Don't hang back.

Maybe you'll dream some more." "You go to blazes," growled Ballard, seeing that the argument was already decided against him and that his protests were only delaying the pursuit.
"Where are the machines, Mr.Pardo ?" asked Merry.
"This way," the super answered, and led the boys to an adobe storehouse not far from the corral.
The motor cycles proved to be twin-cylinder, highpowered machines.
"They're loaded with gasoline and oil," said Pardo, "for we always keep them in trim for an emergency." The gas lamps attached to the front of the motor cycles were lighted, and two penciled gleams searched out the ground far in advance.
"Porter has a good, long start of us," remarked Clancy, an exultant note in his voice, "but on these buzz buggies we ought to be able to travel a dozen yards to his one." "I don't know whether I ought to let you go," said Pardo.

"I'd go on one of the machines myself if the assistant superintendent wasn't away so that I am needed here.

What will Mr.Bradlaugh say ?" Merriwell laughed at the super's foolish fears.
"Mr.Bradlaugh knows us better than you do, Mr.Pardo," he answered, "and he'll say you did just right to let us have the machines and take up the chase where we dropped it at the cyanide tanks." Merry, astride his wheel, was cranking with the pedals.

The engine began to pop and sputter and was finally crooning its steady song of speed.
Clancy had likewise turned his own engine over.
"I wish you luck, anyhow," said Pardo.
"We'll find that golden trail of yours, Pink," joked Clancy, "and bring you one of the nuggets as a souvenir." "Just bring back your scalp, Red," answered Ballard.