“A puncture, Frank?” demanded Jerry, who had been in the rear.

“Not at all.  I thought I heard some one shouting.  Perhaps I was mistaken, for with a lot of motors popping away it’s hard to be sure.  Still, we can stop for a minute and listen,” remarked Frank seriously.

“Shouting—­for help?” repeated Will, looking around nervously.

“That’s queer,” cried Bluff, “that we seldom go out anywhere but what somebody calls on us for assistance.  Think of it!  There was the town bully, Andy Lasher, who was caught under that falling tree in the storm, and rescued by Jerry.”

“That’s a fact; and then there was Jed, the bound boy, you remember, fellows,” went on Will eagerly.

“Not to mention the saving of the aeronaut from the burning hotel by Frank, here; and last, but not least, our giving that little Joe the glad hand down South,” observed Jerry, joining in with enthusiasm.

“Yes, but there are a few rescues you seem to forget, Jerry.  How about that time when the wild dogs had you chasing around the tree?” asked Bluff, grinning.

“Oh, that isn’t in the same class.  You forget that I got out of that scrape by my own exertions,” replied the other.

“But there was another time when we hauled you out of a hollow tree in which you found yourself caged.  You didn’t crawl out of there alone and unaided, if I remember right,” persisted Will.

“Some things are better buried in oblivion.  You and your camera want to remind a fellow constantly of events that ought to be forgotten.  But Frank, that must have been an owl you heard.  I haven’t caught any call for help yet.”

“Perhaps we’d better go on, then.  Look out how you mount here, for it’s a hard proposition, Jerry, with these roots and stones.”

Frank had just started to move forward with his own motorcycle, when all of them heard a sound issuing from the woods alongside the “tote” road.

“Help! help!”

They looked at each other.

“Somebody’s in trouble there.  Who can it be?” said Frank as he leaned his machine up against a tree, as though eager to hasten to the assistance of the one who had cried out.

“No hunters around at this time of year,” remarked Will as he followed suit.

“And the loggers have been gone some months,” went on Bluff.

“Tell me about that, now!  It wasn’t a child’s voice, or I might think a kid had got lost up here.  Perhaps some man has cut himself badly with his ax,” suggested Jerry.

“Or dropped down into some old abandoned mine shaft,” spoke up Frank, with a wink toward Will; for one of the chums had gone through with just such an experience during one of their outings, and had to be rescued.

“Shall we all go?” demanded Bluff, given to caution.

“Why not?  Nothing can happen to our machines here.  For one, I decline to stay out of the rescuing party.  Besides, perhaps I may get a chance to snap off a lovely picture of the Good Samaritans at work.”