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Again tears of helpless rage formed in Hi's eyes. Amos Garwood stood looking on, unseeing. But Dick Prescott's thoughts were flying like lightning. He knew that, somehow, Garwood ought to be seized and held until the friends searching for him could be notified. "You fellows seem to think that everything is done when you get your own old duds back," complained Hi Martin angrily.
Running ahead, the tall man threw open the door of the lawyer's office. "Mr. Ripley," he called, "here are some boys who think they have seen Amos Garwood. Probably these youngsters are half dreaming, yet they may have some information of value." "I know these boys," nodded the lawyer, looking up, "and they are dependable. They are good, bright boys.
The flash in the man's eyes made both boys feel "creepy." Thin as he was, there was about him, none the less, a suggestion of great strength and force when put in action. "We have a right to stay in the woods, Mr. Garwood," Dick answered.
"Is that all?" asked Kenneth, rising. "Hold on! Don't get waxy! Wait till I explain. I'll give you twenty-five dollars, Garwood. You can do a whole lot with twenty-five dollars. And that's a mighty generous offer. All you've got to do is to play off for a couple of days. Tomorrow you could be kind of sick and not able to play.
"He is forty-seven years of age, about five feet eight in height, slightly stooped, very pallid and with cheeks slightly sunken. When last seen Amos Garwood was rather poorly dressed. He has just escaped from a sanitarium, and the only person who has seen him since reports that he looked 'hunted' and anxious, and that his cheeks were considerably sunken.
"You shut up, Hi Martin!" raged Tom Reade, making a dash at Hi's leafy screen. But the harm was done. Amos Garwood changed color swiftly. "Ha, ha! Ho, ho!" he laughed harshly. "I begin to understand now. But no one shall seize me. I won't let any one take me." He started madly through the bushes, not seeking a path.
"Crazy as a porous plaster!" muttered Tom Reade under his breath. "It will be a new, a strange sensation," continued Garwood, speaking just loud enough to be heard by the onlookers. "A great sensation, too, to be master of the world when, during these present dark days, I am compelled to run and hide for fear envious scientists will succeed in capturing me and locking me up."
"It's not a bit worse than what one of them did to me this morning," Ted asserted, strongly on the defensive now. "And I don't know what business it is of yours, mister. Who are you, anyway?" "My name," replied the other quietly, "is Amos Garwood." "Amos Gar -wood?" Ted repeated. At first the name conveyed no information to him.
"I'm afraid we won't catch up with him again to-day," sighed Dick. "The folks who are trying to catch Amos Garwood are foolish in sending detectives to look for him," muttered Dave. "They ought to hire professional sprinters." Away at their rear sounded a fainter whoop. "Answer the fellows, Dave," urged Prescott. "I will -when I get some wind," muttered Darrin.
"I don't believe we'll ever chase that streak of light again," growled Dave. "I don't feel as though I'd ever be able to run again. Amos Garwood can walk faster than any of us can run." "The most that we can do at present," Prescott concluded, will be to notify Lawyer Ripley or Chief Coy that we've seen the Garwood flyer again." "I wish we could catch him," sighed Torn, while Greg nodded.
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