Halstead gave a quick description of Rexford. Of the unknown one the young skipper could say only that he was a dark-haired man of thirty, clad in a gray suit.
The spirit of adventure being upon these young fellows, they scattered, dashing through the woods on a chance of finding anything that might look like a scrimmage. Five minutes of strenuous chasing, however, failed to discover Rexford or his companion, who must have known these woods well. Then the rah-rah boys, hot and disgusted, came back to the road.
“See here, young man,” remarked one of their leaders, severely, “you haven’t been trifling with our young hopes, have you?”
“On my word of honor, no,” Tom replied, earnestly. Then a happy, somewhat vengeful thought struck him.
“See here, fellows,” he went on, “I know pretty near the spot where a roll of five hundred dollars lies in the woods yonder. If you can find it I guess it will be yours, for frolic or dividing, just as you like.”
But that proved an almost dangerous piece of information to offer.
“Five hundred—what?” scowled the leader of the young men.
“We’ve found a crazy boy!” roared another.
“To the asylum with him!”
“No! Drag him along and duck him—that will be enough!”