Constable Dock halted, dropping to one knee, for one of the leaden pellets had gone close to his left ear. One of the bullets hit a tree just behind Prescott with a spiteful chug. Dick felt queer, but he was too much in motion to stop himself just then.
"Stop or I'll bring you down!" bellowed Constable Dock, taking careful aim. An instant later the officer fired, but at that very instant Mr. Fits skimmed off at a sharp angle with his late course, and so he escaped uninjured.
A derisive shout came back from the fugitive. He was now out of range of the officer's revolver, and knew it. The constable, too, realized the fact. He started in pursuit as rapidly as he could make it, calling to his deputy to follow.
"Going to join the chase?" called Dave to Dick.
"What's the use?" panted Prescott, halting. "Mr. Fits has a good start and can make fine speed. We could catch only the constable."
So the Grammar School boys slowed down. Constable Dock and his deputy were now almost out of sight among the trees, and no eye among the boys could see how much in the lead Mr. Fits was.
"They'll never catch him," sighed Dave.
"I'm afraid not," agreed Dick.
"And so, one of these nights, Mr. Fits will come back, ready to pay us back for our plan to turn him over to the police."
"We took care of him before, didn't we?" Prescott wanted to know.