"That'll be Dick, then," said Harry, greatly relieved. "All right
-- I'll go ahead!"

He went on then, and soon he, too, saw Dick busy with the
motorcycle.

"Won't he be glad to see me, though?" he thought. "Poor old Dick!
I'll bet he's had a hard time."

Then he called, softly. And Dick turned. But -- it was not Dick.
It was Ernest Graves!




CHAPTER IX


AN UNEXPECTED BLOW!


For a moment it would have been hard to lay which of them was more
completely staggered and amazed.

"What are you doing here?" Harry gasped, finally.

And then, all at once, it came over him that it did not matter
what Ernest answered, that there could be no reasonable and good
explanation for what he had caught Graves doing.