“I think I’ll interview him and see what he has to say for himself,” murmured Dave to himself. “Maybe I’ll have him arrested.”
Ward Porton had been staring at our hero all the while he was turning into the street and getting out of the sleigh. But now, as he saw Dave approaching, he started to walk away.
“Stop, Porton! I want to talk to you,” called out our hero. “Stop!”
“I don’t want to see you,” returned the other youth, hastily. “You let me alone;” and then, as Dave came closer, he suddenly broke into a run down the street. Dave was taken by surprise, but only for a moment. Then he, too, commenced to run, doing his best to catch the fellow ahead.
But Ward Porton was evidently scared. He looked back, and, seeing Dave running, increased his speed, and then shot around a corner and into an alleyway. When Dave reached the corner he was nowhere in sight.
“He certainly was scared,” was Dave’s mental comment, as he looked up and down the side street and even glanced into the alleyway. “I wonder where he went and if it would do any good to look any further for him?”
Dave spent fully five minutes in that vicinity, but without being able to discover Ward Porton’s hiding-place. Then, knowing that the others 37 would be wondering what had become of him, and being also afraid that the grays might run away again, he returned to where he had left the sleigh standing.
“Hello! Where did you go?” called out Ben, who had just emerged from the restaurant.
“What do you think? I just saw that rascal, Ward Porton!” burst out Dave.