“Because I didn’t suppose you were chasing me. I thought you were just following. I never caught sight of the fellow after he darted out of the bushes and struck up the river. He was gone in a second.”
“Well, you won’t catch him,” said Wayne. “He’s got home by this time.” And he recounted his adventures. Dave whistled.
“He was a bully skater, anyhow. I’ll bet it was Paddy!”
“Nonsense!” answered Don. “He wasn’t built like Paddy.”
“No, he wasn’t one of the fellows,” Wayne said. “He was a man, not very tall, and he had a muffler wound round his neck. And—and the funny thing about it is, that it seems as though I had seen him before somewhere.”
“Well, let’s get these silly skates off and hurry up about it,” said Don disgustedly. “It must be getting late, and I don’t want to have to feed on crackers and sardines the way I had to the other night. And we must get permission to take the skates to the village after supper.”
“Anyhow,” said Wayne, as he tugged at his straps, “I’m sure of one thing; and that is, if I see that fellow to-morrow I’ll recognize him.”
“Same here,” responded Dave.
Wayne found a note from Carl Gray, together with Don’s remodeled golf balls, on his table when he returned to his room after supper. Don examined the balls with interest.
“Pretty good work, I call it, Wayne. They look about as good as new and have a dandy coat of paint on ’em.”