"I'll be laid up for fair!" he groaned. "No more football for me this season. Well, I can't help it. This is more important. Oh, if I can only land him in jail where he belongs!"
Recovering himself, he dashed on. He could still hear the lumbering footsteps of the tramp. And then suddenly, out of the blackness ahead of Tom there came a strange sound. It was like a grunt. Then the echo of voices.
"Look out where you're going!" someone exclaimed.
"Get out of my way!" snarled another, and Tom recognized the tramp's tones.
"Ray! Ray Blake!" cried Tom, as he again heard the first voice. "Hold that man! Don't let him get away. That's Jake Crouse!"
CHAPTER XXIV
CORNERED
Tom Fairfield heard the sound of a struggle ahead of him in the blackness. He heard the panting of breaths, heavily drawn, and the impact of blows.
"I'm coming, Ray! I'm coming. Hold him!" yelled Tom. "Don't let him get away!"
"I—I won't, Tom!" was the answer. "But—hurry up!"