Sam looked around in all directions, but could see nothing of Lew
Flapp.
But not far away was a pile of loose dirt and in this he saw some fresh tracks, pointing to the rear of the cemetery.
"That's his course," he thought, and set off in that direction. He still carried the stick he had picked up and vowed that Lew Flapp should not get away so easily again.
The end of the cemetery bordered on the Swift River, a stream which has already figured in these stories of the Rover boys. It was a rocky, swift-flowing watercourse, and the bank at the end of the burying ground was fully ten feet high.
"Perhaps he crossed the river," thought the youngest Rover. "But he couldn't do that very well unless he had a boat and then he would run the risk of being dashed on the rocks."
The edge of the river reached, Sam looked around on all sides of him.
Lew Flapp was still nowhere to be seen.
"I've missed him," thought Sam. "What next?"
As the youngest Rover stood meditating, a figure stole from behind some bushes which were close at hand. The figure was that of Lew Flapp, who had been on the point of turning back when he had seen Sam coming.
"He will raise an alarm as soon as he sees me," reasoned the bully.
"Oh, if only I could get him out of my way!"
He gazed at the youngest Rover and when he saw how close to the water's edge Sam was standing, a sudden thought came into his mind. As silently as a wild beast stealing on its prey, he crept up to Sam.