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The stranger must have remembered Jimmie； for he laughed and
exclaimed：
〃Ah； my friend with the dinner…pail！ It's luck you haven't got it
now； or I'd hold you up。 I'm starving！〃
Jimmie smiled in sympathy。 〃It's early to be hungry；〃 said
Jimmie； 〃when did you have your breakfast？〃
〃I didn't；〃 laughed the young man。 〃I went out to walk up an
appetite； and I lost myself。 But； I haven't lost my appetite。
Which is the shortest way back to Bedford？〃
〃The first road to your right；〃 said Jimmie。
〃Is it far？〃 asked the stranger anxiously。 That he was very
hungry was evident。
〃It's a half…hour's walk；〃 said Jimmie
〃If I live that long；〃 corrected the young man； and stepped out
briskly。
Jimmie knew that within a hundred yards a turn in the road would
shut him from sight。 So； he gave the stranger time to walk that
distance； and； then； diving into the wood that lined the road；
〃stalked〃 him。 From behind a tree he saw the stranger turn and
look back； and seeing no one in the road behind him； also leave
it and plunge into the woods。
He had not turned toward Bedford； he had turned to the left。 Like
a runner stealing bases； Jimmie slipped from tree to tree。 Ahead
of him he heard the stranger trampling upon dead twigs； moving
rapidly as one who knew his way。 At times through the branches
Jimmie could see the broad shoulders of the stranger； and again
could follow his progress only by the noise of the crackling
twigs。 When the noises ceased； Jimmie guessed the stranger had
reached the wood road； grass…grown and moss…covered； that led to
Middle Patent。 So； he ran at right angles until he also reached
it； and as now he was close to where it entered the main road； he
approached warily。 But； he was too late。 There was a sound like
the whir of a rising partridge； and ahead of him from where it
had been hidden； a gray touring…car leaped into the highway。 The
stranger was at the wheel。 Throwing behind it a cloud of dust；
the car raced toward Greenwich。 Jimmie had time to note only that
it bore a Connecticut State license； that in the wheel…ruts the
tires printed little V's； like arrow…heads。
For a week Jimmie saw nothing of the spy； but for many hot and
dusty miles he stalked arrow…heads。 They lured him north； they
lured him south； they were stamped in soft asphalt； in mud； dust；
and fresh…spread tarvia。 Wherever Jimmie walked； arrow…heads ran
before。 In his sleep as in his copy…book； he saw endless chains
of V's。 But not once could he catch up with the wheels that
printed them。 A week later； just at sunset as he passed below
Round Hill； he saw the stranger on top of it。 On the skyline； in
silhouette against the sinking sun； he was as conspicuous as a
flagstaff。 But to approach him was impossible。 For acres Round
Hill offered no other cover than stubble。 It was as bald as a
skull。 Until the stranger chose to descend； Jimmie must wait。 And
the stranger was in no haste。 The sun sank and from the west
Jimmie saw him turn his face east toward the Sound。 A storm was
gathering； drops of rain began to splash and as the sky grew
black the figure on the hilltop faded into the darkness。 And
then； at the very spot where Jimmie had last seen it； there
suddenly flared two tiny flashes of fire。 Jimmie leaped from
cover。 It was no longer to be endured。 The spy was signalling。
The time for caution had passed； now was the time to act。 Jimmie
raced to the top of the hill； and found it empty。 He plunged down
it； vaulted a stone wall； forced his way through a tangle of
saplings； and held his breath to listen。 Just beyond him； over a
jumble of rocks； a hidden stream was tripping and tumbling。
Joyfully； it laughed and gurgled。 Jimmie turned hot。 It sounded
as though from the darkness the spy mocked him。 Jimmie shook his
fist at the enshrouding darkness。 Above the tumult of the coming
storm and the tossing tree…tops； he raised his voice。
〃You wait！〃 he shouted。 〃I'll get you yet！ Next time； I'll bring
a gun。〃
Next time； was the next morning。 There had been a hawk hovering
over the chicken yard； and Jimmie used that fact to explain his
borrowing the family shotgun。 He loaded it with buckshot； and； in
the pocket of his shirt buttoned his license to 〃hunt； pursue and
kill； to take with traps or other devices。〃
He remembered that Judge Van Vorst had warned him； before he
arrested more spies； to come to him for a warrant。 But with an
impatient shake of the head Jimmie tossed the recollection from
him。 After what he had seen he could not possibly be again
mistaken。 He did not need a warrant。 What he had seen was his
warrantplus the shotgun。
As a 〃pathfinder〃 should； he planned to take up the trail where
he had lost it； but； before he reached Round Hill； he found a
warmer trail。 Before him； stamped clearly in the road still damp
from the rain of the night before； two lines of little
arrow…heads pointed the way。 They were so fresh that at each
twist in the road； lest the car should be just beyond him； Jimmie
slackened his steps。 After half a mile the scent grew hot。 The
tracks were deeper； the arrow…heads more clearly cut； and Jimmie
broke into a run。 Then； the arrow…heads swung suddenly to the
right； and in a clearing at the edge of a wood； were lost。 But
the tires had pressed deep into the grass； and just inside the
wood； he found the car。 It was empty。 Jimmie was drawn two ways。
Should he seek the spy on the nearest hilltop； or； until the
owner returned； wait by the car。 Between lying in ambush and
action； Jimmie preferred action。 But； he did not climb the hill
nearest the car； he climbed the hill that overlooked that hill。
Flat on the ground； hidden in the golden…rod he lay motionless。
Before him； for fifteen miles stretched hills and tiny valleys。
Six miles away to his right rose the stone steeple； and the red
roofs of Greenwich。 Directly before him were no signs of
habitation； only green forests； green fields； gray stone walls；
and； where a road ran up…hill； a splash of white； that quivered
in the heat。 The storm of the night before had washed the air。
Each leaf stood by itself。 Nothing stirred； and in the glare of
the August sun every detail of the landscape was as distinct as
those in a colored photograph； and as still。
In his excitement the scout was trembling。
〃If he moves；〃 he sighed happily； 〃I've got him！〃
Opposite； across a little valley was the hill at the base of
which he had found the car。 The slope toward him was bare； but
the top was crowned with a thick wood； and along its crest； as
though establishing an ancient boundary； ran a stone wall；
moss…covered and wrapped in poison…ivy。 In places； the branches
of the trees； reaching out to the sun； overhung the wall and hid
it in black shadows。 Jimmie divided the hill into sectors。 He
began at the right； and slowly followed the wall。 With his eyes
he took it apart； stone by stone。 Had a chipmunk raised his head；
Jimmie would have seen him。 So； when from the stone wall； like
the reflection of the sun upon a window…pane； something flashed；
Jimmie knew he had found his spy。 A pair of binoculars had
betrayed him。 Jimmie now saw him clearly。 He sat on the ground at
the top of the hill opposite； in the deep shadow of an oak； his
back against the stone wall。 With the binoculars to his eyes he
had leaned too far forward； and upon the glass the sun had
flashed a warning。
Jimmie appreciated that his attack must be made from the rear。
Backward； like a crab he wriggled free of the golden…rod； and
hidden by the contour of the hill； raced down it and into the
woods on the hill opposite。 When he came to within twenty feet of
the oak beneath which he had seen the stranger； he stood erect；
and as though avoiding a live wire； stepped on tip…toe to the
wall。 The stranger still sat against it。 The binoculars hung from
a cord around his neck。 Across his knees was spread a map。 He was
marking it with a pencil； and as he worked； he hummed a tune。
Jimmie knelt； and resting the gun on the top of the wall； covered
him。
〃Throw up your hands！〃 he commanded。
The stranger did not start。 Except that he raised his eyes he
gave no sign that he had heard。 His eyes stared across the l