"We've got lots to do, locating on a good campsite, remember, fellows; those sort of things don't grow on every bush, I tell you; so, come along," and Frank, as he spoke, let out another kink, the popping grew more furious, and away he shot up the road in a little cloud of dust, with Jerry at his rear, ready to take the lead as soon as there was any necessity for choosing at the forks.

"See anything of 'em, Frank?" wheezed Jerry a bit later, as he kept his machine close behind the leader; for somehow in this race for the campsite Frank just naturally forged to the front from mere force of habit.