was always more or less laying of wagers on these games. Driven away from the racetracks by recent strict State legislation, it seemed that those who made books were seeking all manner of sports, in order to carry on their games of chance.
So Frank consoled himself in the belief that this might be some agent of these gamesters, rather than a Clifford schoolboy intending to take a mean advantage of the rival team.
He was outrunning the fugitive, and it looked as though, if the chase were continued five minutes more, Frank was sure to overtake him.
Then the road leading north toward the river was reached. To Frank's disgust, he saw the other drag a bicycle out of some bushes, and, while he made a swift rush, hoping to yet come upon the fellow before he got away, it was only to see his intended quarry spin off along the road.
Frank followed a short distance, still cherishing a faint hope that something might happen to upset the other, but gradually the figure of the fleeing spy began to vanish, and he had to give it up.
The last he heard from the fellow was a sharp howl of derision. Evidently his sudden coming on the scene had given the coward a great scare, and he was now rejoicing over his narrow escape.
"Too bad that he got away," thought Frank, as he started across a field to take a short-cut that
