Fred Sheldon was dimly visible making for the woods, and the two followed, Sutton just a little behind his friend.
"You might as well give it up," said the elder; "he's got too much of a start and is making for cover."
"I'm bound to have him before he can reach it, and I'll pay him for all this."
No more than one hundred feet separated the parties, when Fred, beginning to feel the effects of his severe exertion, darted in among the shadows of the wood, and, hardly knowing what was the best to do, threw himself flat on the ground, behind the trunk of a large tree, where he lay panting and afraid the loud throbbing of his heart would betray him to his pursuers, who were so close behind him.
Had he been given a single minute more he would have made a sharp turn in his course, and thus could have thrown them off the track without difficulty; but, as it was—we shall see.
Bud Heyland rushed by within a few feet, and halted a couple of yards beyond, while Sutton stopped within a third of that distance, where Fred lay flat on the ground.
"Do you hear him?" asked Bud.
"Hear him? No; he's given us the slip, and it's all time thrown away to hunt further for him."
Bud uttered an angry exclamation and stood a few minutes listening for some sound that would tell where the eavesdropper was.
But nothing was heard, and Sutton moved forward, passing so close to Fred that the latter could have reached out his hand and touched him.