Frank laughed. He was not of a vindictive nature. Besides, it did seem
as though the two fellows had been punished enough already.
"No matter, it was a mean trick, and you deserve all you got. Get up,
Hank. You took a lovely cropper that time. Where did you learn how to
run a motorcycle?" he asked, helping the prisoner to his feet.
"I was a chauffeur a little time back. Sure we never thought to run off
with the gas-wheels. Saw you comin' along, and Flimsy said it would be a
good joke to make you fellers think somebody was sick in the woods.
Then, when we seen you all go by, I said to him, 'Let's run a couple of
them machines down the road a bit, just to tease the boys.' Flimsy he
rode one once in his travels, and so we jumped on. The rest is history,
and I got the map that goes along with it, on me face."
"What say, boys? Shall we let it pass?" asked Frank, winking at his
chums.
Jerry, for reply, started to fire the revolver he held, until the
entire six shots had been discharged.
"Here! Take your gun, mister, and next time don't be so quick to pull it
on a stranger.
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