Tom hoped that was the extent of his supply of such ammunition, for he might not be quite so successful in avoiding the bomb another time.
Again was the fleeing spy compelled to whirl aside because of threatening peril ahead. Dodging in and out between the khaki-colored canvas field hangars he sought desperately to throw Tom off his track; but no hound ever followed its quarry with more pertinacity than the Yankee air pilot followed now.
Then something happened. Tom came in collision with a runner, so that the two of them fell headlong to the ground. By instinct Tom 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
