Dick came behind, too much winded by being thrown on his
back to keep up with them.
"He is making for the river!" cried Tom, after running for several
minutes without gaining on the thief. "If he has a boat he'll get
away!
"I don't think he has a boat, Tom. He looks like a regular
tramp."
"We'll soon find out."
They could not see the ruffian, but they could hear him quite
plainly as he crashed through the brush beyond the grove of trees.
Then came a crash and a yell of pain.
"He has stumbled and fallen!" said Sam, and redoubled his speed.
Soon he reached the spot where the tramp had gone down. He was
about to proceed further when a well-known object caught his eye.
"Here is the pocketbook!" he burst out, and picked the article up.
A hasty examination showed that the contents were intact; and the
two boys continued the pursuit, with Dick still following.
They were now going downhill toward the river, and presently
struck a patch of wet meadow.
"We must be careful here," observed Tom, and just then sank up to
his ankles in water and mud. But the tramp could now be seen
heading directly for the river, and they continued to follow him.
They were still fifty yards from the shore when Sam uttered a cry
of dismay.
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