No sooner had he spoken than two distinct shadows loomed up before them along the wall.
“Run, you guys!” cried Jim.
They dashed away from the wall as fast as they could go toward the open field, the two men hard at their heels. Jim and Terry were slightly ahead of Don and running swiftly, breaking their way recklessly through the bushes that barred their way. Don had been a bit slower but was sufficiently ahead of his pursuers to keep him out of danger. They ran in the general direction of the school, trusting to luck to keep them out of holes and other pitfalls.
But Don was the unlucky one. Jim and Terry veered to the right across the fields but Don kept on going, failing to follow their lead closely. When he noticed that they had changed their course he swung around to follow them. There was nothing ahead of him, but as he ran forward he felt himself flung back abruptly, to tumble breathless to the ground. Before him was a long chicken run, with high chicken wire strung from pole to pole to pole, and Don had run against this net in the dark, to be playfully tossed for a considerable loss.
It proved to be a fatal loss. Just as he scrambled to his feet the two men swooped down on him and two pairs of strong arms gripped him. He struggled but the men held him fast.
“Let go of me,” he demanded, somewhat breathlessly.
“Nothing doing, bub,” growled the man who had been digging. “You come along with us.”
“Where are you taking me?” Don asked, as they led him along.
“Back to the house,” replied the other, an older man. “We want to find out what you were doing snooping around there. I’m caretaker at the house and I can have you arrested for trespassing.”
Don had a pretty fair idea that Arthur Gates would not have him arrested but he realized that he was in a tough spot.