Part 4 (1/2)

”I wonder whether those two tramps. .h.i.t the high places, and got out of this neighborhood for keeps?” Bluff was saying, after they had mounted and were bowling along merrily toward town.

”The chances are that way. That tramp printer must be a bad sort of chap, it seems to me, and if Hank keeps along in his society I can see his finish,” answered Jerry over his shoulder.

They had not made more than a mile when once more Frank gave a quick toot of his horn that brought the little procession up in a hurry.

”What ails us now?” demanded Bluff.

”Frank's bending over something in the road, as sure as you live!”

called Will.

”Tell me about that, will you! Seems as if our lively times haven't stopped yet. It never rains but it pours, fellows. Hi! Frank, what's the matter? Say! Would you believe it? There's a man lying in the road!”

Jerry made haste to push his heavy motorcycle forward so as to reach the side of his kneeling chum.

”It's Hank Brady, boys, and he seems to be in a bad way. Something has happened to him since we saw him last,” said Frank, looking up.

”Goodness gracious! Is he dead?” gasped Will, his eyes dilating in horror.

”I don't know yet, but I'm going to find out,” replied Frank, bending over so that he could press his ear upon the breast of the man in the road.

”And that tramp printer, where's he at?” asked Jerry suggestively. ”Tell me that, will you?”

CHAPTER IV

STARTING HANK RIGHT

”He's alive, all right!” was the announcement of Frank presently.

”I hear water close by. Hold on, and I'll get some,” said Will hurrying away.

Even Jerry was desirous of helping as best he could. He took hold with Frank, and the insensible Hank was carried alongside the road, to where some gra.s.s grew, and offered a softer resting place.

Had it been a friend who was thus in need of succor, they could hardly have shown more energy in attending to his wants.

”He's coming to,” said Bluff after Frank had sprinkled the scratched face with some of the cold water.

There was a deep sigh, then Frank saw that the fellow's eyes had opened, and were surveying him with a troubled stare.

”Feeling better, Hank?” he asked quietly.

”Oh, I'm all right, I reckon. What brought you fellows here? Where am I, anyhow? Did I just drop off that motorcycle? No. I remember, now.

Flimsy took the last cent I had while I lay in the road. The meanest skunk I ever met up with. If ever he crosses my path again I'll get even with the cur,” he growled, sitting up and holding a hand to his head.

”What happened to you, Hank? Why were you lying in the road? Did you have a fight with that tramp printer?” asked Frank, suspecting the truth.

”Yes. I told him I was sick of keeping with him. He's a bad one, and some fine day he'll land in the stone jug. He scared me the way he talked. I started to tramp back home, and he kept nagging me all the way here. In the end he made me so mad I just tackled him. That was what he wanted. Why, he put me to sleep the easiest way you ever saw. I just remember him fumbling in my pockets before he hoofed it.”

”Well, it was a lucky thing for you, Hank, after all. If you'd kept with that rascal you'd soon have been just like him. Did you say you meant to go back home now?”