oppression of the situation. The lad was on the point of breaking into a
run, when the man, who was one of the tramps before referred to, called
out,--

"Hold on there, sonny! don't be in such a hurry."

This salutation was not calculated to soothe Tom's agitation, and without
any reply he started on a loping trot, still keeping his attention to the
rear, and prepared to break into a dead run the moment it became
necessary. He was fleet of foot, and believed he could make the fellow
hustle.

"Didn't you hear me, sonny? If you don't want to get shot, stop!"

Tom had no wish to be shot, nor did he mean to have the company of the
rascal who was bent on intruding upon him.

"Catch me if you can," he muttered, breaking into a swifter pace; "I'm
glad it's night so I'll have a chance to hide from you"--

"Hold on there! what's your hurry, younker?"

The boy almost sank to the ground, for this startling hail came not from
the rear, but from the front. Stopping short, he saw a burly fellow,
standing within ten feet of him in the middle of the road, so nigh indeed,
that, despite the darkness, Tom had no earthly chance of eluding him, as
he might have done had he detected his presence a moment sooner.

Rallying with a supreme effort, he addressed the one nearest him.