It was the old, familiar trick of "pushing in his face."
So quickly did that manoeuvre come that Dick, caught off his
balance, was shoved backward until he tripped and fell.
Then the stranger vanished with the speed of one accustomed to
flight through the woods.
His eyes full of sand from the fall, Dick struggled to his feet,
rubbing his eyelids, just as Dave Darrin came running up.
"What was it?" demanded Dave.
"Come on! We ought to catch him yet!" cried young Prescott, turning
and running into the woods. But Dick's eyes were not quite as
keen as they had been, and Darry, once he had the general direction,
outstripped his chum in the race.
Once away from the blazing fire of oil-soaked wood, however, the
boys found themselves at a disadvantage in the woods. At last
Darry stopped, listening. Then, hearing sounds, he wheeled, dashing
at a figure.
"Get out with you, Darry!" laughed Prescott good-humoredly.
"I thought you were-----"
"The other fellow! Yes; I know," laughed Dick.
"Where is he? Listen!"
But only the night sounds of the woods answered them.
"We'd better put for camp," whispered Dick, "or that fellow will
slip around us and pillage the supplies before we get there."
Dave started back at a dog trot, Dick following at a more leisurely
gait.
Pages:
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70