Immediately there dashed between the trees a panting boy in a uniform identically like Benson's.
"That you, Hal?" shouted the real Jack.
"Yes," came a hoarse answer.
"What's wrong?"
"Run to Farnum—quick!"
"You're a liar, whoever you are!" retorted Jack, putting himself in motion after the fugitive. "You're not Hal Hastings—nor yet Eph Somers!"
The race was a spirited one. The fugitive ran splendidly, gamely, but Jack Benson's wind had had a long rest, and now he was in the pink of condition for sprinting.
So, ere three hundred feet had been covered, the young submarine boy made a flying leap that carried him onto the shoulders of the fugitive down went both to earth.
"Now, hold quiet, will you, or shall I have to pummel your face out of any human likeness?" demanded Jack.
"Oh, Jack! Jack Benson! That you?" shouted the wondering voice of
Jacob Farnum.