"But how could he do anything? Wasn't he tied fast to that tree?" asked Cecil, the leader.
"You never know when you've got Tom Swift tied," declared Jack Reynolds. "You think you've got him, and you haven't. He's too slick for us. It's Andy's fault, for proposing to capture him."
"That's right! Blame it all on me," whined the squint-eyed bully. "You was just as anxious as I was to tar and feather him."
"Well, we didn't do it," commented Pete Bailey, dryly. "I s'pose he's loose now, laughin' at us. Gee, but that was an explosion though! It's a wonder some of us weren't killed! I guess I've had enough of this Deep Forest Throng business. No more for mine."
"Aw, don't be afraid," urged Cecil. "The next time we get him we'll be on our guard."
"You'll never catch Tom Swift again," predicted Pete.
"I'll go back now to where he is, if you will," agreed Cecil, who was older than the others.
"Not much!" cried Pete. I've had enough."
This seemed to be the sentiment of all. Away they stumbled through the woods, and, emerging on the road, scattered to their several homes, not one but who suffered from slight burns, contusions, torn and muddy clothes or injured
