"Oh, it's you; is it?" asked Morse, an ugly scowl on his face. "I thought I recognized you." He moved nearer to Tom, who straightened up, and stood leaning on his wheel.
"Yes; it's me," admitted the lad.
"I've been looking for you," went on Morse. "I'm not done with you yet, nor your father, either."
"Aren't you?" asked Tom, trying to speak coolly, though his heart was beating rather faster than usual. Morse had spoken in a threatening manner, and, as the youth looked up and down the street he saw that it was deserted; nor were there any houses near.
"No, I'm not," snapped the man. "You got me and my friends in a lot of trouble, and"
"You didn't get half what you deserved!" burst out Tom, indignant at the thought of what he and his father had suffered at the hands of the gang. "You ought to be in jail now, instead of out; and if I could see a policeman, I'd have you arrested for threatening me! That's against the law!"
"Huh! I s'pose you think you know lots about the law," sneered Morse. "Well, I tell you one thing; if you make any further trouble for me, I'll"
"I'll make all the trouble I can!" cried Tom,
