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