s 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 grass 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 fin