"Now," exclaimed Will, "let's onto him! let me get hold of him first, and then you take a hand in."
Grasping their clubs, and leaving the gun lying by their nest, the boys slipped over the dike and dashed upon the marauder. So occupied was the latter with his nefarious task that he heard nothing till the boys were within ten feet of him. Then he started up, and raised his spade threateningly.
"Drop that, Baizley, or I'll blow a hole in you!" cried Will, springing at his neck.
At this instant the silent figure flung itself adroitly off the dike, dropping the spade and eluding Will's grasp. It started swiftly across the muddy flat, the two boys close on its heels.
For a few yards the boys just held their own. Then Ted, being the swifter, forged ahead. In a few seconds more he overtook the fugitive, sprang upon his neck, and bore him headlong to the ground. The next moment, before either could recover, Will had come up, and his iron grip was on the stranger's throat.
"No nonsense, now," said Will, in a voice that carried conviction, at the same time tapping the fellow's cranium lightly with his club. "If you don't want the life half pounded out of you, keep still!"
The fellow lay quiet, only gasping:
"Don't choke me!"
Will relaxed his grip, and then exclaimed to Ted, in astonishment:
"Why, it ain't Baizley!"