Meanwhile Achilles Henderson was getting over the ground at the rate of ten miles an hour or more. His long strides gave him a great advantage over an ordinary runner.
"If they lay a hand on that boy I pity 'em!" he said to himself.
It was fortunate for Kit that Dick Hayden, like a cat who plays with a mouse, paused to gloat over the evident alarm and uneasiness of his victim, even after all was ready for the punishment which he proposed to inflict.
"Well, boy, what have you to say now?" he demanded, drawing the cowhide through his short stubby fingers.
"I have nothing to say that will move you from your purpose, I am afraid," replied poor Kit.
"I guess you're about right there, kid!" chuckled Hayden. "Are you ready to apologize to me for what you done over to the circus?"
"I don't think there is anything to apologize for."
"There isn't, isn't there? Didn't you bring that long-legged ruffian on to me?"
"I was only doing my duty," said Kit, manfully.
"Oho! so that's the way you look at it, do you?"