But Josh was a fast runner, and Jack himself had few equals in his home school. They certainly had plenty of reasons for doing their level best when they found themselves pursued so hotly by that pair of lawless tramp burglars.
As usual Jack had his eyes about him, and was noting the lay of the land. When any one makes good use of all his faculties, as this boy generally did, he is apt to take advantage of openings that would never occur to most fellows.
“This way, Josh!” Jack flung over his shoulder, for he was still doing the leading, though the long-legged one might easily have gone ahead had he wished, weighted down as Jack was by the heavy bag.
With every jump they made they were pushing further and further into the centre of the little river town.
Women came to the doors to see them running, attracted by the angry shouts of the men; who, having succeeded in coming up closer to those they chased were hoping to frighten them with threats, so that they would drop the bag.
Children, too, scattered like chickens at the swoop of a plunging motorcycle; and huddled at the sides of the street, gazing wide-eyed at the running boys and pursuing men.
“Bang!”
Apparently one of the desperate yeggs had managed to keep his revolver in serviceable condition, in spite of his submersion in the chilly waters of the Mississippi.
“Not hurt, I hope, Josh?” cried Jack, over his shoulder, as he still kept running wildly.
“Nixey, not!” gasped the other; “but I’m adoin’ all I can to shield you, Jack!”