It isn’t just a case, Joe thought as he charged across the grass, it’s personal! I might not think all that much of the Bayport CC football team, but it’s all I had! And if this guy knows something about the arson – why else would he run, after all – if he knows something, then I’m going to find out what it is!

I wish I’d gone to a big school with a real football team! Joe’s tumultuous thoughts kept time with his pounding feet. But even as that thought crossed his mind, it was dismissed. No, no, I’d never have been able to do that, not break up the partnership Frank and I have, just to play football somewhere! And I couldn’t move away from Vanessa! Nope, no way! Well, two years, and then maybe I can transfer to a four-year university, and Vanessa can too…. He didn’t pursue the thought further; who knew what Frank’s plans might be, two years from now?

In the distance, Joe could see his quarry – dark hair and khaki shorts and a blue t-shirt on a slim body – and this guy was fast! Joe was doing his best, and he wasn’t falling any further behind, but he wasn’t catching up, either! Joe took a deep breath and poured on a little more speed, as he saw the man dart across the street, and then head into the parking lot, cutting across with a distance-eating effortless stride.

Joe swerved after him. He didn’t have time to glance back and see where Frank might be. He knew it was highly unlikely that Frank would be able to keep up, anyway. To run well, you needed both arms, for balance and momentum. Frank couldn’t use his left arm; that would throw his stride off. And besides, Joe thought, it still hurts him! Trying to run would jar it like crazy!

Joe was starting to feel winded himself, now, and he could sense a headache starting to develop. Darned concussion! I’m supposed to be all over it….Whoever this kid is, he’s part gazelle! Joe gulped in another solid breath, and tried to lengthen his stride a little. Whoever he is, he’s – mine! There is no way I’m giving up…but damn, he’s fast!

For a moment or two, Joe was aware only of the sounds and sensations of running – the soft pounding of sneaker-clad feet hitting the pavement, the sound of his breathing harsh in his ears, the sibilant rush of blood inside his head, the feeling of his arms pumping strongly as he continued the chase. Ahead of him, he could see the slowly-enlarging figure of the man he was pursuing. He was faster than Joe, but evidently lacked the younger Hardy’s stamina.

Joe now realized where his quarry was heading – the gymnasium! The guy ducked around the corner at the front of the big building. Joe followed, racing around it just in time to hear the solid THUNK! of a door slamming…one of the big main doors into the gym. A predatory grin curved Joe’s lips: he knew he had him now! Everywhere in there – even the hallways on the other side – echo! Anywhere he goes, I can find him! It should be totally quiet in there on a Sunday morning, except for him!

Joe yanked open the outer door, hurled himself inside, then went through the next door, and stopped, letting it close gently behind him. Then he stood still and listened intently. That’s funny…it’s quiet. Why can’t I hear him anywhere? I should at least be able to hear breathing, even if he stopped moving around…. But all he could hear was the sound of his own panting breaths.

A sudden idea struck, and Joe abruptly turned right and opened another heavy door – and stepped into the Natatorium, the large, lush swimming pool area. As Joe entered, he heard running footsteps slap the concrete, and spied a moving figure sprinting along the edge of the big pool, heading towards the deep end – and the exit doors at that end of the enclosure.

"Hey!" Joe barked, and the single syllable bounced off the walls. "Hold it right there!" The guy turned his head, and Joe caught sight of his features for the first time. He inhaled sharply. I know that guy! "Dave! Dave Wahlstrom! It’s Joe Hardy! Hold on!"

Unfortunately, the young man disregarded Joe’s hail. He kept moving, and when he turned to look back at Joe, his feet carried him perilously close to the edge of the pool. Before Joe could shout a warning, the young man hit a puddle, skidded, and with a panicked yell, abruptly tumbled into the clear water of the swimming pool!

"Whoa!" Joe leaped forward, attempting to avoid the slick spots. He watched the other man surface and begin to ineffectually struggle towards the side of the pool. "Can you make it out okay?" he called, starting to feel slightly worried. They’d run a fair distance, after all, and he was feeling tired; he suspected the boy floundering in the pool was exhausted too! He moved to the pool’s edge. "Dave?"

The guy in the pool paddled towards the ladder attached to the side of the pool, but his strokes were slow and awkward. Running might be Dave Wahlstrom’s forte, swimming evidently was not! Before he reached his goal, Dave began to struggle, then he suddenly gasped and slipped beneath the water’s surface.

Joe didn’t even hesitate; his dive carried him halfway across the pool, and he had to take only a stroke or two to reach the other boy. He pulled Wahlstrom to the surface, towed him to the side of the pool and shoved him up onto the painted concrete decking, then hauled himself out and sprawled next to him.

"Th-thanks!" Dave coughed a couple of times, and sat up. "I – I didn’t intend – to do that!" He coughed again, and heaved a tired sigh.

Joe sat up too, and began squeezing water from his clothes. "No, I’m sure you didn’t," he said sardonically. He surveyed the other boy, trying to remember what he knew about him. Dave Wahlstrom – in my graduating class, but I didn’t have many classes with him. He was on the track team with me, though – sprinter. Ran the 100-meter, and the 200. He was super-fast…he won almost every meet, senior year. Medals and ribbons and trophies galore – took first at the state meet in the 100. But he couldn’t run anything past the 200-meter….That’s why I managed to catch up with him. Joe suspected that his workouts with the football team had aided him, too. Dave probably wasn’t in quite as good shape as Joe was – he likely hadn’t done any serious running since the end of the high school track season.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, catching their breaths and wringing out their garments. Joe took some deep breaths, inhaled too much chlorine-laden air, and coughed harshly. Nasty stuff! He decided to breathe more shallowly until they left. He certainly wasn’t leaving until Dave did, chlorine or no chlorine! Joe wanted answers, and he was going to get them!

"Okay, what was the idea of running, when you saw us?" Joe demanded at last, his gaze boring into Wahlstrom. "What were you doing, anyway? And why did you run?"

Dave Wahlstrom shrugged noncommittally, and shook the sparkling drops of water from his dark hair. He shoved it back, and ran his hand over his face, stripping the water droplets off. He kept his blue eyes downcast, not meeting Joe’s.

He’s stalling…. "Come on, Dave, what gives?" Joe repeated, just as the door opened once more, and Frank walked into the pool area. Joe sighed silently in relief at seeing his brother. He’d begun to worry about his whereabouts. The relief was short-lived, however; Joe noticed that Frank was slightly out of breath – and he was grimacing, and holding his left arm, obviously in pain. Uh-oh!

Frank looked around, catching sight of the two occupants of the room, and taking in their sopping-wet condition with some surprise. He managed to keep a fairly straight face, but a sound suspiciously like a derisive snort emanated from him as he approached.

As Frank entered, Dave Wahlstrom struggled to his feet. Joe quickly moved to prevent any escape attempts, but all Dave did was move towards one of the blue-and-white-striped deck chairs, and sit down. Joe followed suit.

"About time you showed up," Joe tried to make his tone casual, but the glance he shot at Frank was filled with worry.

Frank, seeing the concern, managed a wink and a smile of reassurance, and eased himself into a third chair near the other two. The warm, chlorine-filled air swirled mistily around them. "I took the scenic route." He eyed Joe and Dave curiously. "Nobody told me we were having a pool party."

"It was sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing….Frank, you remember Dave Wahlstrom, from high school, don’t you?" Joe offered a semi-introduction, trying to ease the tense situation just a little.

"One of the best sprinters in the state," Frank nodded, and smiled at Wahlstrom, who tentatively returned the smile, then quickly resumed staring at his sodden shoes.

"Dave was just about to tell me why he didn’t want to talk to us," Joe said, in a deceptively mild tone. "Weren’t you, Dave?"

Wahlstrom looked up, a little wild-eyed. "Whatever you think, I didn’t do it! You should know better than to think I did it!"

"Did ‘it?’" Joe leapt on the phrase. "Did what? Did I accuse you of ‘doing’ anything? I asked why you ran. Why you didn’t want to talk to us. And what were you doing out there? Why are you acting so guilty, if you didn’t ‘do’ anything?"

"Joe…." Frank’s quiet voice was a sharp contrast to Joe’s vehemence. "Why don’t you give Dave a chance to talk?"

Joe nodded, slightly ashamed of himself. He turned back to Wahlstrom. "Sorry, Dave, go ahead."

"I ran away because…oh, come on, you know what kind of a reputation you two have! I was in the area of an arson fire, putting up advertisements for a group that some people think is seditious…." Dave stared at the Hardys miserably. "I could tell what you thought. When you yelled, I was…I ran because I didn’t want any trouble."

"Wow, our reputation precedes us," Joe said, his tone laced with sarcasm. "I never realized we were so threatening!"

"You’re not – not exactly threatening, but…but….Anyway, yeah, I’m a member of Students For Earth," Dave began, his voice low. "I joined the first day of school. It’s a really interesting organization – but believe me, the members don’t go around burning down buildings! We’re peaceful! Sometimes we hold rallies, and sometimes we stage protests, sure…and sometimes we pass out leaflets, and petitions, and encourage people to write to their Congressmen. But never anything dangerous – never!" He looked at Joe pleadingly, then shifted his gaze to Frank, who seemed a little less skeptical. "You’ve got to believe me!"

"They why were you tacking fliers near the scene of the fire?" Frank asked, again very quietly.

Joe gave him a quick, worried glance; Frank sounded too quiet, his voice too tightly controlled. He hoped his brother was all right!

Frank was still talking, since Dave hadn’t answered his question. "Don’t you think that it looks incriminating? Especially since you took off like a scared rabbit when we approached you….People might assume the S.F.E. is responsible for the fire, if your fliers are all over the place right afterwards."

"But we’re not!" Wahlstrom protested. "We just wanted the fliers to be seen, that’s all; that’s why I was putting them up there. I know that people will come to see the burned buildings, so I figured it was a good place for the S.F.E. posters to be noticed!" He looked downcast. "I didn’t realize how it would look…." He sighed. "I knew it was a mistake to try to get away from you."

"How do we know you’re telling the truth? Can you prove you weren’t around when the fire was started?" Joe prodded, scowling at him.

Dave Wahlstrom shrugged helplessly. "Thursday night, right? I was out on a date. After that, I was at home, asleep."

Frank nodded, apparently accepting the explanation at face value. Joe wasn’t entirely convinced, but Frank shot him a warning glance.

"Thanks for talking to us, Dave," the elder boy said. "Sorry if we spooked you."

"Yeah….Look, I have to go." Dave got to his feet. "I should finish hanging the rest of the posters, and then I want to go home and get some dry clothes. Thanks for fishing me out of the pool, Joe. See ya around." He pivoted, and hurried towards the door without a backward glance.

"Dave, wait a minute—" Joe stood up too, but his plea fell on deaf ears; Dave was out of the door before he could finish the sentence.

Joe whirled to face his brother. "Do you believe him? It looks darned suspicious to me! Much too convenient a coincidence!" He paused, frowning reflectively. "But Dave Wahlstrom was always a nice guy, in high school. He wasn’t part of the radical crowd at all. Not the sort I’d connect with burning down buildings."

"Well, it is suspicious," Frank admitted, slowly getting to his feet. "We’ll need to find out more about Students For Earth, I think. But I doubt that Dave, personally, did anything, other than volunteer to tack up those fliers. And to be quite honest, I’ve never heard anything bad about the S.F.E. They’re around campus; I’d heard of them last year. They held a big Earth Day rally last spring. They staged a couple of protests, and they’ve been around offering to put people in touch with their Congressional reps. But nothing dangerous, that I know of."

"Maybe they’ve changed M.O.’s," Joe offered gloomily.

"Perhaps." Frank nodded. "That’s why we’re going to check them out, and if we find anything odd, we’ll let Con Riley know about it!"

"That would blow our cover," Joe protested.

Frank gave him an odd look. "What cover? We really are college students – remember? And I didn’t say we were going to infiltrate the group, just find out about it!" He chuckled and shrugged, then winced, his right hand going to gently grip his left arm, above the cast.

"What did you do to it?" Joe asked, stepping closer and reaching to lay a careful hand on Frank’s injured shoulder. "I saw you when you came in; you’re hurting again."

Frank glanced at his brother and grinned a little, moving back a step. "You’re all wet," he observed, "I want to hear about that, by the way!"

"Yeah, yeah, in a minute," Joe replied impatiently. "Quit trying to change the subject. Now tell me, what happened to your arm?"

"Nothing, I just jarred it, trying to run," Frank waved his concern off, striving for nonchalance. "It’ll be fine. I know better; I shouldn’t have tried to do it, that’s all."

Joe wanted to bat him in the head, but he managed to produce a teasing smile, instead. "Old age catching up with you again, huh? Once upon a time, a broken arm wouldn’t have slowed you down so that you couldn’t catch a suspect—"

"Maybe you’d like a broken arm, to find out what it’s like?" Frank moved threateningly towards his younger brother, a dangerous glint in his brown eyes. "Or would you rather have another dip in the pool?" He moved a step closer.

"Have to catch me first!" Joe gibed, and took off out the door as fast as he could go. He heard Frank yell something or other, behind him, but he just kept trotting – and he didn’t stop until he reached his Aztek. He searched the trunk, and found a towel to dry off his still-dripping hair. He was glad that the upholstery was leather, and wouldn’t be damaged by his wet clothing.

Joe slid into the driver’s seat and went back for Frank. He found his brother strolling along the sidewalk, and slowed the car. He lowered the window on the passenger side, letting the Aztek creep along.

"Want a lift?"

"Yeah." Frank waited for Joe to stop, then got in. "Let’s go over by the Admin building. We’ve seen all we can see at the stadium; we can’t get near enough to do any real digging around."

"And you want to call Dani," Joe reminded, following the winding road through the campus.

"And I want to call Dani," Frank nodded. "Now," he continued, looking at Joe’s bedraggled appearance with amusement. "Why don’t you tell me why you and Dave Wahlstrom felt it necessary to go swimming?"

Joe snorted. "I chased him into the pool area, and he kept running, the idiot! He slipped and fell in…and when he tried to swim to the edge, he had some trouble. I went in after him, that’s all."

Frank whistled softly. "Well, good for you!" he commended. Joe blushed slightly, and gave him an embarrassed smile.

Their wish to ‘dig around’ the rubble left from the torched Administration Building was left unfulfilled; the clean-up crews had virtually eliminated any chance for clues by this point. The area was deserted; even the curious no longer were stopping by. Frank surveyed the scene gloomily from the car window, and then motioned to Joe to drive on.

"There’s no use even parking; there’s nothing left to look at," the elder Hardy commented. "We might as well go on home so you can stop imitating a drowned rat."

Joe, although he’d been game to continue investigating, wet clothes notwithstanding, nodded grateful agreement. Sitting around feeling squishy and damp wasn’t one of his favorite things to do.