If either of the pair caught hold of him Tom Halstead knew that capture would be swift enough. Well ahead of the unknown, Halstead veered enough to give him another momentary start on Rexford.
Tom darted to a young oak tree, one of whose branches hung low. This gave an opportunity not to be overlooked at such a moment. Leaping at the branch, grappling with it with both hands, Halstead drew himself up with a sailor’s speed and surety. From that he stepped like a flash to the next higher branch. Now, he grinned down at his enemies.
Rexford and the unknown collided with each other just beside the trunk of that tree.
“I hope you won’t either of you try to follow me up here,” hinted Captain Tom, mockingly. “If you do, I shall have to kick one of you in the face.”
Holding on above him, he swung one foot suggestively. It was not too dark for the pair below to realize how much bodily risk there would be in attacking this gritty youngster in his present place of advantage.
“You’re all right up there,” admitted Rexford, coldly. “We can’t come up after you without getting damaged heads. But, my boy, what is to hinder us from throwing enough stones up there to make it pretty warm for you?”
Tom’s grin of confidence suddenly vanished. He had overlooked the possibility of being dislodged by a volley or two of stones. Had the field been clear for a six-foot start from his tormentors he would have felt like taking the chance of leaping down and taking to his heels once more. But they were right at hand, below. The boy felt himself trapped.
“Don’t let him get away,” advised Rexford. “I’m going into the road after a few stones.”
The unknown got even closer to the base of the tree. Rexford, after a careful look at the relative positions of trapper and trapped, ran out to the road.
“Who are we? Who are we? C-o-l-b-y! Rah! rah! rah!”