But though Tom was a good runner he was handicapped by the fact that
the man had a start of him, and also by the fact that the stranger
had had a chance to rest while hiding for the second time in the big
box, while Tom had kept on running. So it is no great cause for
wonder that Mr. Swift's son found himself being distanced.
Once, twice he called on the fleeing one to halt, but the man paid
no attention, and did not even turn around. Then the youth wisely
concluded to save his wind for running. He did his best, but was
chagrined to see the man reach the woods ahead of him.
"I've lost him now," thought Tom. "Well, there's no help for it."
Still he did not give up, but kept on through the patch of trees. On
the farther side was Lake Carlopa, a broad and long sheet of water.
"If he doesn't know the lake's there," thought our hero, "he may
keep straight on. The water will be sure to stop him, and I can
catch him. But what will I do with him after I get him? That's
another question. I guess I've got a right to demand to know what he
was doing around our place, though."
But Tom need not have worried on this score. He could hear the
fugitive ahead of him, and marked his progress by the crackling of
the underbrush.
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