“I am not sure of that, Gregory. Still, I mean to do my best.”
In the evening the two boys attended a theatrical performance. It was not till after eleven o’clock that they emerged from the theatre, and slowly, not by the most direct way, sauntered home.
There was no thought of danger in the mind of either, yet, as a fact, Hector had never in his life been exposed to peril so serious as that evening. Lurking behind in the shadow a shabby-looking man followed the two boys, keeping his eyes steadily on Hector. At a place specially favorable, our hero was startled by hearing a bullet whiz by his ear. He turned instantly, and so did Gregory. They saw a man running, and they pursued him. They might not have caught up with him, but that he stumbled and fell. Instantly they were upon him.
“Well,” he said, sullenly, “you’ve caught me after all.”
“Were you the man who fired at me?” asked Hector, “or was it my friend here you sought to kill?”
“I was firing at you,” answered their captive, coolly. “Now, what are you going to do with me?”
“Was this forced upon you by want? Did you wish to rob me?”
“No; I had another motive.”
“What was it?”
“If I tell you, will you let me go free?”