The boys turned into the undergrowth and ran, tearing their clothes and scratching their hands on wild vines, and occasionally falling over a protruding tree-root. At one time they both lay in a heap at the foot of a beech tree, where they had fallen over a mass of vines. When they scrambled to their feet they heard shouts of laughter coming from a thicket not far away.
“Guess they’ve got us!” panted Alex.
“I guess they have!” Case agreed.
The next moment the brown barrel of a rifle was thrust out at the boys. The boys sat flat down on the ground and waited.
“That’s right!” the holder of the gun said, stepping out of the thicket. “Set right down and take things easy. If you try to unlimber any artillery, you’ll get the worst of it.”
The man was tall, bony, angular. His face was clean-shaven, showing high cheek bones, with prominent nose and a cleft chin. His hair was brown, his eyes blue, and the general expression of his face at that moment was humorous rather than threatening.
“What’s the idea?” Alex asked.
“You don’t look like a man capable of holding up two boys!” Case put in. “You look like a pretty decent chap.”
“If you’ve got any masked batteries with you,” the man said a smile showing on his rugged face, “just poke them out here, handle first, and then we’ll arrive at some understanding!”
The boys did as directed, although they would have made a fight for their weapons only for the indescribable air of friendliness about the man. They rose to their feet as they dropped their revolvers.