“We’ll know in a few minutes.  I wonder where Larry —­ Gracious, listen!”

Sam broke off short, as a loud cry for help reached their ears.  It came from the footpath, at a point where it ran through a grove of beech trees.

“It’s Dick’s voice!  He wants help!” burst from Tom’s lips.  “Come on!” and he set off as rapidly as his exhausted condition would permit.  As before, Sam readily outdistanced him, and soon came upon the scene of a most brutal encounter.

A burly tramp, all of six feet in height, had attacked Dick Rover and thrown him upon his back.  The tramp was now kneeling upon the prostrate boy’s chest, at the same time trying to wrench a watch from Dick’s vest pocket.

“Keep still there, or I’ll knock you on the bead!” cried the tramp, as, letting go of the watch chain, he clapped a dirty hand over Dick’s mouth.

“I —­ won’t —­ kee —­ keep still!” spluttered Dick.  “Let —­ me —­ up!”

“You will keep still —­ if you know what is best for you.  I have your pocketbook, and now I am bound to have that watch and that ring.”

“No!  Don’t rob me of the watch!  It belonged to my father!” panted Dick, and as the watch came out of the pocket he made a clutch at it.  “Help! help!”

“Will you shut up!” burst out the tramp fiercely, and struck at the youth with his fist.

It was at this juncture that Sam put in an appearance.  A glance told him how matters stood, and without waiting an instant he came up behind the tramp, and, catching him by the shoulders, hurled him backward.

“Sam!  Good for you!” burst out Dick joyfully.  “Don’t let him get away!”

“What do you mean, boy?” demanded the ruffian, as he turned over and leaped to his feet.

“You let my brother alone —­ that’s what I mean,” was the answer.

“Give me my pocketbook and that watch!” went on Dick, for the tramp held both articles, one in each hand.

“Yes, I will —­ not,” was the ready reply, turning, suddenly, the tram started through the grove of trees on a run.

Without waiting, Sam ran after him followed by Tom, who had now arrived.  Dick came behind, too much winded by being thrown on his back to keep up with them.

“He is making for the river!” cried Tom, after running for several minutes without gaining on the thief.  “If he has a boat he’ll get away!

“I don’t think he has a boat, Tom.  He looks like a regular tramp.”

“We’ll soon find out.”

They could not see the ruffian, but they could hear him quite plainly as he crashed through the brush beyond the grove of trees.  Then came a crash and a yell of pain.

“He has stumbled and fallen!” said Sam, and redoubled his speed.  Soon he reached the spot where the tramp had gone down.  He was about to proceed further when a well-known object caught his eye.

“Here is the pocketbook!” he burst out, and picked the article up.  A hasty examination showed that the contents were intact; and the two boys continued the pursuit, with Dick still following.