CHAPTER IV.
DAVE WARNS TIP SCAMMON There wasn't time to jump out of the way of that second flying missile.
By an instinct of self-preservation young Prescott, instead of trying to leap out of the way, just collapsed, going down to his knees.
As he sank the missile struck the top of his cap, carrying it from his head.
"Hi! Stop that, you blamed rascal!" It was Dave Darrin's voice that rang out, as that young man came rushing down the street behind Prescott.
Dick in another second was on his feet, crouching low, and running full tilt into the alleyway.
It was Dick's way---to run at danger, instead of away from it.
At his first bound into the alley, Prescott dimly made out some fellow running at the further end.
There was an outlet of escape down there---two of them, in fact, as the indignant pursuer knew.

So he put on speed, but soon was obliged to halt, finding that his unknown enemy had gotten away.
Here Dick was joined by breathless Dave Darrin, who had followed swiftly.
"You go through there, Dave; I'll take the other way," urged Dick, again starting in pursuit.
The unknown one, however, had taken advantage of those few seconds of delay to get safely beyond chase.

So the chums met, soon, in a side street.
"His line of retreat was good," muttered Dick, rather disgustedly.
"Who was it, anyway ?" Dave indignantly inquired.
"I don't know.

I didn't see." "Do you suppose it could have been Tip Scammon ?" asked Dave, shrewdly.
"Is Tip Scammon back from the penitentiary ?" "Got back this afternoon, and has been showing himself around town this evening," nodded Dave.

"Say, I wonder if he could have been the one who ambushed you ?" "I don't like to throw suspicion on anyone," Dick replied.