"Don't let him stop you with that. I don't believe he would dare use it on us."
"If it's only a question of 'daring,'" responded Dave, "I don't believe there is anything that Tag Mosher would be afraid to do at a pinch."
Owing to the storm it was dark in the great woods. Shadows were deceptive. Though Dick and Dave ran on at pell-mell speed they presently came to a sudden halt, looking inquiringly at each other.
"Which way did that fellow go?" demanded Dave.
"Blessed if I know," Dick admitted.
"Are we still on the right trail, and merely a mile behind him?"
"I wish I knew even that," admitted Prescott.
"We might as well go back," proposed Darry. "In these woods all we'll get is—-wet."
"All right," nodded Prescott. Discouraged with the chase, they turned to retrace their way nearly half a mile through the soggy, dripping woods. They had not gone far on their return when they came upon Tom and Greg.
"Hello, where have you fellows been?" asked Reade.