Tom was out of the bushes in a jiffy and running into the woods. Coming in sight of the fleeing form he called, “Hey, Lawton, wait a second; what’s the idea?” But Lawton neither paused nor turned.
“HEY, LAWTON, WHAT’S THE IDEA?”
Now he knew that something was wrong; Lawton heard him but would not wait. Tom had been running to catch up, as one might say; now he started in pursuit. He knew how to run in the woods and sped like a deer. Soon Lawton, fearful, glanced about, and seeing the distance between them closing up, increased his effort. Probably he had at first thought that he was unseen. But having continued running after Tom had called, flight was now his only course.
But it was no use: Tom caught up, passed him, and, turning about, stood in his path.
“What’s the idea, Lawton?” he panted.
“What’s your idea?” Lawton countered, clearly embarrassed.
“Well, I was expecting to cook supper for you and beat you at pinochle,” Tom said, unpleasantly. “I didn’t think I’d have to beat you running. Did you think you could get away from me?”
“You didn’t have to run after me, Slade,” said Lawton looking in a way of reprimand through his rimless eyeglasses. They gave him a certain student look which put Tom at the slightest disadvantage. “Did I say positively that I’d stay for supper?”
“No, but what are you hurrying away for? What’s that you’ve got under your arm?”