With a furious imprecation, Maloney gave Bigelow a fierce kick in the ribs, which brought another howl of pain from the lips of the fat chap. Scrambling to his feet, the policeman dashed toward the door unmindful of the imploring shriek which came from Maggie’s lips. Forth into the darkness he hustled in pursuit of the disguised and fleeing lad, swearing the most terrible vengeance as he vanished.
Scuttling along the alley, Dick paused to peer out upon the street. He did not fancy Maloney would pursue him closely, and therefore he was startled by the sound of thudding feet and turned to see the dark figure of the policeman charging upon him.
“Cæsar’s ghost!” gasped the boy. “Here’s where I take Tucker’s advice and hit the high places.”
He knew it would be a serious thing for him if he fell into the hands of the enraged officer. Confident of his ability to outrun Maloney, he laughingly skipped away. Behind him the policeman raised a great shouting.
“Stop thafe! stop thafe!”
Looking back, Merriwell saw the bluecoat, club in hand, covering ground with wonderful speed.
The boy dodged to the right at the first corner. He collided with another policeman who had heard Maloney’s shouts, and was rushing to discover the meaning of the uproar. Down they went.
“What in blazes——”
Dick stopped the policeman by savagely interrupting:
“What do you mean by interfering with me? Why didn’t you nab that thief?”