The Big Five Motorcycle Boys in Tennessee Wilds | Page 2

the order of Rod Bradley the magnificent sum of a thousand dollars, which was to be drawn upon from time to time, as their expenses for the care and maintenance of their machines, or a desire to take trips abroad, warranted.
When good fortune starts coming it often pours, and so it happened that Rod and his friends had been chiefly instrumental in following a pair of precious rogues who had broken into, and robbed the Garland bank, only a couple of weeks previous; and not only securing their arrest, but returning the stolen securities and cash intact.
For doing this they received a reward of five thousand dollars, which was split evenly with a farmer named Bijah Spruggins, who had rendered them great assistance in making the round-up.
So it may be readily seen that their treasury was full and overflowing, and that when Rod proposed they accompany their chum, Elmer Overton, who was bent on taking a flying trip down through Ohio and Kentucky, to his old home not a great distance from Chattanooga in southern Tennessee, every one of the others agreed to the plan, without a dissenting murmur; indeed, they were fairly wild about it, even Rooster, who was the poorest rider of the lot.
Possibly a word of explanation may not come in amiss regarding that strange cognomen that had been fastened upon the Boggs boy. Whenever Christopher felt in a happy frame of mind, or his team had accomplished something worth while, he invariably slapped his hands against his thighs, to make a sound like a rooster that has flown up on the upper rail of a fence flapping its wings, and then he would proceed to give the finest imitation of a crow ever heard. Under the circumstances it was a foregone conclusion that his schoolmates would quickly forget he ever had such a name as Christopher; and from that day until the end of the chapter he must answer to the suggestive one of "Rooster."
They had not attempted anything like great speed while on the trip. Indeed, save when passing over those fine roads in the celebrated Blue Grass country in Central Kentucky such a thing would have been practically impossible; for as a rule they passed over very poor thoroughfares, where it seemed next to a miracle that the clumsy rider, Rooster, had not come to grief more than once.
Up to now they had managed to strike a town or village when night came on, and so found accommodations at a tavern. But this promised to be an experience of a different character; for Josh had discovered something wrong with his machine, that would necessitate immediate attention; and when Rod proposed that they camp out for a change, every fellow eagerly agreed.
They had come prepared for such an undertaking in-so-far as having the means for gratifying their desire for food went, though without tent or blankets. But then the weather was warm, and they could keep their camp- fire going, if they felt disposed.
And so Rod had halted them near a little stream that gurgled along the side of the road, and which promised to supply water for their coffee. Each one had something securely hidden away in his bundle that, when brought to light, seemed to promise a fairly decent supper.
"Here's the coffee-pot, and inside of it a package of the best Java we could buy in old Cincinnati as we came through!" called out Josh, as he started to undo his package.
"And this frying-pan looks like it just wanted to get busy right away with these slices of fine juicy ham!" echoed Rooster.
Each of the others announced the finding of certain articles of food, which were placed near where the fire had already been kindled by Rod.
Soon the scene was a bustling one, with each of the boys trying to do what they could to hasten the cooking of supper -- all but Josh, who was kneeling alongside his motorcycle and apparently starting to get to work remedying the fault that had been giving him anxiety.
"Say, this is about as lonely a place as ever I saw," remarked Rooster, who was perhaps somewhat more timid than any of the others, though no coward, when it came right down to it.
"And we'd better keep some sort of watch to-night, I should say," declared Hanky Panky, as he tossed five apples up in the air, and kept them spinning in an endless procession from one hand to the other, until they seemed to be a part of a wheel.
"Because," went on Rooster, "them woods look like they might harbor a wildcat, or p'raps a moonshiner that'd take a fancy to our wheels."
"Which, the wildcat or the mountain-dew maker?" asked Elmer, laughingly.
Rooster was about to make some sort of witty reply, when suddenly a gruff voice