"Not much. A few scratches and some blows in the face. But what's the matter with you, Tom? You're lame."
"Yes, my ankle is on the blink—football game to-day; just before I got your letter. Oh, but I'm glad I reached you in time!"
"Yes, you just caught me. I'd been on my way West to-morrow. Oh Tom,
I can't tell you how sorry I am about it all!"
"Never mind. It's all right now, and all can be explained, I guess."
"Of course it can."
"Say, when you fellows get through chinnin' maybe you'll tell me what you're goin' to do with me?" snarled the tramp.
"We surely will," said Tom. "We're going to tie you up, and then send for the police."
"You are! Not if I know it!" With an angry cry the man endeavored to break from the hold of the two lads. But they were too much for the fellow, though the struggle was not an easy one.
"We'd better fasten him in some way," suggested Ray. "Rip off his coat, Tom, and tie his arms in it. Maybe we'd better call for help."
"Where could we get any?"