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AN EXCITING HOUR
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around the corner of the schoolhouse and out of sight. The tramp sprang to his feet with an angry cry.

Bob did not dare to move from the shelter of the shrubbery at once. He thought he heard something drop around on the other side of the schoolhouse. As the tramp ran around its end, Bob hurried forward and peered towards the road.

"Why," said Bob, in great surprise, "what has become of the satchels?"

He could see the man in the lead about two hundred yards away, as he jumped into a ditch and was gone from sight. The tramp was putting after him as fast as he could. One thing was sure: neither of them had the satchels.

"Where could they have gone to?" Bob asked himself.

He ran to the road. The tramp was standing in the middle of it, at a loss where to go. The other man was nowhere to be seen. Finally the tramp ran into some woods lining the road, on a search for the man who had run away from him.

Frank, who had kept track of Bob in cautious stages, came up to him now.

"Where are they?" he asked.

"Somewhere in the woods," answered Bob. "They have had a quarrel."

"Yes, I noticed it."

"We couldn't do much if we caught up to them. Hark, Frank!"

Down the road beyond the schoolhouse echoed the sound of horses' hoofs and wagon wheels.

"It's some one driving awfully fast," said Frank.

"It must be the marshal! Yes, I think it is," said Bob, peering down the road.

Then he ran to the middle of the highway, and down it,