"Please don't hit me again! I'm half killed now!"
The cringing appeal changed Alvin's indignation to disgusted pity. He unclenched his fingers and dropped his hands.
"Get up! I won't hit you, though you deserve it."
His victim seemed to be in doubt and slowly came to his feet still whining:
"We didn't know it was you; it was a mistake."
"It does look that way," was the grim comment of Alvin. "Get up, I say; you have nothing to fear from me."
The fellow was in doubt. He slowly rose, but the instant he stood erect, he was off again as if propelled from a catapult. Alvin, instead of pursuing and overtaking him, stood still and laughed.
"Come back and get your hat!" he shouted, but the fugitive did not abate his speed and made the dust fly until he vanished in the moonlight.
Yielding to an impulse, Alvin walked to where the headgear lay and picked it up. It was a valuable chip hat, such as is fashionable in summer in all parts of the country. The captor was wondering whether it contained the fellow's name. The moonlight was not strong enough for him to see distinctly, and, bringing out his rubber safe from his hip pocket, he struck a match to aid in the scrutiny.