As the pursuit went on, Matt resolutely closing up the gap between him and the Chinaman, the timber suddenly broke away to give a view of a farmhouse and a barn. Between the house and barn stood a farmer with a rake.
Sam Wing, at the end of his rope and apparently determined on making a last desperate stand, swerved from the road and ran in the direction of the barn.
"Hi, there!" shouted Matt, waving his arms to attract the attention of the farmer, "head him off!"
It was not difficult for the farmer to understand enough of the situation to make him useful in the emergency, and he started energetically to do what he could. Swinging the rake around his head, he hurried toward a point which would intersect the path of the Chinaman.
Sam Wing, even though he was weary and almost spent, continued "game." A small, V-shaped hencoop stood close to the point where he halted and confronted the farmer.
"By Jerry," threatened the farmer, "yew stop! Don't yew try no shenanigin with me, or I'll comb out your pigtail with this here rake. What yew—— Gosh-all-hemlocks!"
It was absolutely necessary for Sam Wing to do something if he did not want to be trapped between the farmer in front and Matt, who was hurrying up behind. Calling upon all his strength, Wing stooped, grabbed the small coop, and hurled it at the farmer's legs.
The coop struck the farmer's shins and doubled his lank frame up like a closed jackknife. He went down, rake and all, and Wing passed around him and lumbered on toward the open barn door.
The farmer's ire was aroused. Getting up on his knees, he began calling, at the top of his lungs: "Tige! Here, Tige!"
Tige, a brindled bulldog, came scurrying from the direction of the house.