Entering the house, he left at the rear, then made
a stealthy, roundabout trip that brought him at the farther edge of the
litte grove of trees.
Now the young engineer crouched close to the ground as he listened. Once
more he heard that some one moving, not many yards away. It was
pitch-black in there amid the trees. Guided by his ears, Tom moved closer
and closer without making a betraying sound. Suddenly he found the tall
figure looming up almost in his path.
"Now, I've got you!" cried Tom exultantly, making a bound that should have
carried his hands to the throat of the prowler.
But the other, like a flash, went on the defensive. Tom felt himself
parried, then clutched at. The next instant the prowler had the young
engineer in a tackle that carried Tom Reade back to the good old high
school days at home. The young engineer was dumped on the ground as though
he had been a sack of flour.
"Great Scott!" quivered Tom Reade. "No one but Dick Prescott ever had
that tackle down fine!"
"Well, you blithering idiot!" came the indignant answer. "That's who I
am---Prescott!"
CHAPTER XVIII
THE ARMY "ON THE JOB"
"You, Dick?" gasped Tom, stumbling ruefully to his feet.
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