The Motor Boys

Dear Boys:

Here's a brand-new line of stories for you, to be issued under the general title of "The Motor Boys Series."

The motor-cycle of to-day is fast taking the place of the ordinary bicycle, and the automobile, or auto, as it is commonly called, is taking the place of our horses. This being so, it has occurred to the writer to prepare a line of stories, telling of the doings of a number of lively, up-to-date lads who at first own motor-cycles and later on become the proud possessors of a touring car.

This tale before you, "The Motor Boys," is the first volume of the series, telling of the doings of Ned, Bob, Terry and their chums in and around their home town. Some stirring races are mentioned, and also the wicked plots of some enemies to bring our heroes to grief. At the races some fine prizes were put up, and Ned, Bob and Jerry did their best to carry off the honors. In the meantime there was a mysterious robbery of a mill, and what the lads did to solve this riddle I leave to the chapters, which follow, to relate.

This story of "The Motor Boys" will be followed by a second volume, to be called "The Motor Boys Overland," and then by a third, "The Motor Boys in Mexico." I hope these volumes will please my boy readers.

CLARENCE YOUNG.

January 9, 1906.

CHAPTER I.

AN ENCOUNTER ON BICYCLES.

"Hi, Ned! What do you say to a little race?"

"I'm ready," called Ned Slade.

"How about you, Jerry?"

"Oh, I'm always ready," answered Jerry Hopkins, tossing aside the core of an apple he had been eating. "But how far is the race to be, Chunky?"

"To the oak tree," replied Bob Baker.

"Suits me," said Jerry. "All aboard!"

The three bicyclists rose from the grass where they had been resting in the shade of a big maple tree, after a trip of about five miles on their bicycles around the country outside of the village of Cresville, where they lived. Cresville was a pleasant town, not a great many miles from Boston.

The three boys were chums, and had been ever since they had started to school together, eight years previous. There was Bob, the son of Andrew Baker, who was counted one of the wealthiest men in Cresville. His interests were varied, but were mainly in banks and banking institutions. Besides Bob there was in the family a daughter Susie. Bob was fourteen years old, and Susie two years younger, and Bob was so much inclined to stoutness that he was sometimes called "Chunky" by his chums.

Ned was the only child of Aaron Slade, owner of the largest department store in the town, and a well-off merchant. As for Jerry he lived with his widowed mother, and his sister Julia Hopkins, a girl whom it would do your heart good to know, she was so jolly and full of fun. The death of Mr. Hopkins, a few years previous, had left his widow with an ample income, which she devoted to the bringing up of her children. Jerry and Ned were the same age, fifteen years.

All three boys were sturdy chaps, full of life and energy. They had studied, played and fought together so long that they had come to be regarded as three inseparables by the townspeople.

"Now are you fellows ready for the word?" asked Bob, steadying his wheel in a line with the other two.

"Let her go!" called Jerry.

"Sing out, Chunky!" shouted Ned.

There was a moment of suspense, and a momentary thrill over even so slight a thing as this little sprint among the three boys. Each one meant to win.

"Go!" yelled Bob.

In an instant the wheels were started off. Three boys bounded into three saddles. Three pairs of feet began to pump the pedals desperately. A cloud of dust arose and the race was on.

It was a distance of half a mile from the maple tree, where the start was made, to the oak which Bob had designated as the winning post. The road was a good hard level stretch of macadam and the wheels fairly spun along it.

At first the boys were on even terms. Then Bob gradually drew away from Ned and Jerry. Seeing this Ned put an extra ounce or two into his pushing and he soon caught up to Bob. These two held the lead on almost a line for a few hundred feet.

Suddenly there was a whirr of wheels behind them, an excited joyous shout and, with a yell, Jerry whizzed past, and obtained such a good advantage that he kept it, until he reached the oak, where he leaped off, and cast himself down in the shade to rest.

"I didn't think you could do it, Jerry," panted Ned, as he and Bob flashed up two seconds later. "Honest, I didn't."

"Nor I," came from Bob. "You must have been practicing lately."

"Well, I thought I ought to try and improve my wheel-work," said Jerry modestly. "I'm thinking of going in the club races that will be held soon, and I wanted to stand some sort of a show."

"I'd say you stood a pretty good one, if you ride like you did to-day," interposed Ned. "You went past us flying, and Bob and I weren't going so slow, either; were we, Bob?"

"Not exactly."

For a few minutes the boys lolled lazily in the grass, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. Then Bob took three apples from his pocket and treated.

"Do you fellows know what I wish?" began Jerry, who had finished his light lunch first. "I wish we all had motor-cycles."

"It wouldn't be a half-bad idea," agreed Bob, after a little thought. "I'm beginning to get a little tired of this leg-work, myself. How about you, Ned?"

"I think I could use a motor-cycle if one came my way," replied Ned. "That is after I learned how to operate one, and wouldn't blow myself and the immediate neighborhood up with gasolene."

"They're easy to run," affirmed Jerry. " and no more dangerous than a horse. The catalogue I have says so."

"That reminds me, are you two going in the bicycle races?" asked Jerry. "You know there are going to be some fine prizes."

"You mean the Cresville Athletic Club races?" asked Ned.

"Yes," replied Jerry.

"I hadn't thought much of it," said Bob. "I heard about 'em, but it takes a lot of time to train, and you have to almost starve yourself."

"How about you, Ned?"

"Well, if you and Bob go in for it, Jerry, I s'pose I might as well too. Tell us what you know about the races."

Jerry related what he had heard about the plans of the athletic club to hold an out-door meet on their grounds three weeks hence. As he had said, several valuable prizes were to be awarded, and there were many classes of handicap contests, so that the boys would have plenty of chances to enter, and stand a good show of winning one or more of the trophies.

"It sounds good," said Ned at length.

"I'm going to enter, and begin training at once," decided Chunky.

"Same here, then," came from Ned. "Have you entered yet, Jerry?"

"No, but I've begun to train some. There's plenty of time to send in your name if you want to enter. The lists are open until five days before the races."

"All right, then it's settled," exclaimed Ned, slowly rising from his comfortable berth in the grass.

The three boys mounted their wheels and started slowly homeward. They took their time, keeping close together and talking now of the coming races and again of the prospects of owning motor-cycles. At the top of a long, gentle sloping hill, that led down, almost to the centre of the town, the boys put their feet on the coasters and let their wheels glide down by gravity. Soon they were going at a rapid rate, with Ned slightly in the lead.

At the foot of the hill another road crossed at right angles. By reason of a turn to this second road, and a clump of trees, any one passing along it could not be seen until he was nearly in the middle of the hill road.

Suddenly there shot from behind the clump of trees lining the cross-road, a figure on a wheel.

"Look out!" yelled Bob and Jerry.

Ned looked up and saw, but was too late. He could not check his speed, and the only thing to do was to turn to one side, and try to avoid the other rider. Unfortunately the other rider, also seeing the danger, took the same turn as had Ned.

"There's going to be a smash!" called Jerry in excited tones.

The shock threw Ned and the other cyclist from their wheels into the dusty road. The bicycles went in one direction and the riders in another. Both boys were lying still on the highway when Bob and Jerry came running up.

"Are they killed?" asked Jerry in a trembling voice.

"No, only stunned, I guess," answered Bob, feeling of Ned's heart, and finding it beating. "Let's see who the other fellow is."

He turned the boy who had collided with Ned over.

"Noddy Nixon?" he said. "He'll be sure to say this was Ned's fault, and it may make trouble. I wish Ned had put on his brake."

Ned sat up and opened his eyes. A few seconds later Noddy Nixon did likewise.

"What happened?" gasped Ned, rubbing the dust from his eyes.

"You had a little spill, that's all," answered Bob.

"A little spill? I should say we did," snarled Noddy, who was larger and stronger than any of the three chums, and older, being about eighteen. "A nasty little spill it was, too. And all your fault, Ned Slade! Why didn't you look where you were going?"

"Why didn't you look?" asked Ned, hotly. "I turned out to avoid you, and if you'd been paying attention you wouldn't have steered right into me. It's as much your fault as it is mine."

"My leg's broke," came from Noddy. "You'll suffer for this!"

"Get up and let's see if it's broken," urged Bob, taking hold of Noddy's shoulder.

"Oh! Ouch!" screamed Noddy, who though he was strong and a bully was also a great coward in pain. "My shoulder's broken, too. I'll sue you for this, Ned Slade, after I get well, and I'll lick you, too."

"Oh, dry up," muttered Ned, who was painfully limping toward his wheel.

When Noddy came to move he discovered that he was not as badly hurt as he had foolishly imagined. He got on his feet, brushed the dirt from his clothes, and found that he could walk all right. But he scowled darkly when he saw Bob grinning at him.

"You're more scared than hurt," said Bob.

"Look here, you impudent little snob!" burst out Noddy, limping over toward the boy who was still smiling. "Don't give me any of your lip. I won't stand it. I'll knock your head off!"

"Better not try," advised Bob quietly, the smile leaving his face. "Two can play at that game."

"Yes, and so can we all of us," broke in Jerry, who was something of a boxer. "We're sorry for what happened, Nixon," he went on. "but you needn't rub it in."

"Oh, shut-up!" cried Noddy, turning away, and picking up his wheel. "I'll get even with you for this, though," he muttered.

"Two of my spokes are broken," he went on, after an examination of his bicycle. "You'll have to pay for them, Ned Slade."

"So are two of mine, and my handle bars are bent," retorted Ned. "I guess we'll call it even, Noddy. I won't charge you for straightening the handles," and he laughed in spite of the pain of his bruises.

"You -- you!" began Noddy, but rage seemed to choke him, and with scowling face he mounted his wheel and rode slowly away. "You just wait!" he shouted back, shaking his head at the three boys.

CHAPTER II.

A MEAN PLOT.

"WELL," began Bob, when the three chums were ready to proceed on their way, Ned having been brushed off. "I'd like to have Noddy for a close friend, I don't think! Wonder what makes him so mean?"

"Born so, I s'pose," grunted Ned. "Any one else would have laughed over such an accident. He seemed to think I did it on purpose."

"He talks as though he did," ventured Jerry. "I wonder what he'll do to get square?"

"Oh something sneaking, you may depend on it," replied Bob. "That's the way with Noddy and his kind. He's nothing but a big bully. Never fights with any one but some one he's sure he can whip. I don't know's I could lick him, but I'd like to try once."

"Me too," said Ned, "after I get over being stiff."

When Jack Pender, who was a toady of Noddy Nixon, called on the latter in a sort of club-house in Nixon's yard that night, he found the bully in no amiable frame of mind.

"What's the matter?" asked Jack.

"None of your business," snapped Nixon, lighting a cigarette.

"You needn't be so cross," whined Jack, who was used to rather shabby treatment from the bully, to whom he toadied in the hope of favors.

"I guess you'd be cross if you had the tumble I did to-day," growled Noddy.

"Somebody knock you down?" asked Pender, incautiously.

"Somebody knock me down? I'd like to see 'em try it," boasted Noddy. "No. I was out taking a spin, and that young cub of a Ned Slade tried to upset me. I got even with him, though," added Noddy, to whom telling the truth did not come natural. "I gave his wheel a twist and sent him flying. I guess he won't forget his fall in a hurry. He got worse than I did," which was not so, though Jack did not know it.

"Serves him good and right," chuckled the toady. "I can't bear Ned. He's too uppish. Thinks because his father has a little money he's better than the rest of us. And I haven't any use for his chums, Bob and Jerry."

"Same here," Agreed Noddy, lighting another cigarette. "But I'll get even with 'em. My father has as much money as any of their fathers has. They needn't think they can down me."

"Bully for you," cried Jack, hoping to curry favor. "I'd like a chance to get even too."

"Maybe it will come before you think it will."

"What do you mean?" asked Jack in a whisper.

"Never mind," replied Noddy. "I'll tell you when the time comes."

For some time the two cronies sat and talked in the structure, which Noddy had fixed up as a resort where he might smoke cigarettes, a practice his father had forbidden him.

"Going in the club races?" asked Jack at length. "I hear there will be some fine prizes, and a little chance to make money."

"You mean on the winners?"

"Sure. I got the tips straight from one of the trainers. There'll be a pretty penny in it for us."

"It's worth looking into," decided Noddy. "But about my racing. I hadn't thought of that. I suppose I could go in."

After some further talk both Jack and Noddy decided they would enter their names for several events in the bicycle class. When they parted that night they agreed to meet the next evening to discuss details.

Not long after dusk the following night Jack and Noddy were in close consultation in "the coop."

"I hear Ned, Bob and Jerry are going to enter the races," said Jack, after a short conversation.

"Why, you're not afraid of them, are you?" asked Jack.

"I know I can beat either Ned, Bob or Jerry. The only thing is I'm not in good training and I can't spare the time. I'm faster than either of them for a short sprint," which he was. "But in a long race they might down me."

Jack did not think it wise to comment on the bully's change of ideas.

"If the races were hundred-yard dashes I wouldn't worry a bit," said Noddy. "I could win hands down. But the best race is for three miles, and that -- that's rather a long distance for me. If we could fix things --"

"How fix?" inquired Jack.

"Well," proceeded Noddy boldly. "I mean to win that race. There's a first prize, worth three hundred dollars, and I want it. I'm going to get it. That's all. If I can't win by fair means --"

"I see," whispered Jack softly.

"I'm glad you do," retorted Noddy, lighting a cigarette. "I may need your help. We must beat them, Jack. I hate them!"

Thereupon the two cronies resumed their whisperings, talking in low tones, for they were fearful of being overheard in their plotting.

Within the next few days arrangements for the races of the athletic club went rapidly on. Bob, Ned and Jerry entered their names, Ned finding that he had no permanent lameness from his "spill." Noddy and Jack also had their names entered. Then all the boys, including many others who had decided to try for the prizes, began training.

There were several events on the race card. There were ten and five mile races, but none of the boys thought of trying for them. There were also short distance trys for girls, and also a three mile race, for boys and young men between fourteen and nineteen years of age. The first prize was a three hundred dollar piano, or any other article of that value, and the second and third prizes were of one hundred and fifty and one hundred dollars value respectively. Of course each of our heroes hoped to win big prizes, and there was a keen but friendly rivalry among them.

CHAPTER III.

A DAY OF THE RACES.

At last came the day for the races. It was early in July, and the weather though warm, was not oppressive. Early in the morning a big crowd started out toward the grounds of the Cresville Athletic Club, which were about a mile outside of the town proper.

Ned, Bob and Jerry reached the track about ten o'clock, and found it pretty well occupied.

"It will give us good practice in wheeling in a crowd," observed Jerry as he stripped off his sweater and, in regular racing costume, began to make the circuits.

His two friends soon followed his example. A little later Noddy and Jack arrived. The two cronies kept to themselves and spoke no word to our three heroes.

About noon-time there was a general stopping and all the contestants who were warming up went to get something to eat. Under Jerry's advice Ned and Bob ate and drank sparingly.

The races were to begin at two o'clock. Long before that hour most of the best seats were filled, and there was a crowd on the way to the athletic grounds that would tax the capacity of the bleachers.

About half-past one o'clock a rather gaunt individual might have been seen making his way toward the athletic grounds. He wore a pair of patched trousers and a green coat, with a red patch on either elbow.

"Hi there?" called some boys. "Look at the hobo going to enter the races."

"Oh, I may be a hobo, but I'm not a dodo, put that in your pipe and smoke it till night. That ain't a good rhyme, but it'll do this time," recited the man in a sing-song tone.

"Ha! Ha! Isn't he funny!" laughed some small boys.

Hearing the sound of laughter Ned, Bob and Jerry, who were walking together in the fields, a short distance away from the athletic grounds, came over.

"Why it's Old Pete!" cried Bob. "Hello Pete! I say, Old Pete Bumps!" he called, waving his hand to the man with a green coat and a red patch on either elbow.

"Oh, I say, is that you, why how do you do?" said Mr., otherwise Old Pete Bumps, who was a general man of all work about Mr. Baker's place. He did everything from feeding the chickens to taking out the ashes.

"Hello Pete!" called Jerry and Ned in chorus. "What did you come for? Are you going to race?"

"Am I going to race? Well not in this place," replied Pete gravely. "I came to watch over you boys. Be a sort of general overseer as it were. Look after the wheels and see that they get full meals," he added without a smile.

From which it may be inferred that Mr. Bumps was something of a character.

Indeed at one time he had been a well educated man. But an injury to his head, caused by a fall, and a number of misfortunes, had displaced him from a life of comparative wealth, and had made him a sort of foolish, though very loving, elderly man. Mr. Baker had taken pity on him and made a place for him, for which poor Old Pete Bumps, as he called himself, was very grateful. He was very fond of children, especially boys, and was always looking after the interests of Bob and his chums.

"Now Pete can look after our wheels," said Bob. "I was wondering who we could leave in charge between the heats, and while we were dressing. He'll be the very one."

"Surely will I, e'en though I die," said Pete gravely, for he had a habit of making extemporaneous rhymes on all occasions, which jingles sometimes fitted and sometimes did not.

"All right, Pete," said Bob. "Come on over here," and he led the hired man to where the boys had left their three wheels in charge of a lad of their acquaintance, who had agreed to stand guard at the rate of five cents a half hour. Pete gravely squatted down on the grass near the bicycles.

Relieved of the responsibility of guarding their mounts, the trio of lads wandered about the grounds of the club. There was much bustle and excitement. New riders were constantly arriving and going out on the track to warm up. Hundreds of spectators were coming afoot, or in carriages or automobiles. Flags waved gaily in the wind, and the whole scene was a spirited one. A bevy of girls coming up the road that led to the entrance of the grounds attracted the attention of our three heroes.

"Looks like my sister Susie with that red dress on," said Bob.

"And that seems to be Julia, in that green hat," observed Jerry. "Yes, that's her," he went on. "I can tell by her laugh," he added, as a merry, peal floated over the green field.

"Who are the girls with them?" asked Ned, who had no sisters, but who was as fond of girls as they were of him.

"There's Mollie Horton, who lives near me," said Ned. "She's jolly enough. And Alice Vines. I don't know who the other one is."

"That's Helen Gale," put in Bob. "I know her. She made that silk flag with our foot-ball colors on last year for me."

"Good for her!" exclaimed Ned.

The girls soon came up, and there was merry talk for a little while. The boys wanted to take the girls over and buy some ice-cream sodas.

"We haven't time," objected Julia. "We want to get our seats before the races begin. We don't want to miss a one."

"You won't miss anything," assured Ned.

"Oh but we might," interposed Alice. "And it is not every day we can come to such a big event as this. If you boys want to get the sodas afterward --"

"Of course we will," broke in Jerry. And so they agreed to treat the girls after the races.

Not long after Pete had been left in charge of the cycles a man, wearing a slouch hat, who had been but a few minutes before in close consultation with Jack Pender, shuffled up to where Pete was Lying in the grass.

"Arternoon, mate," said the roughly dressed man in a growling voice.

"How do you do, I'm glad to see you," replied Pete, in his sweetest tones.

"What yer givin' us?" demanded the stranger.

"Me? I gave you nothing, sir," replied Pete.

"Come off your high perch then, an' talk United States," went on the stranger gruffly. "My name's Bill Berry, what's yours?"

"My name's Pete Bumps, I'm full of humps," recited Pete gravely.

"You look it," commented Bill Berry. "But I say, mate," he went on. "how would you like to go off and get a good smoke? Come, I'll pay for it?"

"I'd like it first rate, but I must stay here quite late," said Pete.

"Why so? Oh, I don't know," mocked Bill, falling into the eccentric mood of his companion.

"To guard the wheels against the steals," replied Pete.

"Don't let that worry you," went on Bill, eagerly. "I'll stay here. You go get yourself something to smoke, and take your time. I'll stand guard while you're away."

If there was one thing more than another that Old Pete liked, it was to smoke. Usually he had to forego this pleasure because of lack of funds. Now here was a chance to indulge. So, after receiving twenty-five cents from Bill Berry, Pete started over to the grand stand, near which was a booth where cigars and refreshments were sold.

Bill looked narrowly about as soon as Pete was out of sight. There were plenty of people around him, but no one seemed to be noticing what he was doing. Quickly Bill pulled a wrench from his pocket and used it on each of the three bicycles. Then he brought out a stick of something black.

"This graphite is well doctored," he muttered. "I guess it won't be healthy for the chains."

He rubbed a liberal supply on the chain of each wheel, and also on the sprockets. Then he rapidly opened the tool bags on each machine, took out the graphite he found there, and substituted some of his own.

" I guess that will do the trick," he said softly. " And I guess I've earned my two dollars, Jack Pender."

He hurried off, mingled with the crowd, and a little later was in conversation with Jack Pender.

A little later Pete came hurrying back. He was smoking a cheap cigar, and his pockets bulged with others.

"Here you go, Bill, now smoke with a will," began Pete, when he drew near where he had left his new friend in charge of the boys' bicycles. " Why, he's gone," he went on, seeing the deserted mounts. " Wonder where he went?" However, he did not give much thought to it, and went on smoking happily.

"Wheels all right?" asked Ned a few minutes after, as he, Jerry and Bob came up.

"Right as a fiddle, come high-diddle," recited Pete.

"Hark! What's that?" asked Chunky suddenly? "Sounds like an announcement."

The three boys ran nearer the grand stand where the official announcer stood. The man was using a small megaphone and went on to say that there had been a slight change in the program, and that the race for those who had never been in a contest before would be the first number instead of the third.

"Great Scott, Chunky! That'll mean you'll have to hustle for all you're worth!" cried Jerry? "Here, get your wheel out, strip off your sweater and get around to the track entrance and have your number pinned on."

Jerry grabbed up his chum's wheel, while Ned assisted the lad in pulling his sweater over his head. Then, cautioning Pete to keep a strict look-out, the three boys ran with Bob to the track entrance.

They were only just in time, and found a lot of other contestants ahead of them. Bob received his number, and then, for the first time, thought of his wheel.

"Just spin it for me, to see if it don't need a drop more of oil," Bob asked Jerry. "My hands shake so I can't undo the tool bag."

Obligingly Jerry spun the wheels. The rubber-tired circle went around swiftly for several turns, and then came a sudden slowing down.

"That's funny," remarked Bob? "I had that all adjusted this noon."

Jerry bent down and looked at the bearings.

"The cones have been tightened," he announced? "Why I can feel the friction," and he moved the front wheel slowly with his hands.

"Try the back wheel!" urged Ned.

Holding that clear of the ground Jerry spun it by placing his foot on the pedal. There was a woeful squeak, and, after a few revolutions that wheel, too, slowed down. Jerry rubbed his finger over the sprocket chain. It came away black from the graphite, but mingled with the blackness were many shining specks.

Just then there came the crack of a revolver.

"That means three minutes to the start," cried Bob. "What will I do? I can't fix the wheel in that time!"

"Some one's put iron filings in the graphite," announced Jerry, rubbing the stuff between his fingers?. "There's trickery here!"

"And I'll lose the race!" cried Bob. "I know I have a good chance of winning!"

"Let me get my wheel!" exclaimed Ned.

"It wouldn't do any good," interposed Jerry. "We haven't time to run after them. Besides, the chances are our wheels are doctored too."

"All ready, boys!" warned the starter. "Minute and a half more before the final gun!"

"I might as well quit," cried Bob.

"Don't you do it!" said some one suddenly at his side. "Here, you take my wheel. It's a racer, and I've just oiled it." As he spoke a boy, of about thirteen years, who had a slight acquaintance with our three heroes, shoved a handsome new wheel over toward Bob.

"Oh, thank you, Sam Morton," said Bo. "But don't you want it yourself?"

"Not a bit," said Sam. "I'm not going to race. Take the wheel."

"All right, I will," assented Bob. "And I'll square things with you afterward, Sam. Some one has doctored mine. I --"

But Bob did not have time to say any more.

"Half a minute!" warned the starter.

"Get on the track!" cried Jerry.

"Line up! Do your best and win!" counseled Ned.

"I will!" shouted back Bob, and the next instant he was lined up with the others, waiting for the pistol shot that would start them off.

"Crack!"

A little puff of smoke, a sliver of flame, and a slight report. Then the whirr of rubber tires on the track sounded like the wind rushing through the trees.

The race, while it was of much interest to the contestants and their friends, was not very important to the general public. It was only a mile sprint and there were ten starters.

Bob's heart beat wildly at first and his wheel wobbled from side to side. Then the fever of fear left him. He saw that he was not being left behind and he picked up courage. He shut his teeth tightly, took a long breath, and let out a burst of speed that carried him to within three of the leader.

There was a cheer at this, which gave him new courage, and he struggled harder and harder. Gradually he passed two of those ahead of him. There now remained but one lad between himself and the lead. He gave one quick glance.

"It's Jack Pender," he thought. "I know he's been in races before. But I'm going to beat him."

Once more Bob clenched his teeth and let out another burst of speed. But he had a good rider to contend against. Jack, looking behind and seeing the boy he hated, redoubled his efforts.

The race was half done. Already several who had no chance had dropped out. The struggle was between Bob and Jack. Bob could hear the band playing, as if it was a mile away. He drew one long breath, threw into his leg muscles another ounce of strength and then, with an effort that surprised even himself he found that he was on even terms with Jack.

"Confound you! What are you trying to do, beat me?" snapped Jack.

"That's what I am."

"Well, you're not going to!"

Jack gave his wheel a sudden turn. His intention was to upset Bob. But the latter was too quick for him.

"Foul! Foul!" cried several who had seen the attempt.

The two passed the post set an eighth of a mile from the finish, neck and neck. Bob could see that Jack was almost winded. As for Bob, though in distress he still had some reserve strength.

Then, with a last final burst of speed, with a frenzied effort that sent the blood singing to his head, Bob passed his rival, and came under the tape a winner by two good lengths.

"Hurrah!" cried thousands.

"Hurrah!" cried Ned and Jerry, though Bob could not hear them.

And Bob, almost tumbling from his wheel, felt happier than he ever had in his life before. He had won the race.

He could see Jack Pender scowling at him, but he did not mind that.

"I didn't know you were an amateur, Jack," Bob heard one of the toady's friends address him.

"I'm not any more," laughed Jack. "That was my last amateur race. I'm going in with the professionals on the next race, and I'm going to win."

"You are if we let you," was the response.

CHAPTER IV.

THE THREE MILE RACE.

As soon as Ned and Jerry had congratulated Bob, which they did with glad hearts, they hurried from where they had watched him winning the race, to the place where Old Pete had been left in charge of the wheels.

"The chances are we'll find them doctored," said Jerry. "Only we'll have an opportunity to fix them before our race, if they aren't too badly tampered with."

Bob returned the wheel he had won on to its owner, Sam Morton, and offered to share the prize with him, but Sam would not hear of it.

"I was only too glad to help you out," he said. You ought to make a complaint to the officers of the club about your wheel."

"Wait until I find out who monkeyed with it," said Bob, "and I'll take care of him without any complaint," and he doubled up his fist suggestively.

The three chums, Bob carrying his own disabled wheel, hurried to where Pete was. They found that worthy consuming his third cheap cigar, evidently in great enjoyment.

Jerry and Ned made a hasty examination of their bicycles, and quickly discovered something wrong with each.

"The same scoundrel that tampered with Bob's was at ours," said Ned. "Bearings tightened and steel filings in the graphite. Who was it, I wonder?"

"Say, Pete," began Bob, "did any one touch our wheels while we were away?"

"Not a one, my dear son," recited Pete with a wise air.

"Here Pete, you drop that poetry and attend to business," said Bob, somewhat sternly. "Were you here every minute since we left?"

"I went over to get some cigars."

"And who stayed with the wheels while you were away?"

"Friend of mine. Bill Berry, fat as a cherry," replied Pete, unable to resist the temptation to make a rhyme.

"Look here --" started in Bob, fiercely. "I'll have to --"

"That explains it," broke in Jerry.

"Explains what?" asked Bob.

"Explains who had a hand in this," went on Jerry. "You know Bill, who isn't any too good a character about town, and Jack Pender have been quite thick of late. Two or three times I've caught them whispering together down to the post office."

"Well, what of it?"

"This much. You know what a sneak Jack is, always toadying around that bully Nixon. Well, Nixon threatened to get even with all of us on account of that little spill he and Ned had. This is how he's done it. He's got Jack to do his dirty work, and Jack has hired Bill to doctor our wheels.

"While we were away Bill comes over here, bribes poor old Pete with the offer of something to smoke to leave him in charge for a little while, and does the trick. Didn't Bill give you something to smoke?" demanded Jerry.

"He give me the money, now ain't that funny," sang Pete, without a thought of the consequences of his act.

"That's just it," agreed Ned and Bob, and they complimented Jerry on his shrewdness.

"Oh, that was easy enough to figure out," said the lad. "The question is, can we get our wheels in shape for the race? We've got about half an hour."

The boys lost no more time in idle regrets. Tool bags were opened, and with wrenches and screw drivers the three set to work adjusting the bearings properly. Though this was a somewhat delicate task they succeeded in about ten minutes.

"Now to clean the chains," said Bob. "That graphite must all come off."

"Kerosene oil is the best," suggested Jerry. "Hurrah!" he shouted. "This will do!" and he set off on the run.

In a few seconds he reached a lantern that was fastened on a pole, and used, at night, to illuminate the driveway to the club-house. "This is just what we needed," he said. "We'll borrow a little kerosene from the lamp."

The tin reservoir held more than was needed, and in another minute each boy was busy cleaning his chain.

"Now to put some fresh graphite on, and we'll be in good shape," cried Ned, in high glee over the successful outcome of the plan.

Jerry was the first to take his stick of lubricant from his tool bag. As he did so he gave a start. Then he rubbed some of the black material between his thumb and finger.

"I thought so!" he exclaimed.

"Doctored?" inquired Ned and Jerry nodded.

"Iron or steel filings," he said. "Lucky there is plenty of graphite to be had, or we'd be stuck."

It did not take long to borrow from other cyclists some of the stuff, and the chains were soon lubricated. The boys still had five minutes before their race would be called. They spent the time in resting from their hustling labors. They had fixed things just in time.

In the meantime Noddy had been rather busy about the track. He prided himself on being a sport and was seeking some one who would lay wagers with him. He made several on various events, profiting by what Jack Pender said were sure tips.

"I wonder if we can't bet something on this race we're in?" asked Noddy of his toady.

"I don't see why not," assented Jack. "I think you have a good chance of winning, with those three young cubs out."

So Noddy busied himself, putting up what was a large sum even for a youth whose father kept him liberally supplied with pocket money. As a matter of fact Noddy went so deep into the betting that he had to lay considerable of the money on " wind." That is he did not have in his pocket the money he would have to pay if he lost. But then he did not think of losing.

His last wager, laid just before the time of the three mile race, was with Paul Banner. "Polly," the boys called him, for young Banner aspired to be what, a few years ago, was called a dude. He was fond of dressing in the height of fashion, and liked to be thought a sport. He had a small income, did not work, and spent most of his time at the athletic club.

"I'll give you odds of two to one against the favorite in this race," said Noddy to Paul.

"And who's the favorite?" asked Paul.

"Jerry Hopkins," replied Noddy. "Come, what do you say? Two to one he doesn't win."

"You're on. For how much?"

"I'll lay you one hundred dollars to fifty dollars," said Noddy.

"Done," assented Paul, and he made a memorandum of the wager.

At last, after several events had been run off, during which our heroes had been busy undoing the mischief worked to their wheels, the time came for the race that meant so much to them. The announcer gave the word. Ned, Bob and Jerry hastened around to the track entrance. Noddy and Jack, with their wheels, were a few seconds behind them.

"Well, they're on hand, I see," whispered Noddy.

"Yes, they'll start, and that will be about all," replied Jack, with a meaning smile.

For a few minutes there was considerable work getting the dozen riders correctly placed. Finally they were all lined up on the white mark, and the starter raised his revolver.

"Bang!"

Off in the air lazily floated a little puff of smoke. Then the cyclists were off like the wind. My! how they did go!

Noddy Nixon, who, to give him the credit he deserved, was not a bad sprinter, was in the lead. He was pedaling at top speed, for he knew only by acquiring a big lead could he hope to win.

There was an excited shout from the spectators as they saw the start of the race, and realized that the favorite was left in the lurch. But if Jerry was disconcerted, or if either Ned or Bob was, not one of them showed it. After a few seconds Noddy glanced back. He was surprised to see Jerry rather closer to him than he hoped to find him.

"I thought you said the wheels would lag behind," said Noddy to Jack, who was riding furiously beside him.

"They must have discovered the trick and fixed things up," panted Jack.

But there was no time to talk. It was to be a race to the finish.

"I'll fix them, though," muttered Jack, letting up on his speed, which had kept him beside Noddy, and dropping back a little to the rear.

Aside from the three chums, and Noddy and Jack, there was no interest in the race, for the other seven contestants were hopelessly in the rear. Bob and Ned were on even terms, with Jerry somewhat ahead of them.

"Go on, Jerry!" called Ned. "Beat the big bully!"

"Don't either of you fellows drop out!" pleaded Jerry. "Try to win. You've as good a chance as I."

And then Jerry gave his attention to the task before him. It was no light one. However, he, as did the other two boys, felt the bicycles to be in good order in spite of the attempts at foul play. They were all riding well.

Noddy's advantage in age, his better muscular development, gave him a big lead, however, and for the first mile the gap between him and Jerry was scarcely shortened. Jack still hung on to his comrade's rear, ready to play another dastardly trick when opportunity offered.

During the second mile it was plain to all that Noddy was petering out. His head bent lower over the handle bars, and foam, like white cotton, could be seen on his lips.

"I'm almost all in!" he gasped to Jack.

"Keep up a little longer!" entreated Jack. "You'll win! Why, you've got to win!"

And, to save himself in more ways than one, Noddy felt he must succeed. But how to do it was the question. His heart was beating like a trip-hammer, and his head felt as if it would burst.

He tried to develop another burst of sped, but, as he had said, he was "all in." Slowly he felt, rather than saw, Jerry creeping up on him. He knew that Jack was between him and his rival, however, and he hoped something might happen.

The crowd on the bleachers and on the grand stand nearly went wild as they looked at the most exciting race so far that day. The favorite was slowly but surely creeping up on the leader, and crowding him.

"Go on Jerry!" cried hundreds who wanted to see the plucky lad win. "Go on! Go on!"

"Peg away, Noddy!" shouted one or two of the bully's friends, who had, thanks to his tips or those of Jack, put their money up on him. "Keep going!"

But it was no use. The gap between Jerry and Noddy lessened. Ned and Bob were close behind Jerry, and stood excellent chances of being at least third and fourth. But there was Jack to be reckoned with as well as Noddy, and Jerry knew this. He felt he must keep clear of Jack, for he had seen the attempted foul when Bob was racing.

Then, with a wildly beating heart, Jerry decided that the time had come to make his final sprint. He had just started on the last half mile. He grasped the handle bars with a firmer grip, shut his teeth hard and took a long breath. The burst of speed he then let out amazed and delighted the audience. There were wild cheers.

Noddy looked back in despair. He saw that Jerry and Jack were on even terms. Then something happened. The something that Jack had promised to have up his sleeve. With a quick motion he sent his wheel, ever so little over toward Jerry. The act was hardly noticeable on the stand.

"Keep off!" cried Jerry, seeing what Jack had in mind. "Do you want to have an upset?"

"You never mind me!" snarled Jack. "I'll do as I please!"

Again he gave his wheel a twist. He was now riding dangerously close to Jerry. Noddy was barely a length ahead. There was a quarter of a mile to go.

"Keep back, do you hear!" yelled Jerry.

"Keep back yourself!" retorted Jack.

Then Jack deliberately fouled Jerry. He sent his front wheel against that of his rival, intending to cause an upset. But he reckoned without his host. Bob, who had, by a sudden sprint, approached nearer to Jerry than Ned, saw what was up. Without an instant's hesitation Bob sent his wheel crashing full into Jack's from the rear, and, amid a roar of surprise and terror from the spectators, the two boys went down in a heap on the track.

"He's killed. They're killed!" cried scores.

Jerry, with grim determination in his eyes, rode on, never looking back. Noddy cast a frightened glance over his shoulder, and, when he saw what had happened his heart grew faint. He nearly lost control of his wheel. The little swerve he gave it was fatal to him.

Like a flash Jerry dashed in, took the pole, and with a burst of speed, that set the excited spectators into cheer after cheer, Jerry passed Noddy, and won by a good five lengths.

"Jerry wins! The favorite wins!" shrieked the assemblage.

Though Bob was out of the race, by his own act of self-sacrifice in saving Jerry, Ned had managed, by clever riding to escape the spill. He saw his chance when Noddy looked back, and, with a fierce effort passed the bully and came in a good second.

Even the privilege of being third was denied Noddy. He lost control of his wheel before he could cross the finish line, and one of the stragglers in the race, who had been merely hanging on the tail end, sprinted up and came in third, so that, for all their plans, Noddy and his toady came to grief.

There were congratulations after congratulations for Ned and Jerry. The boys blushed almost like girls as they received the praises that sounded in their ears. There was some talk of the spill, but when it was seen that neither Jack nor Bob was hurt there was no further alarm. At first Jack sputtered and threatened to complain that he was deliberately run down.

"Go ahead," said Bob coolly. "I saw what you tried to do to Jerry, and I know something about Bill Berry."

At that Jack and his bully friend sneaked off without a word. They felt that it needed but a few words on the part of the three chums to get them into trouble, and they were glad enough to escape as easily as they did.

"I appreciate what you did, Chunky," said Jerry. "You practically won the race for me, and you had a good chance yourself.

"I hadn't a chance in the world with you in it," replied Bob. "Besides I won my race, so what did I want with another? I just had to run him down to save you. I'm glad I did."

"I won't forget it," exclaimed Jerry, warmly, as he grasped his chum's hand heartily.

And then the three boys, each one of whom had won a valuable prize that day, gathered up their wheels and belongings and prepared to start for home.

CHAPTER V.

A DEMAND FOR MONEY.

Probably there was no more disgusted person at the races that day than Noddy Nixon. He was mad at himself, at Jack, and more than angry at Bob, Ned and Jerry. He felt very bitter in his heart toward them, though it was all his own fault. Another matter that troubled him was the money he had lost on bets.

"I'm in a deep hole," he muttered as he left the athletic grounds, "and how to get out I don't know."

For few of the tips that Jack had given proved good ones, and Noddy had lost in all about two hundred dollars. This was more money than he had possessed in some time, though an indulgent father kept him well supplied.

"Where's my father?" asked Noddy in surly tones as the maid answered his ring at the handsome house on the hill where the Nixon family lived.

"In his study, Mr. Noddy," answered the girl.

"Now to beard the lion in his den," whispered the young man to himself.

In answer to Noddy's knock -- rather a timid, hesitating sort of a knock, and not in keeping with the bully's usual bluster -- Mr. Nixon bade his son enter.

"How are you, Noddy?" asked Mr. Nixon, who was fond of the young man, in spite of his bad manners at times.

"Pretty fair," was the answer.

"Did you go to the races? Of course you must have, to judge by your costume."

"Yes, I went," replied Noddy. "I rode in one, just as a sort of practice. I didn't try to win. I only wanted to get in form. But say, father," he went on rapidly. "I need some money."

"Money!" exclaimed Mr. Nixon, laying aside the book he had been reading, and looking over the tops of his spectacles. "Money? Why do you know how much you have had in the last month?"

"Not so much," replied Noddy.

For answer Mr. Nixon rapidly turned over the pages of a memorandum book. When he came to a certain page he stopped and begin adding up some figures.

"The total, since the middle of last month, when I began keeping the account, to the present time, which is just about four weeks of time, is three hundred and seventy-five dollars," said Mr. Nixon.

"I had no idea it was so much," muttered Noddy.

"And now you want more?"

"I must have about two hundred dollars, father."

"Two hundred dollars! Great Scott, young man I do you think money grows on trees? What do you want with two hundred dollars? Are you going to start in business?"

"I need it to pay a few debts with," murmured Noddy.

"I'm sorry," said Mr. Nixon, closing the book, "but I can't let you have any more money now."

" But father, I simply must have it."

"You'll not get it from me, young man. I'm tired of handing you over money to waste on foolishness."

"Well, I'm going to have that money," retorted Noddy, speaking in an excited tone.

"Look here, young man," answered his father, "don't let me hear you speak to me again like that. Remember you are not of age, and until you are you are under my control. Remember also that you are not too big to be whipped. I am inclined to think that would be a good thing for you."

"I'd like to see any one try it," retorted Noddy impudently.

"Leave the room! Leave the room, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Nixon, rising to his feet, his face white with anger. "I do not want to lose my temper, and act hastily. Leave the room at once, "and he pointed to the door.

Noddy, with a sullen and hateful glance at his parent, passed through the portal. He slammed the door behind him, giving vent to the anger that raged within him. After the young man was gone Mr. Nixon sank down in a chair. He was trembling, and tears stood in his eyes.

"To think that my oldest son should be so thoughtless of the respect due me," he sighed. "I wish he was better. Perhaps if he had had to work as hard as I did to make my fortune he would not be so wasteful. But I simply can not let him spend any more money at present. It is for his own good, but he can't seem to see it. Ah me! I wish he was a better son."

Noddy went to his room, put on another suit after doffing his bicycle clothes, and then ordered one of the maids to get him something to eat. After a hasty meal he left the house.

"I wonder if I couldn't borrow some money, from Tom Judson," mused Noddy, as he reached the centre of the town, and proceeded along the streets filled with people coming home from work. "He must be at the mill office yet. I'll try, any how."

Tom, the son of Amos Judson, who owned a large iron mill in Cresville, was a young man whose acquaintance Noddy had made some time before. Ordinarily Tom was well supplied with money.

Noddy found Tom in the mill office. It was about closing time.

"Hello, Tom!" greeted Noddy.

"Hello, yourself!" responded Tom, genially.

"Tom," went on Noddy rapidly, seeing there was no one within hearing, "can you lend me three hundred dollars? I need it to pay a bill with in a hurry, and I haven't time to go home. The governor would let me have it for the asking. I'll pay you back in a couple of days."

For answer Tom slowly turned one pocket after another inside out.

"Dead broke!" he laughed. "Just paid my board bill and I can't get any cash until Saturday night. Sorry."

"So am I," joined in Noddy.

"If you want to crack the safe there," went on Tom, pointing to an old- fashioned one that stood in a corner, "you could get three hundred dollars, and more. I saw dad put one thousand dollars in bills in there a while ago. Some people paid their debts late this afternoon, and he didn't want to go to the bank so near closing time. But I guess you don't want to crack a safe, do you, Noddy?"

"No," replied Noddy, with an uneasy laugh, as he left the mill office.

"Good night," called Tom, as he proceeded to put his books away. Then, seeing that the safe was closed, and locking the office door, he went home.

"Everything fails me," muttered Noddy. "But I simply must raise the cash -- somehow. I wonder --"

But he hardly dared whisper even to himself the thought that came into his mind.

CHAPTER VI.

AT THE CLUB HOUSE.

Following the last of the races at the athletic grounds it was announced that the Cresville Club would tender, that night, a reception to all participants and their friends. There was to be a little entertainment and refreshments would be served. The prizes would also be awarded.

Bob and his sister Susie were going, Ned would be there and Jerry Hopkins had promised to take Julia. Besides it was expected that a number oŁ boys and girls, friends of the three chums, would be present.

When Bob, Ned and Jerry, with the two girls, reached the club house that evening, they found a big crowd already there.

"Oh, there's Alice Vines and Helen Gale!" exclaimed Susie, leaving her brother and running over to where the girls stood.

"Yes, and there's Mollie Horton!" exclaimed Julia. "I'm real glad she came," and Julia ran from her brother and joined Mollie.

"Well, it looks as if we'd have to paddle our own canoes," remarked Jerry, with a laugh. "Deserted the first thing, after the glorious victories we won, too."

"Let's pretend we don't want to talk to them," suggested Ned. "That's the surest way to bring the girls around," which holds true of old as well as young girls, it may be said.

"Come down stairs and I'll treat you all to ice-cream," invited Jerry.

The boys were hurrying away, not looking in the direction of the girls, when there was a flurry of skirts and a miniature cyclone descended about the lads.

"What's that I heard about ice-cream?" asked Julia, with a laugh, as she ran up and grasped her brother by the arm.

"Did you hear anything?" asked Jerry, in an innocent tone.

"Yes, and I happen to have some sort of a vague recollection about a promise of ice-cream sodas made by some one this afternoon," went on the girl, laughing. "Do you boys recall anything about that?"

"I guess the joke is on us, boys," said Bob. "Come along, girls, you shall have the ice-cream."

It was a jolly little party that gathered about the ice-cream tables. They had almost finished one plate each, when a boy with light hair, that never seemed to be combed, and blue eyes that twinkled like two stars and a mouth that always seemed to be open, either while he was talking or laughing, came up.

"Hello girls! Hello fellows!" he exclaimed rapidly, and talking by jerks. "Fine night -- big crowd -- lots of people -- have some more cream?"

"Easy, easy," pleaded Jerry. "You talk like a house afire, Andy Rush."

"Rush by name -- Rush by nature," spluttered Andy. "Come, what is it? Ice- cream -- candy cake -- lemonade -- pick the winner!"

"Well, I guess the girls wouldn't object to some more cream," spoke Bob. "As for me, ice-cream sort of palls after one big plate. I'll have some lemonade."

Andy joined the little party, and added to the fun. He never seemed to stop talking, and he didn't seem to care whether any one listened. "Prizes going to be given out," cried Andy, presently, hurrying up stairs.

This was a signal for a general breaking up of the little party. As each of the three chums came in for a prize they had to be near the platform, where Mr. Wakefield, the athletic instructor of the club, gave out the trophies.

There was quite a jam of people in the main room of the club, where seats had been placed to accommodate the assemblage. The boys found it rather difficult to get near the platform, but finally succeeded.

Bob's name was the first called. He blushed as he went forward to receive a fine diamond scarf pin that was the first prize in the amateur race class.

After several other trophies had been given out came the turn of Jerry to go forward and get the first prize for the three mile race. It was announced that the winner of this could have his choice of any article to the value of three hundred dollars. The money could not be given, as that would put the winner in the professional class, Mr. Wakefield said.

"We thought of giving a three hundred dollar piano as the first trophy," said Mr. Wakefield, "but there is no obligation to take that, as it is not purchased. Now, Jerry, what would you like?"

"If it can be bought for that amount of money I'll have a motor-cycle," replied Jerry after a moment's thought.

"That's the stuff!" called Bob in such a loud whisper that it was heard all over the room, and caused considerable laughter.

"And a motor-cycle you shall have," said Mr. Wakefield. "The finest that can be bought. I am glad you took that. It gives me a chance to say that in the future the club intends having some motor-cycle races. Perhaps you will compete, Jerry, and if you do I hope you will do your best."

"Three cheers for Jerry Hopkins!" called some one, and they were given with a will.

"Your prize is not quite as optional as was Jerry's," said Mr. Wakefield, when Ned came forward in answer to his name. "Still we hope you will like it. I have picked out this for you," and he gave the boy a magazine rifle of the most expensive make, a regular beauty, at the sight of which Ned's eyes sparkled with joy.

"Three cheers for Ned Slade!" shouted a voice at the back of the room, and Ned was cheered until his face grew red with blushes.

It was not long before all the prizes had been given out. Then followed an entertainment.

"Let's go back and sit with the girls," suggested Ned. The three chums moved down the centre aisle, and found that the young ladies had anticipated their coming and had saved seats for them.

Mr. Wakefield sought out Jerry and whispered that his motor-cycle would be ordered at once, and would probably arrive in the course of a couple of weeks.

"Isn't it queer," said Ned. "Do you remember that day how we were talking about getting motor-cycles?"

"I remember," replied Jerry. "But I didn't think I would have one so soon. I wish you and Bob were going to get them now."

"I'm going to see if I can't," said Ned.

"Same here," came from the heavy-weight youth.

The party, increased by late comers, was more jolly than before, and laughter and jokes made the hours pass so pleasantly that when twelve o'clock boomed out on the chiming time-piece of the club, there was a chorus of cries from the girls.

"Oh I How late it is!" almost screamed Mollie Horton.

"And mother told me to be sure and be home by eleven," came from Alice. "We must start, girls."

The majority of boys and girls lived in the same neighborhood. They paired off, as young folks will, when they approach the age of sentiment, and by two marched down the now quiet streets of Cresville, singing snatches of songs. It was a bright moon-light night, and the young people enjoyed every moment of it.

Ned, who had no sister to worry about, had asked permission to take Alice Vines home. She lived some distance from the others, though her route was the same as theirs for a little way. When it came time for Alice and Ned to take another path, they bade their companions good-night, and started off down the street together. Alice lived about half a mile from the parting of the ways, and Ned thought the distance all too short.

"I've had a very pleasant time," said Alice, when she reached her gate. "Thank you very much for bringing me home."

"The pleasure was all mine, I assure you," said Ned with a gallant bow, whereat Alice laughed.

Then Ned started home alone. His way lay past the Judson iron mill, a rather lonesome part of the town, but Ned did not care. Once he wished he had brought his new rifle along, instead of leaving it at the club house. Then he laughed to himself at his fears.

After he had passed his father's store, which was in darkness, he came to a part of the town where there were no street lamps. However the moon gave considerable light.

There were mysterious shadows, too, and once Ned thought one took on the shape of a man sneaking around a corner. He came to a halt, his heart beating wildly.

"Pshaw! It must have been a cloud," he declared.

A little later he came nearer the iron mill. It was located on the bank of a river, and the rushing of the water sounded rather uncanny in the lonesome night. Once more Ned started as he beheld a shadow glinting along the street ahead of him.

"That's no moon-shadow," argued the boy. "That's the outline of a man, if ever there was one. And it looked for all the world like Bill Berry. Well, I don't know's I'm afraid of him, and he certainly isn't of me."

He walked on boldly, whistling to keep up his courage, though he would have disputed that point had any one accused him. Then he came in full view of the mill. Through the glass door of the office he caught sight of a light. He gave a sudden start and hurried forward.

CHAPTER VII.

NODDY AND THE SQUARE BOX.

"A light in the mill!" exclaimed Ned softly. There must be something wrong. I never saw one there before. Mr. Judson has no night watchman either, unless he has gotten one in the last few days, which I doubt. I wonder what's up?"

In spite of the rather disagreeableness of the task Ned resolved to keep watch for a little while and see what developed.

He found a stone where he could sit down in the shadow and observe events. For some time nothing happened. The little light glowed steadily. Then it began to flicker and to move about.

Suddenly, off to the left, Ned heard a sound. It was just as if some one was walking along and trying to avoid making a noise. Only the breaking of a little piece of wood now and then, or the rattle of a pebble, showed that some one was moving.

Ned crouched down behind the stone on which he had been sitting. He peered forward, straining his eyes in the uncertain light to catch the least glimpse of who ever was approaching. He started as he saw a man, bending low so as to conceal as much of himself as possible, steal from the yard of the mill and take up his position on the other side of the street, about fifty feet from where Ned was concealed.

"I'm almost certain that was Bill Berry," whispered Ned. "I'm positive now that something wrong is afoot. Bill isn't out on a night like this for any good. I wonder if I ought to run for help?"

For some time Ned kept watchful eyes in the direction Bill, or the man he supposed was him, had gone. He could see him, crouched all in a heap, beside a stone, just as Ned himself was. And the man seemed to be keeping a watch on the mill, exactly as Ned was doing.

"Maybe there are robbers in the mill now," argued Ned, "and Bill is keeping guard. I've a good notion to go and see if I can't find a policeman."

Once more Ned heard a movement in the direction of the mysterious watcher. He looked and saw the man straighten up and look cautiously about him. Then he saw him steal across the street, go up to the door of the mill office, and peer in.

"I wish I dared do that," thought Ned. "Then I'd know whether I'm making a fool of myself, staying out like this when I ought to be in bed."

For more than a minute Bill Berry, for Ned could see plainly now that the man was the town bad character, stood and gazed into the mill office. Then, apparently satisfied with what he had seen, Bill tip-toed away and passed down the street and out of sight.

"Now it's my turn," whispered Ned, and he moved forward.

He looked up. The light was still glowing though faintly. Ned set his foot on the first wooden step. As if it had been a signal agreed upon the light went out suddenly, and the office was in darkness.

"Queer!" exclaimed Ned. "I wonder if whoever is in there could have heard me?"

A moment's reflection, however, showed him this could not have been the case.

"Maybe they are watching and saw me," he argued. This made him feel a little strange. To think that in the darkness, there might be evil eyes watching his every movement was not a pleasant thought. He knew that he could be seen from within the mill, though he himself could observe nothing inside.

"Might as well look in, though, now I'm here," he said to himself.

So he boldly, but softly, went up the five steps, and, placing his hands on either side of his face, to shut out the little light of the moon that, now and then, straggled through the clouds, Ned peered anxiously into the office. As he had feared he could distinguish nothing. It was as black as the proverbial pocket.

Ned walked down the steps. As he did so ho thought he heard, from within the mill, a sound, as if a door was slammed. He listened intently.

"I guess I must have fancied it," he said. "I must be getting nervous. That won't do. All the same I would like to have seen what Bill Berry did when he looked in while the light was there."

With this thought in mind Ned moved off. The iron mill took up quite a large space of ground, what would be termed a city block, and there were streets on three sides of it, besides a road along the river, between the stream and the mill. A high fence surrounded all but the front of the mill, though there were gates in it at intervals to admit the workmen and teams. To get to his home Ned had to go to the farthest end of the mill fence, and turn up a street there. He was walking toward the corner, and was close to it, when he heard footsteps approaching.

He hesitated a moment. Then he reflected that he had as much right to be where he was as any one. The footsteps came nearer and nearer. Then, as Ned proceeded he turned the corner, and came face to face with Noddy Nixon!

Just then the moon, which had been hidden by a cloud, came out brightly. By its gleam Ned could distinguish the bully's features clearly. They bore a look of mingled rage and fear.

"Hello, Noddy," said Ned, resolving in spite of all that had taken place, to speak friendly. "Fine night, isn't it?"

"Look here!" burst out Noddy. "Are you spying on me? Can't I go to the river to get some fish bait without having every young cub in Cresville at my heels?"

"I wasn't spying on you, as you call it," said Ned quietly, "and if you think so the less I have to say to you the better off I'll be."

"I've a mind to knock your head off," spluttered Noddy. "Just mind your own business or you'll get into trouble, and it will be a kind you won't like."

Ned did not deem the remarks worthy of an answer. He turned and was hurrying past. As he did so he noticed that Noddy held tightly under one arm a small square box. It seemed to be made of wood. Catching Ned's glance at what he carried, Noddy rapidly shifted the box until it was hidden under his coat. Then, with angry mutterings, he hurried on.

"Rather a queer sort of box to use for his fish bait," thought Ned. "I wonder what he was up to, any how? And I wonder what that light in the mill meant? I've had quite a few adventures to-night. Guess I'd better get home before I meet with any more."

So he walked rapidly on, and reached his house without further incident. He soon fell asleep, to dream of being shut up in a small square wooden box with a big fish, while Noddy Nixon, on a motor-cycle, was riding off rapidly with the box under his arm.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE MILL MYSTERY.

"Have you heard the news -- great excitement -- big robbery -- everybody talking about it -- hurry up!"

It was thus Andy Rush greeted Ned the next morning as he stopped at the latter's house on the way down town. Andy's hair was more disarranged than ever, and his blue eyes fairly shone.

"What's up?" asked Ned, who had come to the door in answer to Andy's whistle, having been met with the flow of words that startled him.

"Last night -- midnight, I guess -- Judson's mill -- thousand dollars -- great excitement -- safe blown open -- money taken -- detectives notified -- I'm off to see the fun -- hurry up!"

"Hold on!" called Ned. "I saw -- I know --" and then he stopped. The memory of what he had seen in the night; the light in the mill, the actions of Bill Berry, and his meeting with Noddy Nixon, who carried a square box; all this came to Ned in an instant. He was about to tell Andy, but on second thought decided that he had better keep his own counsel, at least, for a while.

"Coming along? -- no time to lose!" cried Andy.

"I'll be down after I have breakfast," replied Ned, waving a farewell to Andy, and returning to the house sorely puzzled.

He ate his breakfast rapidly. He hardly knew what to do in reference to what he had witnessed during his watch at the mill. After some thought he decided to wait a little while, learn more particulars of the robbery, and then relate everything to his father.

In a little while Mr. Slade left the house and Ned soon followed. When the lad reached the centre of the town he needed no one to tell him that there was considerable excitement. In a small place like Cresville news spreads quickly even without a daily paper.

Ned soon found his chums, Bob and Jerry.

"Have you heard about it?" demanded Ned.

"Yes, Andy Rush told me," said Jerry.

"And he told me, too," put in Bob. "That fellow is as swift as his name."

"Did you hear any particulars?" demanded Ned.

"It was an old-fashioned safe, according to what the policeman told me," said Jerry, "and the burglars had little trouble in getting it open."

"Did they blow it apart?"

"No, simply took a chisel and hammer and cut the lock out. The door was only soft iron."

By this time the three boys were near the mill. There was quite a crowd about, and several policemen were on guard, preventing any one, but those having business, from entering the establishment.

"One side, please," called a man suddenly, coming up behind the three chums. "I'm in a hurry."

The boys turned aside, to give passage to short, stout fussy man, who seemed in a tremendous state of excitement.

"That's Sheriff Blackwell," said Jerry. "I suppose he thinks the robbers are here waiting for him to arrest them."

There was really little news of the robbery to be had. Mr. Judson related what particulars he knew to the police.

"I had a little more than one thousand dollars on hand late yesterday afternoon," he said to the officers. "Several people paid me some bills, and as it was late, I didn't go to the bank, but locked the money up in the safe. I seldom do this, as the iron box is no match for burglars. As far as I know the only persons who knew the money was in the safe were my son and myself. I am sure neither he nor I told any one."

"We must get right to work looking up clues," said the sheriff.

But there were apparently no clues. As has been said, the door of the safe was of soft iron. The robber, or robbers, had used a cold chisel and a hammer, and cut out a section of the door around the big clumsy lock. Then it was a comparatively easy matter to get at the cash. The thieves had left nothing behind them that would throw any light on the mystery.

Having learned all they could, and seeing that there were likely to be no developments at the mill, the three chums wandered up the street. All the while Ned was busy thinking. Finally he said:

"Boys, I've something to tell you. I want to ask your advice. It's about the robbery. Come where we can find a quiet place."

Soon the three chums were sitting comfortably beneath a big oak tree, that cast a pleasant shade from the sun, which was already hot, though it was early in the day.

"Now, let's hear the yarn," said Chunky.

Thereupon Ned told what he had seen while watching the mill the previous night.

"Well, I should say you did know something about the robbery," commented Jerry. "Why didn't you tell this to the police?"

"I did think of it," said Ned. "But I wanted to get some advice first. You see the light may or may not have had a connection with the crime."

"Yes, but it looks suspicious, seeing Bill Berry around," came from Bob.

"Are you sure it was him?" asked Jerry.

"As sure as I am that I'm talking to you now."

"And are you just as positive that it was Noddy?"

"Even more so. Wasn't I talking to him?"

"And he said he had fish bait in the square box?"

"He didn't exactly say so, but he intimated as much."

"If it was fish bait, why should he try to hide it, as you say he did?" asked Jerry.

"That's what puzzles me," replied Ned. "I only wish I had seen what Bill saw in the mill office when the light was burning."

"Maybe Bill is the robber," suggested Bob.

"I hardly think so," was Ned's opinion. "He may have had some connection with it, and may even have known about it. But, in my opinion the person who took the thousand dollars was the person who had the light in the office, and that wasn't Bill."

"Do you -- do you think Noddy -- er -- Noddy took the money?" asked Bob in a hesitating tone. He felt rather delicate about accusing an acquaintance, even one so undesirable as Noddy, of a serious crime.

"Well, I hate to think so, but it does look suspicious," said Ned. "He certainly acted afraid because he met me."

"Could any one get out of the office any way except going through the front door?" asked Bob.

"Yes," replied Ned. "There is a back door that goes out into the mill yard. From the yard a person could pass onto the road along the river, and then come up along the north side of the mill fence, on Peterson street."

"And it was at the corner of Peterson street and Maple alley that you met Noddy, wasn't it?"

"That's just where it was."

There was silence for a few minutes among the boys. Each one was busy with disagreeable thoughts.

"Did any of you hear how the mill of lice door was opened?" asked Ned.

"The lock wasn't forced on either the back or front door," answered Jerry. "So I was told. The police think the robber used a skeleton key."

"Then it comes right down to a question. Is Noddy Nixon guilty?" asked Bob solemnly.

"It's hard to decide," replied Ned. "I'd hate to accuse any one, even when things look as suspicious as they do now. Do you think I ought to tell the police? Perhaps they will arrest both Bill and Noddy on suspicion."

"You'd have to be a witness against them, and that would not be very pleasant," suggested Jerry. "Besides their word would be as good as yours in court, and you have no proof. I think the best thing to do is to wait a while. If suspicion points more strongly to Noddy or Bill, then you can come forward and tell what you know."

"Then I'll wait a while," said Ned. "In the meantime we can, all three, have an eye on Noddy and Bill. They may do something or say something that would give us a clue."

"There's another thing I don't believe any of us have thought of," came from Jerry.

"What's that?"

"Why, you know, Mr. Nixon, Noddy's father, owns several shares in Judson's mill."

"Are you sure of that?" asked Ned.

"Positive. I heard mother saying something about it the other day. It seems the concern was made a stock company not long ago, and Mr. Judson wanted mother to invest some of her money in it. He remarked at the time that Mr. Nixon had taken ten shares of the stock, and thought it a good investment."

"That might or might not throw additional suspicion on Noddy," remarked Ned. "If he knew his father was interested, financially, in the iron mill, he hardly would take money that he knew might cause his father a loss."

"Well, all this talking don't bring matters any nearer a solution," said Jerry, finally. "I think all we can do is to wait and watch."

"And meet every day to compare notes," suggested Ned.

CHAPTER IX.

THE QUEER BANK BILL.

It was the afternoon of the day the robbery of the mill was discovered. Ned, after his conference with his two chums, had gone down to his father's store. He wanted to talk to Mr. Slade about the prospects of getting a motor-cycle. For, now that Jerry was about to get one, the desire on Ned's part was all the stronger.

While standing in the front of the big department establishment his father owned Ned was surprised to see, passing on the other side of the street, Noddy Nixon and Paul Banner.

"That's queer," commented Ned. "I didn't know Noddy and Paul were as chummy as that. They didn't used to have much use for each other."

Then the idea suddenly came to him, that here was the very opportunity he desired. He could follow Noddy and Paul, and see if he might learn anything.

The bully and the dude, as Ned could observe from time to time, did not seem to be exactly in accord. At times they would almost come to a halt, and dispute over something. Noddy seemed to be objecting to some course of action proposed by Paul.

"They must be going to the old wind mill," commented Ned, as he saw Noddy and Paul turn down a street that led to an old-fashioned, and deserted flour mill, that, in by-gone days, had been operated by wind power. The mill was a good distance from the edge of the town, in the centre of a big field.

Sure enough that was the destination of the two young men. Ned was as close after them as he dared to go. There was little risk of his being noticed while he was on the streets, but, after leaving them there was greater danger of detection for the trailer.

"However," argued Ned. "as long as I know where they are going, I don't need to keep so close after them. I can wait until they get to the mill, and then I can go there too. By coming up from the back, where there are no windows, which I can do by going through Hedges's Lane, they can't see me."

He approached the mill rapidly from the rear. As he came within hearing distance he could distinguish voices. And they seemed to be disputing. The ancient establishment was full of cracks and broken places, and the noise from inside passed out freely. Nearer and nearer hurried Ned. At last he reached the broad platform that ran all around the base of the mill. He proceeded cautiously, taking care not to step in the big holes that yawned here and there. He crept around to a place near the front entrance to the old structure. Fortunately here he found where a board had come lose, so that it afforded a good listening place.

"I don't see what in the world you wanted to bring me all the way out to this lonely place for, my dear chap," Paul was saying.

"It's this way," Noddy was explaining. "I told you I was short of cash, and had to ask you to wait until to-day to pay the bet I made with you."

"But, my dear fellow," "Polly" expostulated, "why couldn't you pay me up there in town, just as well?"

"To tell you the truth," said Noddy, in a tone that would indicate to any one who knew him that he was going to do just the opposite. "I didn't want any one to see me paying you."

"And why not, pray, my dear chap?"

"Because I owe quite a few bets," replied Noddy. "I am going to square them all up in a day or so, but if those I owe saw me paying you they would all come down on me at once and I would be financially embarrassed. I suppose you're ready to take the money now?"

"Ready, nay, anxious, my dear chap."

"Well, I had a little trouble in getting it," went on Noddy, not going into particulars, however. "And here it is. Just one hundred dollars, isn't it?"

"Correct, my dear boy."

"Ten fives are fifty," said Noddy, counting out some bills, "and twenty is seventy. Twenty more is ninety, and that ten makes just the hundred."

"Hold on here!" exclaimed Paul, when Noddy had come to the end of his counting. "This bill doesn't look just right."

"Which bill?"

"This last ten dollar one. I never saw one like it."

"Nonsense, that's all right," responded Noddy. "Let's see it."

Paul passed it back.

"Why, certainly it's good," Noddy said. "It's a state bank bill, instead of a national one, that's all. Issued by the Merchants' Bank of Boston."

"But what's mat queer red mark on it?"

Noddy examined it more closely. Then he laughed.

"Some one has gone to the trouble of marking his initials on it in red ink," he said. "Probably for identification, or to serve as a mark. Maybe it was once used as a marked bill," and Noddy gave a short laugh. "See, there are the letters H. R. C."

"I guess you're right," agreed Paul. "Well, hand it over. I must be going. Sorry you lost the bet, but losers must pay, you know."

"Oh, I'm not squealing," retorted Noddy.

"Guess I'll be going," went on Paul. "Beastly long walk back to town."

Ned was glad to hear the sound of departing footsteps. He kept in hiding for five minutes, however, fearing Noddy might return. At the end of that time he ventured out. He saw Noddy and Paul almost across the field and knew he was safe.

Ned hurried back to town, going the same roundabout path he had taken in coming. He hastened to Jerry's house and told him what had taken place, and the two hunted up Bob and related the events to him.

"Things are getting warm," commented Bob.

"They are that," replied Jerry.

"I wonder if one of us couldn't get a talk with 'Polly' Banner." suggested Jerry. "We might manage to get talking about queer bills, and 'Polly' would show us the one he had."

"Suppose you try that," Bob said.

"I'm willing," Jerry responded. "I'll take a walk down town now, and maybe I'll meet him. You wait until I come back."

Jerry resolved to first visit the club house of the athletic organization, as he knew Paul spent a good deal of his time there. Sure enough, he found Paul sitting at ease in a comfortable chair, smoking a perfumed cigarette and reading a book.

"I say, Paul," said Jerry. "you're not interested in old coins are you?"

"Old coins? No, my dear chap; why should I be interested in old coins?"

"Oh, I don't know. I was just wondering. Some people collect old coins, and some stamps. I favor stamps, myself."

"Now that you speak of it," said Paul. "I remember I have an old bill about me. It's rather odd. Maybe you'd be interested in it."

"Let's see," replied Jerry, thanking his stars that he was about to accomplish his purpose so easily.

Paul drew out the odd ten dollar note Noddy had given him. Just as Ned had reported, it was an old style state bank note. And, in one of the blank spaces on the reverse side some one had made a very elaborate monogram of the initials H. R. C.

"Quite a curiosity," observed Jerry, passing the bill back.

"I think so," said Paul, puffing out thick clouds of smoke from his Egyptian cigarette. "But I suppose there is no premium on it."

"There might be," replied Jerry in as careless a tone as he could assume. "If I were you I'd save it and see."

"I will," said Paul. "I'll place it in the very back part of my wallet, and I won't spend it until I see a coin catalog. That's an easy way to make money."

"Where did you get the bill. "asked Jerry. "Perhaps you can get more."

"Noddy Nixon gave it to me," responded Paul. "I wasn't going to take it at first, but he told me it was good."

"Oh, I reckon it's good enough," answered Jerry. "Well, I guess I'll be traveling. Good-bye, Paul."

"Good afternoon, my dear chap," answered Paul, lighting another cigarette.

"I'll not forget how that bill looks," said Jerry to himself, as he sought his two chums and told them what had taken place between Paul and himself.

CHAPTER X.

THE MOTOR-CYCLE.

It was about a week after the foregoing events when Jerry received a letter, bearing in the upper left-hand corner of the envelope the mark of the C. H. & D. Railroad.

He read the missive, which was short and to the point. Briefly it informed Jerry that there awaited him at the freight office of the road one motor- cycle, which he could have by calling and presenting the enclosed way-bill.

"Hurrah!" shouted the boy. "Three cheers for the Cresville Athletic Club and Mr. Wakefield! Hurrah!"

Jerry lost no time in calling for his two chums, and the three boys hurried together to the freight depot.

"What can I do for you boys?" asked Mr. Hitter, the agent in charge.

"I come to get what that calls for," replied Jerry, handing over the way- bill.

"Oh, yes, one of them new-fangled bicycles that take a steam engine to run 'em. Well, you'll find it down at the end of the platform," said Mr. Hitter. "Now, be careful, and don't blow your self up. Boys is dreadful careless like," he muttered, as he went on with his work.

Boxed in a big crate, at the end of the freight platform, the boys found the motor-cycle. It was addressed in big letters to "Jerry Hopkins, Esq.," and marked "With Care."

"Shall I unpack it here or get it taken up to the house, crate and all?" asked Jerry of his chums.

"Oh, unpack it here. Then you can ride it home," said Bob.

"I know about as much how to ride one as I would how to run a locomotive," objected Jerry. "I've studied the catalogs, of course, but I think I'd better start it up at home first."

"Oh, go ahead, ride it home," put in Ned. "We can manage to find out how it works, and we can get some gasolene over to the drug store."

So, rather against his own calmer judgment, Jerry decided to do as his friends wished. He borrowed a hammer from Mr. Hitter and soon the crate was broken apart and the motor-cycle, in all its mechanical beauty, was revealed.

It certainly was a fine machine and had all the latest improvements. There were two cylinders instead of one, insuring great speed; the tires were large, and there was a large reservoir for gasolene. It was of the latest make and not generally on the market as yet.

"Here's a book that tells all about how to run it," said Bob, catching sight of a pamphlet of directions.

The boys read the directions over carefully. It seemed simple enough. All there was to do was to put some gasolene in the tank, see that the batteries gave a proper current, start the machine off, turn on the gasolene, switch on the spark and ride off.

"I'll get the gasolene," volunteered Ned. He ran over to the drug store and came back with a can full.

"Now try and see if there's a good spark," Jerry suggested.

Satisfied that the batteries were in working order, Jerry prepared to take his first ride. The street leading from the railroad depot was a long straight wide one.

"It's a good thing," commented Jerry, referring to the highway. "There's plenty of chance to be run away with, and not damage anything. I can ride clear to New York if I go far enough"

"I wouldn't this time, though," said Bob.

Jerry smiled. It was a rather dubious sort of a grin, to be sure. Much as he wanted a motor-cycle, he knew there was a little risk in riding one when he was not thoroughly familiar with it. However, he wasn't going to back out. He got on the ponderous machine, which Bob and Ned steadied for him.

"Give me a little shove."

Bob and Ned did so.

"Work the pedals and get a good start," advised Bob.

Jerry did so. Soon he was moving off at a fair speed, though, of course, just as if he was on an ordinary bicycle.

"Turn on the gasolene!" shouted Ned.

"And throw in the spark!" called Bob.

"Here she goes," Jerry yelled back.

There was a series of sharp explosions, like a machine gun being fired at top speed, and the motor-cycle, with Jerry aboard, started off.

"Hurrah!" shouted Ned and Bob.

Bang! Bang! Bang! the machine went, and soon Jerry was a quarter of a mile down the road. "He ought to shut off the exhaust," commented Bob. "He can do that on this machine. On some you can't."

The two boys, thinking of nothing but motor-cycles and their chances of getting them, passed down the road. Jerry was out of sight. In a little while they espied a cloud of dust down the highway. It seemed to be moving toward them.

"Here comes Jerry, I guess," Bob said.

"And he's moving like the wind!" exclaimed Ned.

In a few minutes the dust cloud was nearer, and then the boys saw that it was Jerry approaching at a rapid rate. His machine did not make so much noise now. But, as he came nearer, Bob and Ned, who caught a glimpse of his face, thought he looked a little worried.

"Hold on! Can't you stop?" cried Bob, for Jerry was about to pass.

"That's the trouble!" Jerry yelled as he whizzed past. "I can't seem to shut off the power!"

Then he was lost in a cloud of dust, going down the road in the opposite direction.

"Something's wrong!" Bob ejaculated.

"He's forgotten which lever to pull!" exclaimed Ned. "If he don't look out there'll be trouble."

As he spoke Jerry came flying back.

"Can't one of you do something?" he cried. "I'm afraid to take my hands off the bars long enough to pull the levers again, and the last time I yanked them I seemed to turn on more power. I'll ride down the road a way and turn back. Think up something in the meanwhile!"

"He's in a pickle!" exclaimed Ned.

"I have it!" cried Bob.

"What?"

"The next time he comes past yell at him to ride around in a circle until we can look in the book of directions on how to run a motor-cycle." And so, the next time Jerry whizzed by, with a comical worried look on his face, Bob yelled:

"Ride around us in a circle, Jerry. Make believe you're on the track. Ned and I will look in the book and see how to stop you!"

Jerry obeyed. Around and around he went, the machine kicking up a cloud of dust. In the centre of the ring stood Bob and Ned, pouring over the pages of the book.

"There it is. "cried Ned, pointing to something on one page.

"What does it say?" asked Bob.

"To stop the machine pull lever A and throw off B toward you three notches," read Ned.

"Pull lever A and throw off B toward you three notches!" Bob yelled to Jerry.

"Which is lever A and which is lever B?" asked Jerry. "They're not marked on the machine."

"That's so, I forgot that," admitted Ned.

"What am I going to do?" begged Jerry. "Have I got to ride around like this all night?"'

"What's in the name of Tunket is the trouble?" asked Mr. Hitter, the station agent, who was on his way down the road, and who had come to where Jerry was riding around in a circle with Bob and Ned in the centre.

"He can't stop!" cried Ned and Bob at once.

"I knowed there'd some trouble come of that machine," said Mr. Hitter, shaking his head. "I told you not to monkey with 'em. It all comes of man trying to improve on nature. Walking's good enough for me. What particular form of trouble does the critter seem to be suffering from? I mean the motor-cycle."

"There's two levers," explained Bob. "One is A and the other is B, according to the book. The trouble is they are not marked on the machine, and Jerry don't know which one to pull."

"Well, not knowing much about the case, I would advise him to pull 'em both," said Mr. Hitter. "He can't be any worse off than he is now, and maybe it'll stop him."

"Good!" exclaimed Bob. "That's it. Why didn't we think of that?"

"Why didn't we?" was all Ned could say.

Then they both shouted to Jerry, who was still pursuing his weary round:

"Move both levers, Jerry!"

Jerry did so. In an instant the motor-cycle ceased the explosions, and, in a little while it slowed down so that Jerry could dismount.

"Well, that certainly was an experience," commented Jerry, as he wiped the dust from his face. "But it was fun all the same," he added, whereat Mr. Hitter laughed.

"Boys will be boys," the station agent muttered as he went off down the road.

"Funny the machine got such a fit on," said Ned, examining the motor-cycle closely. "I didn't think they would act like that."

"Here's the difficulty," cried Bob, who was also looking over the apparatus. "This piece of wire ought to have been taken off. It was put on temporarily when the machine was packed. See, it held the gasolene lever and the spark one also, so they couldn't come back separately. You had to pull them both at once to shut off the flow of fluid and the current of electricity. It's a thing that wouldn't happen if we hadn't been in such a hurry."

"Well, it all came out right," said Jerry. "I'm going to ride the machine home." And he did without further mishap, stopping and starting the motor without trouble, now that the wire was off.

CHAPTER XI.

MACHINES FOR BOB AND NED.

That night two very earnest lads implored two fathers to purchase motor- cycles for them. As Bob and Ned were both sons of well-to-do parents the matter was not much one of cost.

"To tell you the truth," said Mr. Baker to Bob, "I'm a little afraid of those machines. They are dangerous."

"I'll be careful," pleaded Bob.

"I know, but that's what every one says at first," objected Mr. Baker.

At the same time the same sort of a conversation was going on in the Slade household.

"You say there's no danger," Mr. Slade was remarking in answer to Ned's statement to that effect. "But I heard about Jerry Hopkins and his experience this afternoon. It seems to me there was danger there."

It was three days before the two fathers arrived at a decision. They had consulted in the meanwhile, and Jerry's machine had been closely examined. Bob and Ned had both taken turns on it, and showed that, after a little practice, they could run it perfectly. Jerry, also, had become quite expert.

In the meantime the boys were so engrossed with the idea of motor-cycles that they had almost forgotten about the mill robbery. They met, according to appointment, under the tree in the woods, but there was nothing new to tell. With the discovery of the queer bank bill, and the knowledge that Paul Banner was saving it, the boys resolved to let the matter rest for a while.

The police and detectives, and even the fussy sheriff, had discovered nothing, save that the money was gone, which every one knew. As for Noddy, he did not act like a guilty person. Bill Perry had disappeared for the time being.

Noddy seemed to have plenty of money. He was careful not to apply to his father again, however, and the source of his supply was a mystery except to himself. In about a week Mr. Nixon, of his own accord, gave Noddy two hundred dollars.

"I hope you will spend it wisely, my son," he said. "It is wicked to waste money, when so much good can be done with it."

"I say, father," began Bob to Mr. Baker one evening, a little more than a week after the time Jerry had received his prize motor-cycle, "have you thought any more about that machine for me?"

"I have made up my mind," went on Mr. Baker, with exasperating slowness. "that you can not --"

"Oh, father!" burst out Bob.

"That you can not get along without one," finished the banker with a laugh. "and so I have ordered one for you."

"Thanks dad!" was all Bob could say, but the two words meant a good deal.

At the same time, according to arrangement between Mr. Baker and Mr. Slade, the latter was announcing to his son Ned, that he could have the much-wanted machine. If there were two happier boys than Ned and Bob in Cresville that night, no one knew where to find them.

"We'll have lots of sport," said Bob. "I know of a dozen trips we can take, that would be too long for a bicycle."

Three days later the two motor-cycles came, and the chums could hardly wait to unpack them. Bob's and Ned's machines were just like Jerry's except in a few minor points.

Jerry was delighted that his chums' machines had arrived. He got his own out and soon all three were speeding down the road. In point of fastness there was not much to choose from among the three motors. None of the boys had risked running the cycles at top speed yet, and at the half-way mark each one developed about the same swiftness.

The boys rode for several miles. It was a pleasant dry, with a bright sun overhead, while an early morning shower had laid the dust. After an hour's travel Bob said:

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm hungry."

In a few minutes they stopped their motor-cycles in front of a big white farm house, and walked up the path to the side door.

On the porch they found a motherly looking woman churning. She smiled at the sight of the three boys, and took off her apron, which was splashed with butter-milk, as she came forward to greet them.

"Good-afternoon," she said pleasantly.

"We stopped to see if we could get something to eat," began Jerry. "We're willing to pay for it, of course," he added, fearing the woman might think they were tramps. "Anything will do. Some cookies, a little milk or a piece of pie."

"I guess I can fix you something," said the woman. "Hi! You Jason!" she called in a loud voice. "Come and run this churn while I set out a lunch for some visitors."

In answer to her hail an old man shuffled around the corner of the house.

"I'm comin'," he said in a quavering voice. "I'm a leetle mite slow, 'cause the rheumatiz catches me to-day, Alvirah. But I'm comin'."

"It's my grand uncle," the woman explained to the boys. "He's almost ninety years old, but he can churn as good as I can. Can't you, Jason."

"I reckon so, Alvirah."

While the farmer's wife bustled around to set out a simple meal for the boys, the latter sat out on the porch watching old Jason churn. He moved the dasher up and down, a queer chugging sound following each stroke.

"How did you come, anyhow? Walk?" asked the old man presently.

"On motor-cycles," replied Ned.

"I didn't know they had them flyin' machines in working order yit," exclaimed the old man.

"Come on, boys," interrupted the farmer' wife. "I have a little something here for you.?

The "little something" proved to be quite a meal. There was nice fresh bread, with the best butter the boys had ever eaten. There was also honey right from the bee hives, some rich milk, a plate of doughnuts and cheese, and two big pies, one apple and the other peach.

"This is very kind of you," said Jerry. "We didn't want you to go to all this trouble."

"I'm sure it's no trouble," replied the woman. "I'm glad you came along. It's rather lonesome out this way. We don't often have company."

The boys ate with a will. When they had finished there was not much left on the table.

"How much do we owe you?" asked Jerry, as he and his chums rose in preparation to continue their journey.

"Oh, I reckon ten cents will be about right," was the answer. But Jerry insisted on paying twenty-five cents for each, and, after some argument, the woman accepted it.

Soon the boys were well on the road toward Cresville. They talked of many things, and planned several trips in the near future. As they turned into the main road leading to their homes they heard a chugging sound behind them.

All three came to a halt, dismounted, and sat down under a tree. Nearer and nearer came the sound of the approaching motor-cycle. Then, in a cloud of dust, a solitary rider whizzed past.

"Did you see who that was?" asked Ned. "Noddy Nixon."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I heard the other day that he was going to get a machine. That was him, sure enough."

"I don't think he goes so very fast," observed Jerry.

"He does, all the same," was Bob's opinion. "You can make up your mind Noddy will have as fast a machine as there is built."

"I suppose he bought it with some of the proceeds of the mill robbery," cried Jerry.

"Hush!" cried Ned. "Don't say such things. Some one might hear you and it would make trouble. Besides, we have not proved Noddy guilty yet."

"Well," said Bob with a shrug of his shoulders. "I hope we don't meet him very often when we are out on the road. He's not the most pleasant fellow in the world."

"There's not much danger of his seeking our company," came from Jerry. "He is not over-fond of any of us."

The three boys rested for a while beneath the tree and, then as the sun sank, they mounted their cycles, put on good speed, and arrived home in time for supper, bearing excellent appetites, in spite of the good meal they had had at the farm house.

CHAPTER XII.

A WILD NIGHT RIDE.

"I say, Jerry," began Bob, dismounting from his motor-cycle one afternoon in front of his chum's house. "what do you say to a night ride?"

"You mean on our machines?"

"Sure. Let's get acetylene gas lamps, that give a good light, and ride over to Fallsburg and back. "We can start in the evening and easily make the round trip in five or six hours."

Fallsburg was a town about the size of Cresville and forty miles distant therefrom. The road between was a fairly good one most of the way, and, by making a circuit involving about five miles more of travel an excellent highway for the whole distance was available.

It was decided to start right after supper, and the chums calculated they could make Fallsburg in about three hours. They did not intend to ride fast, and were out for pleasure rather than for speed.

Without special incident the trip to Fallsburg was concluded. It was nine o'clock when the boys reached the town, which was quite a lively place. Considerable of a stir was caused when our three heroes rode in on their machines, which were somewhat of a novelty there.

"Hurrah! I see an ice-cream sign!" exclaimed Ned, pointing down the street.

Little time was lost in getting to the store and after each had put away a large plate of the frozen stuff the boys felt better. The tables in the ice cream parlor were separated one from the other by large screens. In the improvised apartment just back of where the three boys were sitting, voices in low conversation could be heard.

"Are you sure Noddy will be there?" was the cautious inquiry that came to the ears of our heroes. At the sound of that name all three started.

"He'll be there if his machine doesn't break, which it has an unpleasant habit of doing lately," a second voice said.

"And do you think he'll bring the money?"

"He'd better if he knows what's good for him," was the answer. "He's put me off long enough."

"The old house by the cross-roads is the place, ain't it?" asked the party who had first spoken.

"That's it, and if Noddy don't show up he'll hear from me in a way he won't like."

"Come on," Whispered Jerry to his chums. "Let's get out of this before those men see us."

Quietly the three boys left the ice cream parlor. They did not speak until they were in the street.

"What do you suppose they were talking about?" asked Ned.

"I don't know what the subject was," replied Jerry. "but I venture to say the person they meant was our acquaintance, Noddy Nixon."

"And he's evidently expected to pay over some money to-night," added Bob.

At the old house at the cross-roads," put in Ned. "l'll bet I know where they mean."

"Where?" asked Jerry.

"Don't you remember that old tumbled-down place we passed about three miles outside of this town? Near the blacksmith shop?"

"You mean right after we crossed the river?" inquired Jerry.

"That's it."

The same thought was in the minds of all three. Bob was the first to mention it.

"Let's go out there and see what we can learn," he said. "It is on our way home, and we have plenty of time."

"There may be some danger," objected Jerry.

"Nonsense. We have as much right there as any one. All we have to do is to stop off from our motor cycles as we pass. No one can object to that."

After some further conversation it was agreed to do this. The boys wandered about the streets a while longer and, as it was nearing eleven o'clock they thought they had better start. They found their machines in proper order, and soon were moving slowly out of town.

"There's no use being in too much of a hurry," advised Bob. "Probably Noddy won't meet the men there much before midnight, and it lacks half an hour of that now."

A little later the three boys cam in sight of the deserted house. Lonesome and uncanny enough it looked, the moonlight making mysterious shadows here and there.

"Go easy," spoke Ned. "No need to tell them we are coming if by any chance they are there."

Silently the boys dismounted from their cycles, leaned the machines up against the fence a short way from in front of the house, and crept up through the long grass that filled the yard of the old vacant structure.

"Hold on!" cried Bob suddenly.

All three came to a halt.

"What is it?" whispered Jerry.

For answer Bob pointed toward a shed at the side of the house. In it could be seen a light gleaming.

"Are they in there?" asked Jerry.

"No, but some one's motor-cycle is," replied Bob.

Foot by foot the three boys made toward the dark and deserted house. They had circled half way around it, and, coming to the rear, were suddenly brought to a halt by a sliver of light shooting out from some crack.

"Hold on!" exclaimed Bob.

They stopped and looked toward the light. It came from the kitchen window, which was closed by broken shutters through a splintered slat of which the gleam came. On tip-toes the three boys crept under the window. They peered into the room, and the sight that met their eyes made them start in surprise.

Seated around a rough table, on which stood a lighted candle stuck in a bottle, were three figures. One was Bill Berry, the other was a stranger and the third was Noddy Nixon. The stranger was holding a pistol to Noddy's head, and seemed to be threatening him.

Bill Berry was looking on, and taking no part in the proceedings, evidently. Then, as the boys watched, they saw Noddy, plainly in fear of the man with the weapon, pull from his pocket a roll of bills.

He gave it to the stranger, fairly throwing it at him in a rage. Then the man with the pistol, smiling in a satisfied way, put up his weapon. Noddy was saying something, for the boys could see his lips moving, but they could not hear the words, for the window was closed.

"Queer doings," whispered Jerry.

At that instant Ned, in an endeavor to see better, leaned a little forward. A piece of board he was standing on broke with a loud crash, and he toppled forward, hitting the window shutter with his elbow.

Like a flash Noddy, Bill and the strange man leaped to their feet and gazed in the direction of the window.

"Quick! Light out of this!" exclaimed Bob. "They will be after us in another minute!"

Sure enough, after a moment's hesitation, Noddy ran toward the door with the intention of going outside and seeing who had made the racket.

"Hurry!" whispered Bob hoarsely. "To the motor-cycles!"

The three boys lost no time. Hastening on in the darkness they stumbled and ran to where they had left their machines.

As they reached them they heard a door opened, and footsteps in hot pursuit.

"Who is it?" they heard Noddy's voice inquiring.

The boys rolled their motor-cycles out in the road. They leaped into the saddles, started off, and in another instant had turned on the power and were off down the highway leading to Cresville. As they whizzed past the house, in which several lights now gleamed, they heard Noddy cry:

"Confound them! I'll fix them for spying on me!"

At the same time they heard the explosions that indicated that Noddy had put his motor-cycle in operation.

"The race is on!" cried Ned.

And a race it was to be. They were about thirty-five miles from home. There was a good road, and, with the moon high up now, it was well lighted. The acetylene lamps on the machines also gave good illumination. In a few minutes the motors of the three boys were humming on half-speed.

Behind them, borne on the night wind, could be heard the puffing of the motor-cycle in pursuit. But the three chums had a start of several minutes, which counted much.

"Look behind and see if you can see his lamp," said Ned.

"Not a gleam," reported Bob, after a hasty glance.

Several miles were passed in this fashion, the pursuing machine getting no nearer. Then, all at once, Ned cried:

"I can see his light!"

It was true. Either Noddy had increased his speed, or he had emerged from behind some bend in the road that hitherto hid the gleam of his lamp from the boys.

At the same time the explosions of his motor sounded louder.

"He's catching up to us!" cried Jerry. "Shall we turn on more power?"

"It's a little risky," cautioned Bob. "Especially as we don't know the road very well. However, another notch or two won't do any harm."

Noddy was now within an eighth of a mile. His speed was increasing. Suddenly he called:

"Whoever you are, stop, or I'll shoot?"

"He don't know who we are, anyhow," said Jerry.

"I'm going to fire!" shouted Noddy.

"This is getting exciting!" cried Ned

"He is only trying to scare us," exclaimed Bob. Then came a loud report.

"That wasn't a revolver!" exclaimed Jerry. "It sounded as if one of his tires burst. That's it!" he added a second later, as he looked back. "Noddy has had an accident. I guess this race is off!"

True enough, the front tire on Noddy's machine had collapsed. He was forced to stop, and, as the boys sped on they could hear him faintly calling after them. The three chums reduced the speed of their motors, but did not stop, and soon they were out of sight and hearing of Noddy.

"Well, we certainly had an adventure," came from Ned. "I wonder what it was all about?"

"We'll find out some day," was Jerry's opinion.

Then, once more they took up their journey, and reached Cresville without further happening, arriving just before daylight.

CHAPTER XIII.

ADVENTURES ON THE ROAD.

"WANT to take a ride with me?" asked Bob of Ned, one morning, about a week following the exciting night ride. "Father wants me to go over to Franklin to take a message to the bank there."

"Sure I'll go. And we'll ask Jerry. Wait until I get my machine, and I'll be with you."

The two boys were soon puffing along their motors to Jerry's house. He joined them and all three started off for Franklin.

The ride was a pleasant one. It was rather warm, but there was a cool breeze, that was added to by the speed at which the boys rode. Franklin was about twenty miles from Cresville, and was a village of good size. The boys had some friends there, and intended calling on them before returning.

They reached Franklin without mishaps. Bob transacted the business his father had sent him on, and then the boys voted that a meal would not be out of place.

"Well, I guess we'll have to be starting back," said Bob at length. "Father will want to know how I made out with his matter."

Ned and Jerry were agreeable, and they mounted their machines and were soon on the homeward journey.

They had gone perhaps ten miles when, on making a sudden turn in the road, they came face to face with a countryman who was driving a rather spirited horse. At the sight and sound of the machines the animal reared up in the air. The boys stopped their motors, but the horse would not be quieted. Even the sight of the cycles seemed to madden the brute. In spite of the efforts of the countryman the horse continued to rear and prance. Then the steed made a sudden turn, and, with a cracking sound, one of the carriage shafts broke.

"Now ye've gone and done it!" yelled the driver, seeming to fly in a rage. "Ye'll have to pay for this."

"We're very sorry," began Jerry. "we didn't intend to cause any trouble."

"That's always the way with peesky boys," went on the countryman. "I'll have the law on ye for this! You wait until I get out."

The horse, having done what damage he could, seemed to be satisfied, and quieted down. The driver dismounted and tied the animal to a fence, and then proceeded to examine the broken shaft.

"Busted clean oft," he announced in an ugly tone. "It'll cost five dollars to get it fixed. You'll have to settle."

"That's right, make 'em pay!" exclaimed a voice from the bushes that lined the road side, and, to the surprise of the three boys, Noddy Nixon stepped out into view.

"I intend to," said the countryman.

"They've no business on the road in their machines, frightening horses," went on Noddy with a grin. "The roads are for carriages."

"Well, I like your nerve, Noddy Nixon!" exclaimed Jerry hotly. "We have just as much right on the road as this driver has. And you've got a motor-cycle yourself."

"That's none of your business," remarked Noddy in a surly tone. "You cubs frightened this man's horse, and he has a right to demand payment. Don't let 'em get away until they pay," Noddy added to the driver.

"I don't intend they shall," was the answer.

"Look here!" exclaimed Bob. "We never said we didn't intend to pay, but it's none of your business, Noddy."

"Don't give me any of your lip," the bully roared. "I've been wanting to thrash you for some time, and now I have a good chance."

"Go ahead, if you think it's healthy," said Bob boldly. "I'm not afraid of you."

"If you fight him, you'll have to fight me," said Jerry, coming forward and standing beside Bob.

"Yes, and me also," said Ned.

"I guess I'll have to take a hand then," said the countryman. "I want pay for my broken shaft. If I can't get it in money I'll take it out of your hides."

"If you touch us I'll make a complaint and cause your arrest," said Jerry.

"Who's talking about arrests?" asked a gruff voice, and, from the bushes whence Noddy had made his appearance Bill Berry stepped out.

At the sight of him Noddy grinned, and moved closer to Bob.

"That's big talk for a small boy," Bill went on with a laugh. "What's the row, Noddy?"

"Oh, these young cubs frightened this gentleman's horse, the animal broke a shaft, and they won't pay for it."

"That isn't true," cried Bob. "We never refused to pay for the damage."

"Make 'em pay!" cried Bill, slapping his hand on his thigh with a sound like a pistol shot. "Make 'em pay!"

In a fit of passion Noddy aimed a blow at Bob. The boy dodged it cleverly, and shot out his fist toward Noddy's face. He only landed lightly on the bully's nose, but that, with the overbalancing caused when he missed his mark, sent Noddy down in a heap.

"I'll make you pay for this!" he fairly screamed as he scrambled up.

He rushed at Bob. Ned and Jerry ran up and were about to aid their chum.

"Let me attend to him alone!" pleaded Bob.

"I'll fix you!" screamed the bully.

Once more he aimed a fearful blow at Bob, but the latter merely stepped to one side, and once more Noddy went down, without having been hit. He arose with his mouth full of dust.

At that instant the countryman's horse, probably frightened by the noise and shouts, reared on its hind legs, broke the strap that fastened him to the fence, and galloped off down the road.

"Consarn ye! There goes my best horse!" cried the countryman, losing all interest in the fight. "Five dollars to whoever catches him!"

"I'm going to have a try for that!" exclaimed Bill, setting off down the road on a swift run. "Five dollars don't come my way every afternoon!"

"I'll sue ye for this!" yelled the countryman, shaking his fist at the boys before speeding down the highway after Bill in pursuit of the horse. "I'll have the law on ye!" His coat tails streamed in the wind as he raced away.

Noddy had stopped mid-way in his rush at Bob as the horse broke loose.

"Well, are you going to fight?" asked Bob coolly.

But Noddy's desire for battle seemed to have left him suddenly. He realized that he was no match for the three, or even for two, of the boys.

"I'll get square with you for this," he muttered as he slunk away in the bushes. "I've several scores to settle with you three cubs."

"Better settle 'em here and now," advised Jerry. "It's a good chance."

"You just wait," was all Noddy would say. Soon he disappeared in the shrubbery.

"Well, I thought for a while there was going to be trouble," said Bob, with a laugh. "Noddy certainly seemed mad."

"Well, I don't see any need of staying here any longer," said Ned at length. "It doesn't seem as if the countryman or Bill would come back. If that man with the horse wants any pay let him call and collect. He didn't treat us very nicely. As for Noddy, I guess he's far enough off by now."

"I wonder what he was doing out this way?" asked Bob.

"Yes, and lately Bill Berry is always with him," commented Ned.

"They're up to no good, you can be sure of that," was Jerry's opinion, in which the others shared.

Then, mounting their motor-cycles, the three boys made good speed home, meeting with no more fractious horses and puncturing no more tires.

CHAPTER XIV.

A FIRE AND A DISCOVERY.

"Fire! Fire! Fire!"

Loud shouts of this dreadful alarm, mingled ,with the ringing of bells, the tooting of whistles and the hurrying of many feet awoke Jerry late one night, three days after the encounter in the road with the countryman and his skittish horse.

"Fire! Fire! Fire!" yelled men and boys hastening down the street.

"Where's the blaze?" asked Jerry, throwing open his window and calling down to those running past.

"Judson's mill!" was the cry. "Looks like a big fire!"

Jerry looked in the direction of the mill, and saw a glare in the sky.

"I'm going!" he exclaimed.

"Oh Jerry, you might get hurt," objected Mrs. Hopkins.

"I'll be careful, mother," replied the boy, rapidly dressing.

On his way to the blaze he met Ned, who had also been awakened from his sleep by the alarm. The two boys hurried toward the mill, to which point it seemed as if every one in Cresville was hastening. The glare in the sky grew brighter.

"Here comes one of the engines!" cried Ned as the apparatus dashed past. It was one of two new steamers recently purchased.

"Hurry up, and let's see it work!" called Jerry, and the boys increased their run.

"How'd the mill catch fire?" panted Ned.

"I -- didn't -- hear," answered Jerry, breathing hard.

In a little while they were at the scene of the blaze. One of the smaller buildings of the mill was burning furiously. Smoke, flames and sparks were spouting from the roof, which was almost consumed.

Up dashed the engines. Connections were quickly made to hydrants, and soon two good sized streams were playing on the flames. The puffing of the steamers, the snapping and crackle of the flames, the shouts of those looking on, the yells of the firemen and the crash as pieces of the burning building fell in, made a din that was chaotic. "Stand back boys!" exclaimed one of the firemen. "We want to run a hose in that gate."

The boys made room and were now joined by Bob.

"Can we go in?" asked Jerry. "We'll keep well back."

The gate in front of which they stood gave access to the mill yard, at a point quite a distance from the fire.

"I guess it won't do any harm," answered the fireman who was a good natured man. "But keep well back in case the walls fall. We don't want any one to get hurt."

"We'll be careful," promised Jerry, and the boys followed the fire-fighter within the gate, helping him drag the hose, which was twisting and turning like a snake trying to get loose, so strong was the water pressure.

At last the fury of the fire seemed to have spent itself. The flames died down and all that remained to do was to wet down the ruins thoroughly to prevent any sparks from flying to other departments of the mill. The blaze had been confined to the building where it started, and, in spite of the excitement over it, the damage had been small.

"I'm glad it didn't get into my office," remarked Mr. Judson, the mill owner, who had arrived on the scene soon after the fire started. "All my valuable books and papers would have been destroyed."

"Yes, you got off pretty lucky," said the chief.

"Thanks to the hard work you and your men did," Mr. Judson replied. "I won't forget it, I assure you."

"We only did our duty," responded the chief modestly. "It's our business to put out fires."

There was not much more of interest to see, and the three boys, as did a number of others, began to think of going home.

Ned, Jerry and Bob started from the mill yard. As they passed a pile of lumber near the gate Ned gave one of the boards a careless kick. There was a rattling sound and a small round object rolled out at his feet.

"What's that?" asked Jerry.

"Look's like a tin can," observed Bob.

Ned picked it up to examine it better, for it was now quite dark, the fire giving only a faint glow.

"Look at this!" Ned cried, holding out the object.

"It's a burglar's dark lantern!" exclaimed Bob. "I saw one just like it that the police took from a thief. It is over to police headquarters."

"Wonder who put it there?" asked Jerry.

"It's hard to --" began Ned, and then he stopped. Dropping to his knees he reached his hand into the hole from whence the dark lantern had rolled. He groped around a few seconds and then drew out his hand.

"I've found 'em," he said.

"What?" asked Jerry.

"The things I was looking for," and Ned held up to view in the faint gleam from the burned building a cold chisel and a hammer.

"What are they for?" asked Bob, not seeing the connection of the dark lantern and the tools just found.

"These are the things the mill safe was robbed with," replied Ned. "The lantern made the light that puzzled me that night I came past, and with this cold chisel and hammer the lock was cut out. The thief must have hidden the things under the boards as he ran away with the money. It was on his route as he passed out of the gate."

"This mill robbery seems to follow us," observed Jerry. "Every once in a while something about it crops out."

"Yes," commented Ned. "I saw the robbery being committed, or rather I was there while it was being done, we learned about the queer bank bill and Noddy's connection with it, and now we have discovered the tools that were used."

"All we need to do next is to recover the money," said Bob.

"And find the thief," said Ned.

"I fancy that won't be difficult to do," added Bob. "If Noddy --"

"Hush!" exclaimed Ned. "some one is coming ! Let's get out of here!"

Hurriedly Ned hid under his coat the lantern, the hammer and chisel, and the three boys passed out of the mill yard.

"What are you chaps doin' here?" demanded a rough voice, and Bill Berry shuffled up, looking sharply at first one and then another.

"We were watching the fire," replied Ned politely. "Any objections, Mr. Berry?"

"You boys better keep away from here," growled Bill. "I reckon Mr. Judson don't want another robbery."

"What do you mean?" demanded Jerry. "Do you mean that we robbed the mill?"

"Well you might and then agin you mightn't," mumbled Bill. "I ain't sayin' as how you did, and I ain't sayin' as how you didn't. You'd better move on."

"We've as much right here as you have, Bill Perry," said Bob. "We're ready to go and we're going; all you may say wouldn't move us, as long as Mr. Judson didn't object to our being here."

"That'll do for you," muttered Bill, as he shuffled away.

"Did you catch the horse and win the five dollars?" inquired Jerry, referring to the country man's fractious steed that ran away.

Bill's only answer was a growl.

"Come on, let's get home and go to bed," suggested Bob.

"Take good care of those tools," warned Jerry. Ned promised to do so; and there the talk came to an end.

CHAPTER XV.

NED UNDER SUSPICION.

It was quite early in the morning some days later when Bob called at Jerry's house.

"Hello, Chunky!" greeted Jerry as he came to the door, having finished a bountiful breakfast. "What's up now?"

"Thought maybe you might like to take a ride off in the country," replied the stout youth, panting a bit from having to push his motor up the little incline leading to his chum's front door.

"Nothing would suit me better," said the male representative of the Hopkins family. "Where is it to this time?"

"What do you say to a trip over to Limestone Creek? We can go fishing.

"I'm with you. Ned will go, of course?"

"Yes, he is waiting."

Mrs. Slade, on Ned's request, had the cook put up a basket of bread and butter, some cake and cheese, which Bob fastened to his machine. Then, the fishing tackle having been stowed away on Jerry's motor the three chums started off.

Limestone Creek was a stream about ten miles from Cresville. It was a noted fishing place, and many a fat chub or speckled trout had been pulled from the sparkling waters. It was a hot August day, but the boys did not mind the burning rays of the sun. Part of the way they rode along under big trees that gave a refreshing shade, and occasionally there was a little breeze to cool them off.

"Here we are," cried Jerry at length as he turned his machine from the main road, into a narrow path that led through a green field to the brook. "This way to the fishing banks!"

"Yes, and if you yell that way all the fish will be scared away," expostulated Ned. "Make a little less noise if you want any luck."

"Good idea," chimed in Bob. He soon had the lines in shape, and then, taking out his knife, cut a slim willow pole that would serve excellently for fishing. The others followed his example, and soon all three were sitting on the grassy bank, while the cork floats bobbed lightly in the swirl of the eddy which formed the "old fishing hole."

Luck was good with the young disciples of Isaak Walton, and they soon had a dozen choice fish among them. Then, as the sun was high in the sky, and it was hot sitting on the bank, the boys adjourned to the shade of the tree where they had left their cycles.

"Now for dinner!" cried Bob.

"Let's draw lots to see who makes the fire, who cleans the fish and who cooks them," suggested Ned.

Ten minutes later an appetizing aroma filled the summer air.

"Ah! Maybe that ain't good!" cried Bob.

"Beats restaurants all to pieces!" was Ned's opinion.

Then with the bread and butter they had brought along, with the seasoning for the fish, fresh crullers and cheese, the whole washed down with water from a clear cool spring near by, the boys made a meal that even a king might have envied.

Dinner over they lolled lazily beneath the trees until the sun was low in the west. Bob proposed a walk along the creek as he wanted to see if there were any evidences of musk-rats nests in a certain place.

"Will it be safe to leave the machines here?" asked Jerry. "Some one might come along and ride off with them."

"It would take more than one person to get away with all three," Bob said. "But we can take out the spark plugs, and unless the thieves have duplicates along they won't get very far."

Removing the plugs, the boys walked along the stream for half a mile. They found no musk-rats nests, and Bob, remarking that they could come back another day and make a better search, proposed a return trip.

It did not take long to reach the places where they had left their machines. The spark plugs were put back, and, after finishing what few crullers remained, the three boys trundled their motors out into the path.

"Here goes for home!" cried Ned, as