“Come on, Joe. We’ve got to run for it!” exclaimed Blake, and, not caring now how much noise they made—being under the necessity of betraying their presence—they dashed back in the direction they had come.
“Here they are!” yelled Hemp, as he ran after them, tearing through the underbrush. “I knew we were being spied on! Come along, men!” he yelled.
Blake and Joe looked back as they got to the path that led along the cliff, below which was the rolling ocean. They had a glimpse of the big man racing after them, several others in his wake.
“Stop!” commanded Hemp Danforth. “Hold on, you spies!”
“Don’t answer,” advised Blake. “Save your breath for running, Joe.”
“Um!” grunted his chum.
They were fleet of foot, and had a start. They were also lighter in weight than was their pursuer. In a short time they were well ahead.
“But he’s still coming on!” declared Blake.
“We’ve got to give him the slip,” declared Joe. “Can’t you see some side path we can take?”
“Yes, here’s one,” was the panting answer, and at that moment Blake parted some low bushes and jumped into a sort of cross path, almost concealed from view. “Come on, Joe!”