"Good! Keep on going, boss!" whispered a calm voice. "Don't
let 'em catch you again."
"Who are you?" Tom demanded, halting and trying to make out the
man's face in the intense shadow under a ledge of rock.
"Duck!" commanded the same voice. "I'll follow close. I'm alone,
and some of that crew may pluck up heart and follow us. Vamoose!"
"I'll go at your side, but I won't run ahead of you," Tom whispered
back. "I know you, now. Thank you, Leon!"
In the darkness, in lieu of shaking hands Tom gripped one of the
man's elbows in sign of thanks.
"We'd better get out of this," Tom went on, in a barely louder whisper.
"But how did you come to be on hand, Leon?"
"Followed you," was the terse reply.
"From the camp?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Wanted to get even with you."
"You're talking in riddles," Reade protested, in a puzzled tone.
"At the same time I'm greatly obliged to you."
"Thought you'd be," grunted Leon. "That's how I got even."
"What do you mean?" Tom wanted to know.
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