CHAPTER IX

AN UNEXPECTED BLOW

For a moment it would have been hard to say which of them was more
completely staggered and amazed.

"What are you doing here?" Harry gasped, finally.

And then, all at once, it came over him that it did not matter what Ernest
answered; that there could be no reasonable and good explanation for what
he had caught Graves doing.

"You sneak!" he cried. "What are you doing here--spying on us?"

He sprang forward, and Graves, with a snarling cry of anger, lunged to meet
him. Had he not been handicapped by his lame ankle, Harry might have given
a good account of himself in a hand-to-hand fight with Graves, but, as it
was, the older boy's superior weight gave him almost his own way. Before
Jack, who was running up, could reach them, Graves threw Harry off. He
stood looking down on him for just a second.

"That's what you get for interfering, young Fleming!" he said. "There's
something precious queer about you, my American friend! I fancy you'll have
to do some explaining about where you've been to-night!"

Harry was struggling to his feet. Now he saw the papers in Graves' hand.

"You thief!" he cried. "Those papers belong to me! You've stolen them! Give
them here!"

But Graves only laughed in his face.

"Come and get them!" he taunted. And, before either of the scouts could
realize what he meant to do he had started one of the motorcycles, sprung
to the saddle, and started. In a moment he was out of sight, around a bend
in the road. Only the put-put of the motor, rapidly dying away, remained of
him. But, even in that moment, the two he left behind him were busy. Jack
sprang to the other motorcycle, and tried to start it, but in vain.
Something was wrong; the motor refused to start.

"That's what he was doing when I saw him first!" cried Harry, with a flash
of inspiration. "I thought it was Dick, trying to start his motor--but it
was Graves trying to keep us from starting it! But he can't have done very
much--I don't believe he had the time. We ought to be able to fix it pretty
soon."

"It's two miles to the repair place!" said Jack, blankly.

"Not to this repair shop," said Harry, with a laugh. The need of prompt and
efficient action pulled him together. He forgot his wonder at finding
Graves, the pain of his ankle, everything but the instant need of being
busy. He had to get that cycle going and be off in pursuit; that was all
there was to it.

"Give me a steady light,"