missed his grip, but he was not going to give up. He scarcely
slackened his speed, but, with the momentum he had acquired in racing
down the hill, he, too, leaped across the brook. As he landed on the
other side he made another grab for the figure, a man, as Tom could now
see, but he could make out no features, as the person's hat was pulled
down over his face.

"I've got you now!" cried Tom exultantly, reaching out his hand. His
fingers clutched something, but the next instant the young inventor
went sprawling. The other had put out his foot, and tripped him neatly
and, Tom throwing out his hands to save himself in the fall that was
inevitable, went splashing into the brook at full length. The unknown,
pausing a moment to view what he had done, turned quickly and raced off
in the darkness.

CHAPTER XI

CROSSED WIRES

More surprised than hurt, and with a feeling of chagrin and anger at
the trick which had been played on him, Tom managed to scramble out of
the brook. The water was not deep, but he had splashed in with such
force that he was wet all over. And, as he got up, the water dripping
from his clothes, the lad was conscious of a pain in his head. He put
up his hand, and found that contact with a stone had raised a large
lump on his forehead. It was as big as a hen's egg.

"Humph! I'll be a pretty sight to-morrow," murmured Tom. "I wonder who
that fellow was, anyhow, and what he wanted? He tripped me neatly
enough, whoever he was. I've a good notion to keep on after him."

Then, as he realized what a start the fleeing one had, the young
inventor knew that it would be fruitless to renew the chase. Slowly he
ascended the sloping bank, and started for home. As he did so he
realized that he had, clasped in his fingers, something he had grabbed
from the person he was pursuing just before his unlucky tumble.

"It's part of his watch chain!" exclaimed Tom, as he felt of the
article. "I must have ripped it loose when I fell. Wonder what it is?
Evidently some sort of a charm. Maybe it will be a clue." He tried to
discern of what style it was, but in the dark woods this was
impossible. Then the lad tried to strike a match, but those in his
pocket had become wet from his unexpected bath. "I'll have to wait
until I get home," he went on, and he hastened his steps, for he was
anxious to see what he had torn loose from the person who appeared to
be spying on him.

"Why Tom, what's the matter?" exclaimed Mrs