oung major.

"Well, we can't trust ourselves on these machines. We might if we had
lots of time, but that we haven't got."

The three cadets stared blankly at each other. Here they were on a
lonely road, and what to do none of them knew.

"Oh, if I only had Ritter here wouldn't I punch his head good!" muttered
Pepper.

"Ritter will keep. Let us look over the machines and make up our minds
what is to be done," said Jack.

The more they inspected the wheels the more hopeless appeared the task
of fixing them up so they could be used.

"We simply haven't got time to bother with them," announced Jack. "We've
got to get to the Lodge some other way."

"Well, what way?" asked Andy.

"I wonder if we could hire a rig at the next farmhouse."

"Well, we can try that," answered Pepper.

Trundling their bicycles, they hurried along the country road until they
reached a farmhouse.

"Looks as if they were all out or gone to bed," was Jack's comment, for
not a light showed about the place.

"We'll soon know," returned Pepper, and he pounded lustily on the front
door.

There was no answer to this summons, and he pounded again. But nobody
appeared.

"Gone away for the day, I guess," he said. "Now what?"

"Let us leave our wheels in the barn," said Jack. "We can come back for
them any time."

This they did, and after a look around the place, to make certain nobody
was there, they passed out on the road once more. Pepper looked at his
watch.

"Fifteen minutes to six," he announced.

"Oh, we'll never get there on time," groaned Andy.

"We'll be lucky if we get there at all to-night," answered the young
major.

"They are looking for us by now," came from Pepper. "Wonder what they
will think when we don't show up?"

"They'll think we are pretty mean, I guess," answered the acrobatic
youth.

"Here comes some kind of a turnout now!" cried Pepper.

He pointed down the highway. They could see a lantern swinging idly to
and fro. It was hung under a farm-wagon, and presently they saw the
turnout, drawn by a pair of good-looking horses. The wagon was filled
with barrels of potatoes, and on the seat sat a raw-boned old farmer,
half asleep.

"Hello, there!" challenged Jack out of the darkness. "Hold up a minute,
please!"

"Hi, what's this, a hold-up?" exclaimed the old farmer, and then of a
sudden he reached between the barrels of potatoes and brought forth a
long horse-pistol and pointed it at them.

"Don't shoot!