hardly suitable for
motorcycles.

They were plugging along, each keeping his eyes open for obstacles apt
to present themselves, such as roots cropping up above the surface, when
the leader gave a sudden toot upon the little horn attached to his
machine that warned the others a stop was imperative.




CHAPTER II

THE MOTORCYCLE THIEVES


"What's gone wrong, Frank?" demanded Bluff, dropping off his seat.

"In luck again, for I'd have banged up against that big root if Frank