No sooner was their attention drawn from him than the Raven made his leap, swift and silent as a charging panther. He darted upon the stout tramp, whose back was towards him, as its owner bent over the haversacks. Chippy placed both hands against a certain portion of the tramp's person which afforded him an excellent purchase, and gave a tremendous shove. Fiery Nose stumbled forward, caught his feet in the haversacks, grabbed wildly in the air to save himself, found nothing to fill his clutch, and pitched head first over the edge of the bank into the deep, slow brook. Crash! Splash! he went into the pool, and the water leapt like a fountain under his terrific plunge. But the Raven did not stay to observe the success of his manoeuvre. Quick as a trout in a stream he was off at full speed, but he had the haversacks tucked safely in his arms. Round whirled the younger tramp in time to see his comrade hit the water. He swung up his stick for a blow at the nimble gliding Raven, but as he sprang at the scout, Dick thrust his staff between the long legs, tripped him up, and sent him sprawling with his face in the hot, smouldering ashes. Chippy was already racing for the road, and Dick followed at top speed. In a moment the tramp was on his feet, and dashing the wood ashes out of his eyes and hair. Then he caught up the stick which had flown from his hand and pursued the fugitives, a wild medley of execrations pouring from his lips. In the pool Fiery Nose wallowed and blew like a grampus, and howled for help. Dick looked back and saw the long-legged tramp covering the ground at a tremendous pace. He was a big, powerful fellow, and was armed with an ugly club. The scouts were not out of the wood yet. They turned a corner and saw the gateway with no gate close before them. An idea shot into Dick's head. 'Run straight ahead, Chippy,' he called. 'Leg it down the road.' The Raven made no reply. He obeyed orders, feeling sure that his comrade had a reason for what he said.