The Outdoor Chums After Big Game | Page 7

about five feet
away.
Jerry instantly took occasion to possess himself of the same. The man
was nursing his wounded arm and muttering to himself, his face
screwed up with pain.
"Talk to me about your quick work! What could beat that, fellows?"
cried Jerry as he stood over the grunting and disgusted rascal who had
attempted to hold them off.
"What had we better do with 'em?" asked Bluff, frowning at the several
scratches upon his machine caused by the accident.
"Any damage done?" asked Frank.
"Well, this man here has a sore arm, I guess; and the one you're sitting
on looks as if his face might be a map, from the scratches," replied
Jerry.
"Oh! I mean the machines," laughed Frank.
"Nothing serious here. How about yours, Will?" answered Bluff.
"Mine seems to be all right. They weren't going fast enough to cause a
real wreck. A little paint will fix it up," was the answer Will made.

"Do you know either of these fellows?" went on Frank.
The boys took a better look at the men.
"Why, the one with the scratched face is Hank Brady, I'm sure. He used
to live in Centerville. The other is a stranger to me," remarked Bluff.
"Well, I've seen him before. He was working in the office of the town
paper as a tramp compositor a week ago. I suppose he got uneasy, and
wanted to be on the move again, and seeing a fine chance for hooking a
couple of motorcycles, they yielded to temptation. If we took them
back they'd be locked up for this little job," observed Frank sternly.
"I hope you won't do anything of the kind, kids," said the fellow whose
arm had been stung by Bluff's stick. "We only wanted to have a lark
with you. Sure you don't think we'd be fools enough to run away with
such valuable things as them motorcycles, when the telephone would
get us at the next town? It was done for fun, but I reckon we paid the
piper, all right," and he scowled at Bluff as he spoke, nursing his arm as
though it were still painful.
Frank laughed. He was not of a vindictive nature. Besides, it did seem
as though the two fellows had been punished enough already.
"No matter, it was a mean trick, and you deserve all you got. Get up,
Hank. You took a lovely cropper that time. Where did you learn how to
run a motorcycle?" he asked, helping the prisoner to his feet.
"I was a chauffeur a little time back. Sure we never thought to run off
with the gas-wheels. Saw you comin' along, and Flimsy said it would
be a good joke to make you fellers think somebody was sick in the
woods. Then, when we seen you all go by, I said to him, 'Let's run a
couple of them machines down the road a bit, just to tease the boys.'
Flimsy he rode one once in his travels, and so we jumped on. The rest
is history, and I got the map that goes along with it, on me face."
"What say, boys? Shall we let it pass?" asked Frank, winking at his
chums.

Jerry, for reply, started to fire the revolver he held, until the entire six
shots had been discharged.
"Here! Take your gun, mister, and next time don't be so quick to pull it
on a stranger. Think what would happen to you if you'd fired and hit
one of us? Some time you may even be glad that Bluff, here, was so
quick with his stick."
He handed the empty weapon over to the tramp printer, who let his
head fall, as though really ashamed of his action.
The boys started back to where the other machines had been left, while
the two men slunk into the shelter of the woods, to patch up their hurts
as best they might.
"Say! that was a queer ending to a rescue, wasn't it?" asked Bluff.
"I only hope my picture comes out all right. It ought to show Frank
sitting on top of Hank, while Bluff and Jerry surround the other tramp,
who is on his knees, aiming his old gun. Then my machine is lying
there. Fellows, what need of words to explain what happened?"
chuckled the gratified Will.
Whenever he succeeded in securing a coveted picture the ardent
photographer was the happiest boy in the county. His pleasure caused
him to fairly bubble over with good nature.
"Tell me about that, will you!" said Jerry, pretending to scorn such an
exhibition of joy over so trivial a matter. "Why, you'd think the chap
had knocked over some big game, to hear him chatter."
"And so he had," declared Frank quickly, "according to