There now loomed up in front of Tom another island—a larger one than Barn Door, and he recognized it as the last one in this end of the lake before he could swing into the wider part of the water through which there was a straight course to Shopton. “Once I get past there,” said Tom to himself, “I’m safe. They won’t dare chase me after that.” As he neared the island he noticed that his motor was behaving in a peculiar manner. Every now and then it would miss an explosion. Then it would cough and wheeze a bit, after which it would go on again. “What’s the matter, old girl?” asked Tom, for to him machinery was almost something alive and he talked to it as he would to a human being. “Are you getting tired?” he asked. He looked over the working parts. They seemed to be all right. But again came a miss—then several of them. And finally, with a last cough and wheeze, the motor stopped altogether. “No more gas!” exclaimed Tom. Well he knew that last wheeze when there is nothing more for the carburetor to feed on. He had used up the last drop of gasoline. “Guess I’m done for,” mused Tom. “They must have known there wasn’t enough gas in the tank to carry me far. That’s why they kept on.” He looked back. The pursuers were perhaps five hundred feet astern, and Tom’s boat was so close to the island that he knew, with the headway still on, he could reach the shore. He turned the prow toward the little cove and as soon as he was near enough he leaped over the bow, landing on the rocky shore, and ran up into the fastness of the island, which was covered with scrubby trees and bushes. He looked about for a good place where he might conceal himself. He was sensible enough to know that to try to fight four men was taking on odds that were too heavy. He saw a little recess in the rocks, and squeezed into it. A moment later he heard the voices of the men as they steered their boat up against the one he had deserted. Then he heard them jumping out on the gravelly beach. “We’ve got him now!” one remarked. “He can’t get away,” added another. “Not unless he swims for it—we’ve got both boats!” said a third. “He won’t try swimming—we could easily overtake him in our boat,” declared the fourth scoundrel, and Tom sensed that this was true. “Scatter now, and find him!” one of the men ordered, and the hiding youth could hear them crashing about in the bushes looking for him. It was a foregone conclusion that they would find him sooner or later. Tom had not had time to look for a good hiding place, being under the necessity of taking the first one that offered. So it was no wonder that, a few minutes after he had landed on the island, he heard some one coming nearer and nearer. He tried to force himself farther into the crevice of the rocks, but it was no use. His movements dislodged some small stones which fell with a rattle. “Here he is!” cried a voice. The next moment Tom was looking into the leering face of Kenny, and then along came Schlump.