Then they made a turn, and discovered three boys in full flight ahead.
"There they are!" cried Jerry, in excitement.
"How far ahead is the spring?" called Frank.
"About half a mile, I reckon."
"Good! Then the game is ours, barring accidents!"
The three fellows ahead kept turning around every dozen seconds, as if worried at the rapid approach of the others.
"Keep your eyes peeled; they're hatching up some sort of mischief!" called Frank, who knew the signs.
He saw that the others began to wobble in their movements, which was plain evidence that they had tired themselves out by their night tramp, and were in no condition to compete with the motorcycles, even on this rough stretch of road.
The tall, athletic-looking leader of the trio suddenly jumped aside, and stooped over as if snatching something from the ground.
"'Ware, hawks!" shouted Bluff, who had noted this maneuver.
It could now be easily seen that Pet Peters had fastened upon quite a cumbersome branch of a fallen tree, and his purpose was manifest when he stepped out as if to drop it across the road, meaning to wreck the machines as they swept on.
