way to Little Falls before to-morrow morning; poor fellows, don't I pity them, though!" the girl went on. "Elmer would have been in the game too, only for that ugly thorn in his foot. And don't you think he would surely have won the prize, Landy, if he had competed?"

"Oh, nearly everyone believes that," replied the fat boy, readily; "though to tell the truth, there never has been a hike like this around here before, and we don't just know who's got the Injun sign on the rest of the bunch. Between you and me, Elsie, I'm pinning some faith on George Robbins. You know he's my cousin, and he's got some of the old Philander Smith stock in him. The record of my family is a proud one"; and he drew himself up as he inflated his chest with a pompous air that would have well become the drum major of the town band.

"To be sure, Landy," remarked the little miss, quickly; "and it covers a lot of ground, too. Why, even in history we come across it every now and then. But, Landy, how will it be known that the six contestants keep to the route that has been laid out for them? Some one might look up a map and find a road that would be a short cut. That would be an unfair advantage."

"Sure it would," remarked the boy; "and it was just to prevent knowledge and craft from winning when this was to be a question of speed and endurance, Mr. Garrabrant says, that made the committee insist on stations along the way."

"Stations? Whatever do you mean by that?" Elsie demanded.

"Well, they picked out a number of taverns where one of the scouts who goes on ahead with Mr. Garrabrant will establish a register. In that book every fellow in the great hike is expected to enter his name in his own handwriting, also the time of his arrival and departure."

"Oh, now I understand; and Landy, that is a clever idea!" the girl exclaimed. "But Elmer intends setting out on his wheel later on in the day; will you please tell me what reason there is for that, Landy?"

"Oh, it was arranged by the committee, that's all. Several of the fellows will go from time to time. Sort of keep tabs on the contestants and see how they are getting on. I expected to be chosen to be one of these inspectors, but I had a little accident yesterday that knocked me out. But all the fellows said that the game old Philander Smith spirit cropped out, and that few boys could have held on up in that tree as long as I did."

But if sly Landy expected in this manner to lead the conversation into a personal line, so that he could glorify his own prowess, he made a mistake. Evidently the pretty little miss with the golden locks and the blue eyes had no desire to hear about his wonderful escape.

"How will the six contestants get anything to eat on the way?" she asked.

"Oh, that's left to them," answered the fat boy, frowning with disappointment over the failure of his attempt to rivet her attention on himself. "They can stop and have a meal at any old tavern; but I reckon most of the fellows are wise to the fact that they must lose valuable time that way. I know George has a snack stowed away in his haversack right now. He's on to all the dodges, you know."

"Why, of course he is, because he is your cousin, Landy. But suppose one of the poor fellows breaks down? It's a terrible long trip, and all sorts of things might happen, don't you think?" Elsie continued.

"Not much danger of that, I guess," Landy answered. "You see every one of them had to undergo a physical examination before Mr. Garrabrant would allow them to enter; and they're all as fit as fiddles. Of course we don't expect that after they've put, say twenty miles, behind them they'll be as chipper as they are now. Their feet will drag more or less; but that's where the grit must show."

"They expect to start all at the same time, then?" asked the girl.

"Sure, but after a mile or so they'll be likely to separate. One will believe the pace too warm for the start, and drop back. You know they say it's a bad thing to urge your horse early in a long race. All sorts of ideas will prevail, so that long before the first ten miles have been covered the six boys may be far apart, and each trudging along to suit his ideas."

"How much you know about all these things, Landy!" said Elsie, with a twinkle in her sunny eyes that he failed to catch; for he again stiffened up with that superior air that boys are apt to assume when explaining the science of baseball or some other manly sport to a girl who has never attended a game before.

"Oh, well, we just have to, you see, if we ever expect to make good scouts," he replied, thinking that after all Elsie was even a little prettier than her chum, when she chose to smile on a fellow that way. "And besides, we pick up a lot of information from our scout master, and Elmer, who knows all about woodcraft, because he lived out on the big plains. But it must be getting near time for the start, because they're lining up now. Let's push ahead so we can see what happens."

Despairing of getting away while the persistent little maid continued to seek information, Landy was now hedging, and content to carry her along with him as he pushed through the crowd of talking, laughing spectators.

The clock in the church tower pointed to two minutes of six. And at the first stroke of the hour they were expected to be off.

Six boys stood in line, eager and expectant. Their particular friends called out encouraging words, and there was a perfect babel of confusion about this time. But Mr. Garrabrant anticipating such a happening, had spoken the last words of caution. So that there was now nothing to be done but wait for the loud boom of the big clock in the tower.

"Good luck, Lil Artha!"

"Keep that good left foot of yours going right along, George!"

"Red, we're counting on you to win out, remember!"

"That's Ty Collins on the extreme left; just you watch his smoke!"

"Take it easy, Matty! You know the rules of the game, old fellow!"

"Jack, don't you ever come around again unless you bring that prize with you!"

This last created a roar of laughter, as one of the scouts imitated the voice of a girl whom everyone knew Jack Armitage was sweet on.

One minute of six!

Gradually this clamor died down as the critical minute drew closer and closer. Many eyes were turned upon the big face of the clock on the side of the square tower of the church.

"Ready, all!" they heard Mr. Garrabrant call out.

Then came a deathly silence. Everyone craned his or her neck, and the figures of the six contestants who wore the khaki garments of the Boy Scouts proved to be the hub of all glances.

Some of the boys looked grim and determined; others, like tall Lil Artha, wore confident smiles, as though they believed in their hearts that it would be an easy snap. But all were evidently primed to do their level best, no matter what the final result.

Ah! There was a whirring sound up in the tower. Well did the boys know that the big clock always emitted this seeming gasp just before the striking of the hour. Then came a reverberating boom!

It was time.

"Hurrah!" yelled the crowd, as hats and handkerchiefs filled the air; "they're off!"

"And may the best man win!" said the smiling scout master, looking after the fast walking line of contestants.

CHAPTER IV.