"Let him go, Jack!" pleaded Meg, who, in spite of herself, felt a sympathy for the boy who, like herself, had been unfortunate.
He threw off the hand which she had placed upon his arm, saying, contemptuously, "You're a fool!" and then dashed off in pursuit of Walter.
Walter had the start, and had already succeeded in placing two hundred yards between himself and his pursuer. But Jack was strong and athletic, and could run faster than a boy of fifteen, and the distance between the two constantly diminished. Walter looked over his shoulder, as he ran, and, brave as he was, there came over him a sickening sensation of fear as he met the fierce, triumphant glance of his enemy.
"Stop!" called out Jack, hoarsely.
Walter did not answer, neither did he obey. He was determined to hold out to the last, and when he surrendered it would be only as a measure of necessity.
"Are you going to stop or not? You'd better," growled Jack.
Walter still remained silent; but his heart bounded with sudden hope as he saw before him a means of possible escape. Only a few rods in advance was a deep ditch, at least twelve feet wide, over which a single plank was thrown as a bridge for foot-passengers. Walter summoned his energies, and sped like a deer forward and over the bridge, when, stooping down, he hastily pulled it over after him, thus cutting off his enemy's advance. Jack saw his intention, and tried to reach the edge of the ditch soon enough to prevent it. But he was just too late.
Baffled and enraged, he looked across the gulf which separated him from his intended victim.