Roy little understood Rodney Grant, who invariably
became all the more resolute and determined by opposition, and stood in
no danger of giving way to his fiery temper, except when met by buffets
of physical force in the form of personal violence.

Reaching home, Hooker went out behind the stable and plugged away at
the white shingle until supper time, fancying he was gaining some skill
in accuracy, although it seemed almost impossible to score a hit or
come near it when he used a curve.

Supper over, he looked for Rackliff to appear. "He'll be around pretty
soon, so I'll just take a short ride and come back."

In the carriage house he stopped, his undershot jaw drooping; for the
motorcycle was missing from the stand on which it was always kept, when
not in use. "What the dickens----" he cried, and stopped short.

After looking all around to make sure the machine was not there, he
rushed into the house and questioned his mother.

"It _must_ be there, Roy," she said. "I'm sure nobody has touched it.
I would have heard them."

"But it isn't there," he shouted. "Somebody has stolen it." Then he
caught his breath, struck by a sudden thought. "Has Herbert Rackliff
been around here to-day?" he asked.

"I haven't seen him, but I hope you don't think your friend would take
your motorcycle without----"

He did not wait to hear any more. Rushing out of the house, he had
reached the sidewalk when, to his unspeakable relief, round the corner
from Willow Street came Rackliff, somewhat dust-covered and perspiring,
trundling the motorcycle. Hooker glared at him.

"What do you mean by taking my machine without asking?" he rasped.
"Where have you been with it?"

"My dear old pal," said Herbert soothingly, "do give me time to get my
breath, and then I'll seek to conciliate you with a full explanation.
I've had to push this confounded thing for at least five miles, and I'm
pretty near pegged out. It stopped on me on my way home."

"Five miles?" snapped Roy, taking the machine from the limp and weary
city boy. "Where in blazes have you been with it?"

But not until he had seated himself to rest in the carriage house, and
lighted a cigarette, did Rackliff offer any further explanation.
Finally, with a little cough and a tired sigh, he smiled on the still
frowning and outraged owner of the machine.

"You didn't see me around school this afternoon, did you?" he asked.

"No. I wondered where you were."

"I was out