That's all."

Don waved his hand as a sign of dismissal.

The other boy, with a nod, turned to make his way off. "No, by the Great Porpoise, that isn't all!"

The words, shouted, with a tremendous energy behind them, caused some other hearts to bound.

Jacob Farnum, his blood now boiling, found himself unable to contain himself any longer.

As he shouted out, he burst through the bushes, making a bee-line for the departing boy in uniform.

Don Melville gasped, in sheer dismay, yet he had the presence of mind to yell:

"Scoot, Benson! Travel as fast as ever you can!"

Then Don ran a few steps in the opposite direction. Young Melville was a very fair sprinter, but he wanted to have a bit of a start in case of need.

"Melville, you young scoundrel, I'll settle with you later!" roared Jacob Farnum, keeping on down the road.

Straight in the middle of the road the fugitive was now dashing along, until Don yelled after him:

"Take to the woods, Benson! You can lose him there!"

"I'll get him, anywhere on earth!" shouted Jacob Farnum, full of purpose and vim.

The boatbuilder was long-legged and slim. He had been a runner at college, and now his old knack was coming back to him.

Undoubtedly the most humiliated man present was George Melville. Though that capitalist had not been averse to stooping to the purchase of secrets from another man's trusted employe, he felt badly indeed to have Farnum detect his son.

So George Melville now came out quickly from cover.

"Don," he demanded, "how could Farnum ever have gotten wind of this?"

"Talk it over with Mr. Emerson," panted Don Melville. "I'm off after Benson and Farnum."

With that Don put his own sprinting abilities to the test, dashing into the woods at the point where he had seen the others vanish.

Though it flashed through George Melville's head that Broughton Emerson must have given information to the rival boatbuilder, the elder Melville did not now stop to question Mr. Emerson.

Instead, the father, who was rather heavy, started off puffily in the wake of his son.

"This looks like ticklish business," George Melville told himself, "and Don, though usually self-contained, is hot enough of temper, at a time like this, to make matters pretty bad for all concerned."

Wanting to see the matter through Broughton Emerson kept a little to the rear of the other capitalist. It was a curious Indian file that stretched out through the woods with the uniformed boy in the lead.

"You may as well stop!" yelled Jacob Farnum, after the fugitive. "I'm going to catch you, anyway!"

It looked that way, indeed. Dark as it was, with the moon behind a cloud, the running boy, looking back over his shoulder, could see the enraged boatbuilder coming after him at great strides.

Mr. Farnum was soon so close upon the heels of his quarry that he could all but reach out his hand and grasp the boy's collar. But just then the boy went down to earth, instantly rolling himself as nearly into a ball as he could.

Jacob Farnum, unable to stop in time, tripped and fell over the fugitive, plunging, head-first, into a clump of bushes and scratching himself.

With a jubilant laugh the boy in uniform was up again, and off. He got a good start, but the boatbuilder, after listening a few seconds, and getting the sounds of flight, bounded off, once more, in the right direction.

Don had halted precipitately, when he saw the tumble, but now he too darted forward once more.

"If Farnum can catch him," shivered Do; "I've got to be at hand to help out in a lightning rescue."

Mr. Farnum did some tall running before he again came in sight of the runner ahead.

Yet the pursuit had not reached its finish. The fugitive suddenly dived through a fringe of bushes, going out of sight.

Mr. Farnum reached the spot, then halted, looking undecided, almost bewildered.

There was now no sound to guide the pursuer.

"Confound him, if he has gotten away," muttered the boatbuilder, impatiently, to himself. Yet he did not dare risk running forward in any direction, for fear of getting further from his quarry.

Don Melville halted, too, chuckling softly to himself.

"Oh, you!" snorted Farnum, glancing backward over his shoulder in high disgust.

Don chuckled again.

Just then the sound of stealthily moving feet came to the boatbuilder's ears. Don, in his glee, had lost the chance to make so much noise with his own feet that the other boy could steal softly away undetected.

Without a word, now, the boatbuilder sprang forward. As he advanced, he heard the running of the uniformed boy plainly enough, and, a moment later, came in sight.

Now, Jacob Farnum, though not much given to making empty threats, decided to try the effect of a ruse.

"You! You ahead!" he shouted. "Stop, or I'll send some lead after you. Do you want me to fire?"

Swift as thought Don Melville, again in pursuit at the rear, yelled:

"Don't mind him, Benson! Scoot! He hasn't any gun."

"If some fairy only would take care of that snake-in-the-gra.s.s behind me!" quivered Mr. Farnum, silently.

Having the uniformed boy plainly in sight, though some hundred or more feet ahead, Farnum by no means felt like giving up the race. All the same, the boatbuilder, long out of practice in athletics, was beginning to feel severely the effects of this chase over rough ground and through bushes.

"I've got to die or get him!" muttered Farnum, doggedly, between his teeth. "Oh, for a little light on this cloudy night! If I could be sure the fellow is, or isn't, Benson, I might be more willing to drop this pace!"

Putting on a better spurt, as a last, desperate resort, Farnum did all in his power to overtake the uniformed boy.

He seemed likely enough to do it--would have done it, no doubt, but for a new trick on the part of the enemy.

Don Melville, seeing how matters were going, and being in much better training, increased his own burst of speed, running as softly as possible.