by the farmer. Tom glanced
ahead, and from side to side, to see if the tramp had leaped a fence
and was seeking to get away across some pasture. But he saw nothing,
and was aware of a dim moving spot just ahead of him. It was as if the
spot was a little lighter in darkness than the surrounding night.

"He's in the lane yet, I think," said Tom, to himself, trying to run so
as to bring as little weight as possible on his injured ankle. "At
least I hope he is. And the lane doesn't end yet for some distance."

A moment later he was given evidence that the fellow was still running
straight ahead. There came a muttered exclamation, and the sound of
splashing water. Then there shone a brilliant patch of light for an
instant. The tramp had blundered into some puddle, and had flashed his
electric torch to get his bearings. This Tom saw, and he also saw that
the man had increased the distance between them.

"He's going to get away from me if I can't do a little better sprinting
work," murmured Tom grimly. "If I was making a touchdown I'd have to
do better than this. I'll just pretend that I am out for a touchdown."

Clenching his teeth to keep back exclamations of pain, that, somehow or
other, would force themselves out, as his ankle twinged him, Tom swept
on. He fancied he was gaining a bit, for he could hear the labored
breathing of the man ahead of him.

"Wind's giving out!" thought Tom, and he was glad that he was well
trained. Undoubtedly the life of dissipation the tramp had led would
tell on him. He could not keep up the race long. And yet the lane
must soon end.

"I've got to get him! I've got to get him!" said Tom to himself, over
and over again, and he lowered his head and raced on in the storm and
darkness.

He came to the same puddle where the tramp had flashed his light, and
the muddy water splashed high. It was slippery, too, and, in an
endeavor to maintain his balance, Tom further wrenched his ankle.

"I'll be laid up for fair!" he groaned. "No more football for me this
season. Well, I can't help it. This is more important. Oh, if I can
only land him in jail where he belongs!"

Recovering himself, he dashed on. He could still hear the lumbering
footsteps of the tramp. And then suddenly, out of the blackness ahead
of Tom there came a strange sound. It was like a grunt. Then the echo
of voices.

"Look out where you're going!" someone exclaimed.

"Get out of my way!" snarled anoth