"He jumped down!" thought Tom. "A big leap, too. Well, I've got to
follow. This is a queer proceeding. First one, then the second, and
now the third of those men seem determined to get something here. I
wonder if this one succeeded? I'll soon find out."

The lad was up on the pile of packing-cases and over the fence in
almost record time. He caught a glimpse of the fugitive running
toward the woods. Then the boy leaped down, jarring himself
considerably, and took after the man.

But though Tom was a good runner he was handicapped by the fact that
the man had a start of him, and also by the fact that the stranger
had had a chance to rest while hiding for the second time in the big
box, while Tom had kept on running. So it is no great cause for
wonder that Mr. Swift's son found himself being distanced.

Once, twice he called on the fleeing one to halt, but the man paid
no attention, and did not even turn around. Then the youth wisely
concluded to save his wind for running. He did his best, but was
chagrined to see the man reach the woods ahead of him.

"I've lost him now," thought Tom. "Well, there's no help for it."

Still he did not give up, but kept on through the patch of trees. On
the farther side was Lake Carlopa, a broad and long sheet of water.

"If he doesn't know the lake's there," thought our hero, "he may
keep straight on. The water will be sure to stop him, and I can
catch him. But what will I do with him after I get him? That's
another question. I guess I've got a right to demand to know what he
was doing around our place, though."

But Tom need not have worried on this score. He could hear the
fugitive ahead of him, and marked his progress by the crackling of
the underbrush.

"I'm almost up to him," exulted the young inventor. Then, at the
same moment, he caught sight of the man running, and a glimpse of
the sparkling water of Lake Carlopa. "I've got him! I've got him!"
Tom almost cried aloud in his excitement. "Unless he takes to the
water and swims for it, I've got him!"

But Tom did not reckon on a very simple matter, and that was the
possibility of the man having a boat at hand. For this is just what
happened. Reaching the lake shore the fugitive with a final spurt
managed to put considerable distance between himself and Tom. Drawn
up on the beach was a little motor-boat. In this, after he had
pushed it from shore, the stranger leaped. It was the work of but a
second to set the engine in moti