Both boys were fleet of foot, but in the first fifty yards of the race the man gained on them. It was plain to see that unless something happened they would soon be outdistanced. Bob realized that the time had come when chances were to be taken. He raised his father's hickory cane above his head, whirled it around a couple of times, and sent it spinning in the direction of the fleeing figure ahead. The one chance in a hundred was successful. Bob's aim was true and the heavy stick flew straight to its mark. As the man ran, one end of it protruded itself between his legs; he was tripped up and, losing his balance, fell sprawling to the ground. Almost instantly he was on his feet again, but the delay occasioned by his fall had been almost sufficient to enable the boys to catch up with him. They were barely two steps behind him now. "Tackle him!" shouted Bob. Like two ends going down the field to get the quarterback who is receiving the punt Bob and Hugh leaped forward at the same time. They had both had experience in football and it stood them in good stead now. The man went down, both boys literally swarming all over him. "I've got his legs, Hugh," cried Bob. "Grab his arms." The man kicked and struggled with all the strength that was in him. Bob hung on for dear life, however. He held one of the man's feet in each hand and threw his body across his legs to hold them down. Hugh scrambled forward and hurled his entire weight across the man's chest. Their prisoner's fists were going like flails, but Hugh persisted. The thought of this German plotting against the United States was more than he could endure and he dealt the man a stunning blow squarely in the face. A moment later the man's arms and legs were tightly pinned to the ground while the two boys sat astride him, complete masters of the situation. "I'd like to pound his head off," cried Bob fiercely. "Just look at that fire." The bomb had done its work, and already the flames were mounting higher and higher over the damaged portion of the factory. The fire whistles were blowing violently; some one had turned in the alarm promptly anyway. "What shall we do with him?" panted Hugh. "You didn't knock him out when you hit him, did you?" "No. He's all right." "Let's get him on his feet and take him up to the office then." "Hang on tight." "Don't worry about that. If he tries to get away we'll choke his head off." Whether or not the man understood these remarks he offered no comment. Hugh held him by one arm and Bob by the other. They yanked him to his feet and marched him off in the direction of the factory office. Strange to say their prisoner offered but little resistance; he dragged his feet somewhat but followed along sullenly.