Out of the room and down the dimly lighted hall dashed the Indian student. Before him fled the thief.
"Stop!" yelled John.
"What's the matter?" cried Jack, sitting up in bed and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Is the place on fire?"
"What's the matter? Have we missed the train?" Nat demanded to know.
"Thieves!" was all John replied.
By this time several guests of the hotel had awakened and there were anxious inquiries as to what was going on. The thief sped down the long corridor, with John, clad only in his nightdress, after him. The fellow tossed the wallets down, but the flat way in which they fell told John the intruder had taken their most valuable contents from them.
Well for the Indian that he was a fleet runner. Few there were who could have distanced him, and certainly the rascal who was out of training in athletic lines could not. A few more strides, and John grabbed the man by the coat.
"Now I've got you!" the Indian shouted.
A moment later the two went down in a heap, the man's legs having slipped from under him. But, even in the fall, John did not let go his hold. The man kept one hand in his pocket. In the flickering gaslight the Indian saw this, and rightly guessed that there the money was.
Quick as a flash John slipped his hand in and found the man was grasping something tightly.