"Hey there!" challenged Bob. "Who are you?"
For answer there came the flash of a revolver and a pane of glass in the window close beside the boys' heads was shattered.
"Stop!" shouted Bob at the top of his voice and regardless of danger he started in pursuit of the fleeing man. Hugh was not to be left behind at such a time and together they raced after the fugitive.
Suddenly he stopped, raised his right arm, and hurled his revolver. It struck the ground directly in front of Hugh, spun around a number of times and hit him a sharp blow on his shin bone as it caromed.
"Let it alone," cried Bob.
"It must be empty."
Both boys were fleet of foot, but in the first fifty yards of the race the man gained on them. It was plain to see that unless something happened they would soon be outdistanced. Bob realized that the time had come when chances were to be taken. He raised his father's hickory cane above his head, whirled it around a couple of times, and sent it spinning in the direction of the fleeing figure ahead.
The one chance in a hundred was successful. Bob's aim was true and the heavy stick flew straight to its mark. As the man ran, one end of it protruded itself between his legs; he was tripped up and, losing his balance, fell sprawling to the ground. Almost instantly he was on his feet again, but the delay occasioned by his fall had been almost sufficient to enable the boys to catch up with him. They were barely two steps behind him now.
"Tackle him!" shouted Bob.
Like two ends going down the field to get the quarterback who is receiving the punt Bob and Hugh leaped forward at the same time. They had both had experience in football and it stood them in good stead now. The man went down, both boys literally swarming all over him.