A nervous hand gripped the sleeve of Elmer's jacket.

Nat was trembling with suspense; and doubtless Toby, on the other hand, was almost as badly off. Elmer had come to a halt as the sound of that voice reached them; but it was for only a fraction of a minute. He knew that it was policy on their part to creep up, foot by foot; because, when Lil Artha wanted help he would need it in a hurry. If they were too far away perhaps those energetic Fairfield plotters might be able to throw the tall lad into the car, and start going; when, as Nat might have expressed it, "the fat would be in the fire."

"Why, hello! Who's that?" they heard Lil Artha reply, in the most natural tone any fellow could display.

Of course he ought to show surprise at being suddenly hailed from the bushes so far away from home, and by some one familiar with his name.

Evidently the quartette at that came out of hiding and surrounded the tall lad; for his next exclamation seemed to announce this fact.

"Four of you, hey? Well, this is nice of you, boys, to come all this way just to give me a good word of cheer!" he remarked.

"Hold up, don't be in such a hurry to get along, Lil Artha," said one who seemed to be the leader of the lot.

"But how do I know how close some other fellow may be on my heels!" remarked the tall lad; although he evidently did not make any further attempt to brush past them.

"Say, that's just it!" declared the unknown, who, no doubt, had his hat pulled down over his face, and depended on this, as well as the gathering gloom of approaching night, to conceal his identity. "There is a Fairfield fellow hot on your trail, and he's bound to beat you out, because he's got his second wind."

"Yes," spoke up another, quickly, chuckling at the same time; "that's what we're bothered about, Lil Artha. We just can't bear the idea of you being beat to a frazzle by Felix Wagner."

"But I don't mean to be, you know, boys," expostulated the tall boy. "Little Falls ain't mor'n nine miles ahead; and if Felix has got his second wind, I'm in the same boat myself. Count on me to get there ahead of him, fellows!"

"But you might have an accident, stub your toe or something like that," declared the leader of the opposition.

"So might Felix," remarked Lil Artha, cheerfully.

"Yes, that's so," came the reply; "but you don't know the luck of that Dutchman. Everything comes his way, Lil Artha."

"Well, this hike won't, bet you a cookey!" remarked the other, stubbornly.

"He's right behind you, and coming like a house afire."

"Then what in the dickens are you keeping me waiting here for?" demanded Lil Artha, indignantly.

"I'll tell you," replied the leader of the four, mysteriously.

"Hurry up, then, and let me go ahead," ordered the tall lad.

"We've been talking it over, you see," began the other.

"It's plain enough that talking is something in your trade," commented Lil Artha, bitterly; and Elmer heard Toby alongside him chuckle softly, as though he might be enjoying these caustic remarks of their tall chum mightily.

"And we've come to a conclusion, Lil Artha," went on the other, as though he was not to be moved by any thrusts from the tongue of the contestant.

"All right. Glad you've come to something. Hurry up and spit it out, and then give me a clear road, won't you?" the one who was being held up remarked, sharply.

"The honor of good old Hickory Ridge is at stake," continued the unknown, in a solemn tone that suggested graveyards and all that sort of thing, Chatz Maxfield would have declared.

"Sure it is, and if you don't let up on this business it'll go aglimmering. I want to walk, I tell you," declared Lil Artha.

"Hold on, now. Easy, Lil Artha. We represent a committee of the Hickory Ridge boys, and have been sent out to make dead sure that you win this big hike; d'ye get on to that, now?"

"Well, it sounds all right, but for the life of me I can't place you among all the fellows I know," returned Lil Artha, suspiciously.

"Never mind about that; it don't cut any figure in the matter at all. Fact is, none of us want you to know us. Then you won't be able to give the game away."

"Game? What's that mean?" demanded the other. "Open up here, and show your hand, won't you?"

"We want to help you on your weary way, Lil Artha."

"With cheery words and all that?" queried the one addressed, with something of a sneer showing in his tone.

"Shucks! Something that counts better than cheery words. We've got a bully old car right here, Lil Artha. You can see it if you look."

"Well, I see it all right," returned the Hickory Ridge scout; "but what's that got to do with a fellow that's on a long walk, and anxious to get to the end of his journey, tell me that?"

"Huh, a heap, Lil Artha; and you must be silly not to see through a grindstone that's got such a big hole in it. What's a car made for, anyway?" demanded the leader of the ambushing party, while his comrades laughed harshly.

"Look here, what're you hinting at?" asked Lil Artha. "You don't want me to get in there with you, I hope?"

"Plenty of room for six, and there's only four along, Lil Artha."

"But I don't need any help that way," protested the tall boy, angrily. "I tell you I'm good for hours of hard grind yet. Not one chance in sixty of me losing out to that Felix Wagner. I don't care what sort of a hustle he's got on him. Just you clear the track, and watch my smoke, that's all."

"But we fellows of Hickory Ridge don't want to take the chances. Here's a bully opening for you to be carried along five miles in as many minutes. Then we'll set you down, and you can finish the hike into Little Falls as fresh as a daisy. You'll do it, Lil Artha, of course you will?"

"Of course I won't, and you hear me warble at that!" roared the tall boy, furiously. "What's more, I don't believe a single one of you live in Hickory Ridge. Just let me strike a match and have a look at your faces. Then perhaps I'll believe you mean honest, even if I can't take up your offer."

There was a slight scuffle at this. Evidently Lil Artha had attempted to put his suggestion into practice; but a ready hand had knocked the match out of his grasp just as he struck it. There was a sudden gleam of light, and then darkness again.

"No, you don't, old fellow," said a voice that was now tinged with anger. "None of that funny business goes with us, does it, boys?"

"Nixey, not this time," replied one.

"Quit kidding, and make him be good," growled another, who plainly had tired of the game as far as it had gone and wanted to be on the move.

"What's this mean?" demanded Lil Artha, just as though he could not as yet get the true facts through his fuddled brain.

"The bird that can sing and won't, must be made to sing, they say," growled the fellow who seemed to take the lead in the abduction game.

"Grab him, boys, and jam him in the car; that's the only way!" burst out a second of the quartette.

"Hold on here, do you know what this means?" asked the one who was being threatened in this fashion. "It's an outrage to stop me like this. And when you say you're from Hickory Ridge, you lie, that's what! You're a bunch of Fairfield cowards, and you're only trying to make me break the rules of the game so that I can't win! I'm on to your dodge, and don't you forget it!"

A series of scornful laughs greeted these words. Evidently the hold-up fellows felt so very sure that they had things in their hands that they could afford to delay a little; just as the cat, not feeling particularly hungry, will play with the mouse that has been maimed.

"Listen to him, will you?" jeered one.

"He's on, all right, fellows," exclaimed another; "he sees through the dodge, does Lil Artha. Oh, ain't it a great thing to be a scout, and use your brains! But all the same, we don't expect to let our big friend have his way, do we, boys?"

Of course they were clustered around the Hickory Ridge scout, cutting off all avenues of escape, even if Lil Artha should conceive the idea of running away.

"Not much, we don't," echoed another.

"Keep your hands off me now, I warn you all!" shouted the tall boy, aggressively; but in reality his words were intended to inform Elmer, Toby and Nat just how far events had progressed, so that they might arrange their movements accordingly.

"Are you going to get aboard?" demanded the leader, harshly.

"You mean of my own free will?" asked Lil Artha, fighting for a little time, so that he could make sure of having his chums come up for the crisis.

"Yes, climb in, Lil Artha!"

"I refuse; and defy the whole bunch of you. I'm going to stick to the rules of the game; and you can't make me change my mind. Bah!" the tall scout shouted.

"Tackle him, and if he fights back, don't be too gentle with the big cub. He's going to be carried five miles and more, whether he wants to go or not!"

As the leader snapped this out there were heard sounds of a scuffle. No need of daylight to tell those who were crouching so close at hand what was taking place.

Grunts and low exclamations told that Lil Artha was doing his level best to resist the onslaught of the four Fairfield rowdies.

Still, the tall scout from the Ridge was only a boy after all; and if those opposed to him were less lengthy, that was no reason they lacked in physical powers. And left to himself, there could have been no doubt in the world but that after a gallant resistance Lil Artha would have found himself bundled into the car, possibly bearing numerous cuts and contusions on his body as mute witnesses to the fight he had put up.

And once they had him in the tonneau, three could hold him tight while the other fellow started the machine. After that it would have been "one, two, three," in the language of Lil Artha himself, so far as his right to claim the prize of the great hike was concerned.

There could be no doubt but that the boy who was thus attacked was following out the suggestions given by his patrol leader. This was made evident by the loud cries of the fellow whose voice proclaimed him as being the leader of the attacking squad.

"Pull him off, there, can't you?" he yelled. "He's hugging me like fun, and got his long arms twisted around my neck. Hi, there! somebody give him a jerk before he chokes me! Knock him in the ribs, and make him let go, fellows!"

Nothing could hold Nat Scott back after that. The sound of battle acted on him just as the smoke of burnt powder is said to affect a horse that is accustomed to the roar of mighty conflict.

Nor did Elmer have the slightest idea of trying to keep either of his chums in restraint longer. The crisis had arrived, and Lil Artha needed their help, lest he be bodily kidnaped and carried away in that car.

So they swiftly bore down upon the scene of the fracas. In the gathering darkness they could just manage to distinguish a group of wildly struggling figures; for Lil Artha had one of the ambushing party in his embrace, and the other three were vainly endeavoring to make him break his hold.

"Remember, one apiece!" Elmer said, as they arrived on the spot.

Up to that second none of the Fairfield fellows had the slightest suspicion that their miserable game had reached a snag. One happened to discover the coming of a single figure, and apparently the only thought that flashed through his mind was that the next nearest contestant had somehow managed to arrive on the spot ahead of scheduled time; for he immediately began to shout aloud:

"Keep your hands off, Felix; this is our job, and you don't want to know anything about it. Go right along the road now, and close your eyes and ears. You've got a snap, and a soft one at that. Here, let go of me, you fool! We're your friends, d'ye hear! Quit it, I tell you! Wow! What's this mean, fellows?" And the one who was making all this outcry suddenly changed his tune from indignation to fright, as he noticed other vigorous forms attacking his companions.