"Wow! Woof!" uttered Sambo Ebony. It didn't take that villain an instant to decide on flight. Bending low, the black man ran off with frantic speed.
Dick took a step forward—-only one, for Evarts furiously gripped at one of the young army officer's ankles, bringing him down to his knees.
"Hang you, you hound!" ground out Tom, in a rage, as he threw himself athwart of the ex-foreman. Within the next thirty seconds Evarts received a swift, fearful pummeling.
"Let up, Mr. Reade! Let up!" cried the wretch. "I'll behave myself."
"I'll wager you will," retorted the young engineer grimly, as he gripped
Evarts by the coat collar and drew him to his feet.
Dick was up and had run ahead some distance. But the time that had been gained for the black man had proved sufficient. Sambo, was now out of sight, nor did he send back any sound to guide his pursuers.
"It may have to be a long hunt for the negro," remarked Tom Reade when Lieutenant Dick stepped back to state the case. "Stand by me and shoot this fellow down in his tracks if he tries to get away."
"Why, what are you going to do to me?" quaked the ex-foreman.
"It's back to jail for yours," Tom informed him crisply.
"Then the laugh will be on you," jeered Evarts. "I'm out on bail—-all in regular form."