n bathing
trunks from running along the highway.

"You'll find the wagon a few miles from here!" jeered the tramp
who held the reins. "We'll leave it when we're through with it.
We-----"

But further words could not be heard for the wagon had vanished
from view at a turn in the road between the trees.

"We're in a bad pickle, now!" gasped Tom Reade.

But Dick, studying the lay of the land with swift glances, saw
just one chance. If the tramps turned the horse in the right
direction on gaining the highway-----

Dick broke off his thoughts there.

"Tom, you and Dave pursue a little way and travel like lightning,"
ordered young Prescott. "The rest of you pick up stones! Fast!
Come along now."

On reaching the highway the driver was forced to make a little
turn in order to cross the bridge, in case he decided to travel
in the direction that the boys had been going. So Dick dashed
ahead, hoping to profit by the one chance he saw.

Just as luck would have it, the tramps turned in the right direction.
The horse, galloping fast under the lash, struck his forefeet
on the bridge.

Whack! clatter! plug! Four high school boys, all of them baseball
players and proud of their straight throwing, sent a small shower
of rocks whizzing through the air.

These struck the bridge planks well ahead of the horse.

"Stop---or the next ones will hit you!" shouted young Prescott.

Just by way of suggestion he threw one stone that flew by within
a foot of the nearer tramp's head. Holmes duplicated the throw.

"Stop that!" yelled one of the tramps, but he brought the horse
to a standstill.

"Don't you throw any more stones!" yelled the tramp, as he saw
the four ball players poised ready for more work in that line.

"Then hold the horse where he is until we come and take him,"
ordered Dick.

"We won't, and don't you throw any more stones," ordered the tramp.
"Jerry, turn your pistol loose on the young cubs if they throw
another stone. Giddap!"

"That's a bluff. You haven't any pistol," Dick called to the
tramps coolly. "Just start that horse, and we'll knock both your
heads off with stones. We know how to throw 'em."

Splash! Greg Holmes had taken to the narrow river. Now he was
striking out lustily for the other side. In case the horse was
started Holmes would be there, with a handful of stones with which
to bombard the fugitives in passing.

"You fellers quit throwing stones, or you're going to get hurt!