“Tom, you and Dave pursue a little way and travel like lightning,” ordered young Prescott.  “The rest of you pick up stones!  Fast!  Come along now.”

On reaching the highway the driver was forced to make a little turn in order to cross the bridge, in case he decided to travel in the direction that the boys had been going.  So Dick dashed ahead, hoping to profit by the one chance he saw.

Just as luck would have it, the tramps turned in the right direction.  The horse, galloping fast under the lash, struck his forefeet on the bridge.

Whack! clatter! plug!  Four high school boys, all of them baseball players and proud of their straight throwing, sent a small shower of rocks whizzing through the air.

These struck the bridge planks well ahead of the horse.

“Stop—–­or the next ones will hit you!” shouted young Prescott.

Just by way of suggestion he threw one stone that flew by within a foot of the nearer tramp’s head.  Holmes duplicated the throw.

“Stop that!” yelled one of the tramps, but he brought the horse to a standstill.

“Don’t you throw any more stones!” yelled the tramp, as he saw the four ball players poised ready for more work in that line.

“Then hold the horse where he is until we come and take him,” ordered Dick.

“We won’t, and don’t you throw any more stones,” ordered the tramp.  “Jerry, turn your pistol loose on the young cubs if they throw another stone.  Giddap!”

“That’s a bluff.  You haven’t any pistol,” Dick called to the tramps coolly.  “Just start that horse, and we’ll knock both your heads off with stones.  We know how to throw ’em.”

Splash!  Greg Holmes had taken to the narrow river.  Now he was striking out lustily for the other side.  In case the horse was started Holmes would be there, with a handful of stones with which to bombard the fugitives in passing.

“You fellers quit throwing stones, or you’re going to get hurt!”

But the pause had accomplished the very thing for which Dick had waited.

“Throw another stone,” repeated the tramp, “and you’ll get-----”

“Oh, tell it to the Senate!” broke in Tom Reade, climbing into the wagon and seizing the speaker.  Dave, who had crept up with him, had gripped the other tramp by the collar.

Both tramps were thrown from the seat.  Ere they could recover from their astonishment, Reade and Darrin had leaped down upon their tormentors.

“In with them!” ordered Dick.

Two splashes, occurring almost in the same second, testified to the tackling skill that Reade and Darrin had acquired on the gridiron.

Dick and his friends stood by to rescue the tramps, in case either of them could not swim.

Both could, however, and struck out for the shore, abusing the boys roundly as they swam.

Dave had seized the horse’s bridle, and was now turning the animal about.  Tom walked on the other side of the wagon.