Prescott
was now so close that Tag sprang to his feet and ran on without
making any effort to recover his lost weapon.
Then the larger boy dived into a thicket. He did not appear again.
Master of every hidden path in these forests, he seemed likely
enough to get away without leaving a trace of a trail.
Dick halted, brought to his senses by the realization that he
had deserted the three high school girls who had been entrusted
to his escort. He turned about. At the spot where Tag had tripped
he bent over to pick up the abandoned revolver.
One glance into the cylinder was enough. There wasn't a cartridge
in the weapon.
"Just as I thought," laughed Dick triumphantly. "Tag had no notion
of shooting anyone. For fear he might do so, if too closely cornered,
he threw away the ammunition. He relied on the bad reputation
of the Moshers to make officers hesitate if they encountered him
with firearms in his hands."
Then Prescott called for the girls, whom he quickly rejoined.
"You didn't catch him?" asked Laura.
"Not I," laughed Dick. "He knows every trail in these woods and
in a sprint, Tag Mosher could leave me hitched to a tree."
"I'm thankful you didn't catch him," quivered Miss Bentley. "He's
a terrible fellow.
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