Down the hill he raced, his hair fairly standing on end with fright, and the Uri boy after him.

Neither looked back to see whether they were pursued, but they thought they heard footsteps behind them.

On they ran--on, on; at last they separated; one this way, the other that; and then both disappeared.

They had not been followed.
Oscar reached Rosemount all out of breath.

He rushed up the steps, ran to his bed-room, took out his portfolio, threw himself on a seat before the table, and wrote the following, sobbing more and more as he went on:-- DEAR AUNTY,--I want your help.