m hugged the
other in his arms. He suspected on the spur of the moment that this
might be the other spy, trying to elude Harry, and cutting across his
track by the merest chance.

The fellow struggled furiously, but Tom managed to get a good hold on
him, and kept it tenaciously. As the other was also clutching him his
further pursuit of the fleeing spy seemed doomed to failure; and so Tom
felt that the only thing left was to make sure of this party.

"Hey, Tom, let go! You're choking me!" came a voice that electrified
him, and caused him to release his clutch.

After all it was Harry upon whom he had fallen, Harry who having lost
all track of his man was rushing wildly this way and that in hope of
once again getting in touch with the fellow.

"Quick, before it's too late, join me!" shrilled Tom, scrambling to his
feet again as best he could, and feeling angry because of this
ridiculous accident. "There he goes, Harry! After him again!"

So they both started once more to run at top speed. The agile spy had
been able to put considerable distance between them while his pursuers
struggled on the ground, and seemed likely to escape. But there was one
thing that stood in his way.

Men were running this way and that in every direction, calling to one
another, and trying to understand what all the row was about. A squad of
oncoming hostlers blocked his passage. They evidently were beginning to
get light on the situation, for discovering the panting runner they now
set up a concerted shout.

This compelled the hunted Boche to turn again on his heel, and so he
lost a portion of his previous gain. Tom took fresh heart on seeing
this. Given one or two such lifts as this, and he believed he would
again come to hand grips with the fellow. And with Harry close at his
heels he fancied the next encounter would surely terminate badly for the
Hun spy.

"Spread out some, Harry!" he managed to shout.

His object in saying this was to make it more difficult for the Boche to
hold his own when necessity compelled him to veer to one side. They
dodged the hangars that barred the way, running in and out of the lines
with the swiftness of a hare followed by the eager hounds.

Once a waiting figure tried to bar the path of the spy, only to be
promptly bowled over. Desperation nerved the arm that struck that blow.
The German knew that his chances were almost at the zero mark, and for
the time being he was like a wolf at bay, ready to sna