"Get out of my way, Dick Morrison!" The boy who had been trudging along the narrow road looked up in surprise at hearing himself spoken to so suddenly, though he recognized the domineering voice even before catching sight of the speaker. "You already have half of the road, Ferd Graylock; to give you more I'd have to back down in the ditch, and I don't care to do that," he replied, standing perfectly still and watching with some amusement the zigzag movements of the other, now close upon him. Ferd was mounted on a new motor-cycle, purchased with savings out of his pocket money, and with which machine he had been of late scouring the surrounding country. Evidently the little motor had broken down while he was some distance away from home, necessitating considerable walking up hill and hard pedalling on the levels.