As we gained the field we saw the one-armed sailor standing near the lower end.
"There he is!" came from all of us simultaneously.
"And there he goes!" added Oliver, as the rascal began to run again. "Hi, stop there!" he called out.
"Go back, or I'll shoot somebody!" roared the sailor in return, but without slackening his pace.
"We ought to be able to catch him," I put in. "I don't believe he will shoot, even if he has a pistol, which I doubt."
"Don't be too sure," answered Dan. "But come on," and he set the pace, which put me in mind of our foot races at Broxville Academy. Soon I was up to him and by a spurt I passed him.
The one-armed sailor had gained the edge of the big field. But we were less than fifty feet from him, and now we saw him trip on a dead tree branch and roll over and over down a hillside leading to a slimy pool of water. Before he could save himself he went into the pool with a loud splash and disappeared from view.
The whole scene was so comical I burst into a loud laughter, and my two friends joined in. By the time we had gained the edge of the pool the one-armed sailor had reappeared, dripping with stagnant and foul-smelling liquid, and with
