The Pony Rider Boys in the Ozarks | Page 3

to hear those same
footsteps on the opposite side of the camp. Professor Zepplin by much
effort had just come from the other side himself.
"Stupid!" he muttered. "I'll take no roundabout way this time. I'll go
straight ahead and be as quiet about it as I can."
He did so. He moved straight across the camp ground, not forgetting
the saddle which he carefully avoided, but narrowly missing falling
over it a second time.
By the time he had crossed to his former position, the intruder had done
likewise. Professor Zepplin dodged behind a tree.
By this time the scientist was beginning to feel a little worried. He
could not understand what the other fellow's object might be. If it were
robbery, the fellow certainly would desire to get away as quickly as
possible, rather than remain when he knew that efforts were being
made to capture him. If not plunder, what could be his purpose?
With suddenly formed determination, Professor Zepplin strode out
from his hiding place, starting for the other side on a run.
The other man did the same, and the only result of the move was that
their positions were exchanged.
Once more the Professor decided to try strategy and see if he could not
come up behind his opponent.
At the same moment the visitor apparently decided to resort to the same
tactics. They went in opposite directions, however, to carry out their
purpose, and when each arrived at the place it was to find that the other
was opposite him again.
The Professor's bare feet were in a sad state by this time, his pajamas
were torn and his hands were worn tender from using them for feet
when running along on all fours. At the same time his temper was
wearing to a point of dangerous thinness. It was likely to break down

the slender barrier that held it at almost any time.
Suddenly he realized that the intruder had been silent for some minutes,
and the Professor decided that it was time he ceased thinking over his
own troubles and paid more attention to what the other man was doing.
"Now, I wonder what he is up to," growled the scientist. "I believe he
has given me the slip and gotten away. Here I've been dreaming for
minutes. I'll slip some myself and see if I can't surprise him if he's there
yet."
Once again he started across the camp ground, without resorting to any
of his former tactics, other than to proceed with extreme caution,
covering the intervening space with long, careful strides.
Reaching the rock, he paused to listen, but could hear nothing.
Gun ready for instant use, Professor Zepplin dashed around the corner
of the rock, running plump into the arms of the fellow whom he had
been so successfully dodging for the past twenty minutes.
So startled was the scientist that he dropped his revolver, throwing both
arms about his antagonist. He was surprised at the slenderness of the
fellow, though he quickly discovered that what the other lacked in bulk
he easily made up for by his lithe, supple body and muscular arms.
Almost before Professor Zepplin had collected his wits sufficiently to
make any sort of defense he found himself lying flat on his back, with
his opponent sitting on top of him, both wrists pinioned to the ground
in an iron grip.
There seemed to the Professor something strangely familiar about the
figure that was holding him down so firmly, but he did not try to
analyze the impression. He had other things to think of at that moment.
"I'll wait a second until he lets up ever so little, then, with my superior
weight, I ought to be able to throw him--"

"I've got you this time. What do you mean by prowling about our camp
at this time of the--"
"Wha--what--who--who--" exclaimed the Professor.
"What!" fairly shouted the other. "Who--who are you?"
"I'm Professor Zepplin. Who are you?"
"Oh, shucks! I'm Tad Butler," answered the boy, hastily releasing his
prisoner, and, more crestfallen than he would have cared to admit,
assisting the Professor to his feet.
"What do you mean, you young rascal?" demanded the Professor,
grasping the boy by the shoulders and shaking him vigorously. "I say,
what do you mean by playing such pranks on me as this? Why, I might
have shot you. I--"
"You are wrong, Professor; I have not intentionally played pranks on
you--"
"Yes you have--yes you have," fumed the Professor.
"I might accuse you of doing the same thing to me, only I know you
didn't get up in the middle of the night to play hide and seek with a
boy--"
"Then what does this mean? Answer me instantly!"
"I can do so easily. The fact