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Updated: July 28, 2025
The young Maharaja of Kasimbazar and my brother Bishnu headed the reception committee; I was unprepared for the warmth and magnitude of our welcome. Preceded by a line of automobiles and motorcycles, and amidst the joyous sound of drums and conch shells, Miss Bletch, Mr. Wright, and myself, flower-garlanded from head to foot, drove slowly to my father's home.
But Soames rose and dressed with many forebodings. Fran would not meet him. Soames had given warning of traps and close hunting. But Fran would not meet him. It looked bad. He bought a second-hand motorcycle at ten o'clock in the morning. He knew motorcycles. By three in the afternoon he threaded through the traffic of Bluevale.
Several of the boys found room for themselves on the running board; the others went on their motorcycles, which were to be brought back in the car, for there was no safe place in camp for such things.
The ground below them, a vast level plain, was dotted all over its flat surface with automobiles, men and women on horseback, and boys and men on motorcycles, but fast as the people following the aeroplanes drove their various means of progression, the sky clippers flew along even faster.
Had the road been half-way decent, the boys would have had no chance of overtaking the thieves; but those exposed roots, while not bothersome to the lumbermen, proved extremely so to the men who were trying to make off with the motorcycles. They dared not put on great speed.
Here are Uncle Sam's uniforms, brown army tents, and new wooden barracks. The roads are filled with American trucks, wagons, motors, and whizzing motorcycles, American mules, ammunition wagons, machine guns, provisions, and supplies, and American sentinels down every street.
While they were not afraid and had not lost a whit of their nerve, they realized that discretion was the better part of valor, and their feet continued to hit the ground at breakneck speed, until again came to their ears the first faint sounds of the pursuing motorcycles.
Even above the "pop-pop" of their motorcycles could be heard the terrible roar of the German guns as they were brought to bear on Dead Man's Hill, paving the way for an infantry advance, which was to come a few hours later.
"Corking idea; let's get busy," exclaimed Jiminy Gordon. "Great! Give us the details," shouted Romper. Bruce wrinkled his brow in deep thought for several moments, then his face lighted up with a smile. "Look here, fellows," he said enthusiastically, "three of us have motorcycles we got for Christmas, and Romper here and Ray Martin of the Flying Eagles have the machines they built themselves.
"And so am I," replied Chester, as he, too, jumped to the ground to stretch his legs. Suddenly from the distance in which they had come came a faint "chug-chug." Chester pricked up his ears. "What's that?" he demanded anxiously. For a brief moment Hal paused to listen. The sound became louder. Hal sprang toward his bicycle. "Come on!" he cried, and leaped into the saddle. "Motorcycles!
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