ered through and through, not only because
of what Porton had done at the stores, but also because of the way the
former moving-picture actor had threatened him.

The encounter had occurred at a spot where the trees were somewhat
scattered and where rocks were numerous. As the two continued their
struggle they sent the loose snow flying in all directions and often
struck on some of the rocks.

At last Dave managed to get his opponent by the throat, and he forced
Porton's head backward against a large stone. In the meantime,
however, the rascal managed to double up one of his legs, and he gave
Dave a shove in the stomach which sent him rolling over on his side.

"Now I'll fix you!" panted Porton, and, releasing his right hand, he
picked up a loose stone which their scuffle had exposed to view. The
next instant he brought the stone up, hitting our hero on the side of
the head. It was a furious blow, and for the moment Dave was stunned.
He let go of the other's throat, and as he did this Ward Porton arose
to his feet.

"Now I guess you'll let me alone!" he snarled; and aimed a vicious
kick at Dave's head. But the youth, even though somewhat bewildered,
had sense enough left to dodge, and the blow landed on his shoulder.

Then Porton turned and dashed wildly along the woods path leading in
the direction of Barnett.

It took our hero several seconds to collect himself sufficiently to
arise. His ear was ringing from the contact with the stone, which
fortunately had been a smooth one, and his shoulder also ached, even
though the kick had been delivered through the padding of his
overcoat.

He gazed along the path, and was just in time to see Porton
disappearing around a bend.

If Dave had been thoroughly angry before, he was now even more so;
and, shaking his head to clear his brain, he started on a run after
the fugitive. He reached the turn in the path to see Porton emerging
from the woods and taking to the highway leading to the railroad
depot.

"He must be running to catch a train," thought our hero. "And if that
is so I'll have to hustle or he'll get away."

By the time Dave gained the highway leading to Barnett, Ward Porton
had reached the vicinity of the first of the houses in the village.
Here he paused to glance back, and, seeing his pursuer, shook his fist
at Dave. Then he went on about fifty yards farther, suddenly turning
into a lane between two of the houses.

"He's afraid to go to the depot for fea